“Every time I see a picture of Rory in the paper, he’s got a big puss on him.”
Earlier this week, I got the above text from a buddy. He followed up by asking why has the most talented golfer of his generation become synonymous with failure.
And sadly, after his opening seven-over 78 at Royal Troon, it looks nailed on that major number 38 will come and go, completing 10 full years since he won his third and fourth majors back-to-back and the only question wasn’t if he would complete the Career Grand Slam by adding a Green Jacket to his closet, but when.
We, at IGM towers, are as guilty as any other media outlet for including pictures of McIlroy with agony rather than ecstasy written on his brow – and there’s a fresh one to add to the collection as the featured image on this column – but as I’d explained to my pal, we’ve countless images of him in joyous mode at hand but you can’t include pictures of him laughing and joking when major heartbreak has so often been the theme.
But body language also speaks volumes, and, perhaps with the text exchange fresh in my mind, it screamed through the TV screen when McIlroy’s birdie putt on the fourth hole hung out to the left.
Shoulder slumped, he had all the mannerisms of a scolded child, only stopping short of dragging his feet along the green as he trudged up to roll in the 13-inch par putt.
Yes, it was a par-5 and those are usually Rory’s playground, but the headwind meant it was a three-shotter for the entire field, so even had he found the short grass rather than the rough off the tee, odds are that he’d have been laying up anyway and PGA Tour pros only hole 15 percent of 20-footers.
Yes, given the difficulties that the conditions presented, birdies were going to be hard found and bogeys lurked ominously, but he was coming off the back of a birdie on three, had recovered the shot he’d sloppily dropped on the first and as he’s often declared, the first day of a major championship is about keeping yourself in it rather than trying to streak ahead.
It was rinse and repeat on the sixth – another par-5 – but this time he’d left himself just over 13 feet, and when he again missed left, this time the body language was worse. Hands covering his face, he rolled his head from side-to-side, seemingly incredulous that he’d misread it by a good nine inches of break.
There’s an element of confirmation bias in this, I’ll admit, because had he gone on to shoot level-par or better from here, I wouldn’t be writing this column, but as we all know by now, he covered the next 12 holes in +7, cutting an increasingly forlorn figure with each dropped shot until finally, eyes closed and grimacing, the TV cameras cut away from him after finishing off with a bogey on the last.
Just two days ago, Rory spoke in his press conference of being reminded every day that he’s living his childhood dream, but there were few signs of a man living out his dream on the opening day at Troon. Not that you’d expect his disposition to be all sunshine and lollipops as he fought a losing battle with the wind and the rain, but it was evident early on that the wind and rain were winning.
He’s not mathematically out of it just yet, but it’ll take one of the greatest rounds of his professional career to get him back in it.
Those pointy elbows and the bouncing stride that Paul McGinley loves to reference are going to have to make an appearance.
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