I’ll never understand the McIlroy hate

What’s that old phrase – opinions are like arseholes, some are better than others… Some people believe the world’s flat, that man never stepped foot on the moon, that climate change is a hoax and pineapple shouldn’t go on pizza. Still, like the late Anthony Bourdain, I try to be open to a world where I may not agree with or understand the person sitting next to me, but I’ll have a drink with them anyway. It’s why I engage in debates around Rory McIlroy with fellow golf fans. Why I try to get a sense of what it is they’re seeing that I’m not. Try as I might, I come away from these conversations steadfast in my opinion:

I’ll never understand the McIlroy hate.

Still trying to wrap my head around what happened at Pinehurst a week later, I’ve found myself festering in the sewers of Twitter where sadists salivate over McIlroy’s misery. And while it might seem counterproductive to drag his name up again as he takes a break from the game, I write safe in the knowledge that Rory won’t be scrolling the internet any time soon. At least I hope not. For his sake.

It’s a sad world we live in where sports stars swerve social media for self-preservation but after what I’ve seen, you’d hardly blame them. Don’t worry, I won’t dredge the slimy canal of the shopping trolley full of nasty comments but there was one prized gobshite worth highlighting. A fella who declared Bryson DeChambeau to be everything that’s right with golf today, and McIlroy to be all that’s wrong with it.

Now I know I shouldn’t bite but this lad soured me something shocking. But before I fired back, I took a breath, summoned my inner Mr. Miyagi and tried to put myself in his shoes.

Stepping back, I can see how McIlroy divides opinion. He’s held strong starting positions on everything from the Olympics and Ryder Cup to LIV Golf and Saudi, and on almost every issue he’s relaxed his stance. Some would smear him a hypocrite. Others as someone unafraid to speak his mind while being open to conversations with people who could change it. But to say he’s everything that’s wrong with golf today? If anything, he’s the glue that holds it all together.

See, as sportingly horrific as this latest chapter in McIlroy’s Major saga proved to be, it’s also the ultimate page turner for Troon. This is a story of a career with prodigious beginnings, where a seemingly infallible heir to Tiger’s throne beat all around him before running into his most cantankerous adversary – himself.

I get why LIV supporters claim DeChambeau’s about to move the needle in their favour but try as he might, the Mad Scientist’s magnetic pull will prove no match for McIlroy’s next Major outing as fans tune in to see how he copes with the pressure, should he contend at The Open.

Sure there’ll be those who tune in just to spite him. The same sods who labelled McIlroy classless for ejecting from Pinehurst before the media could feast on his carcass. The kind of classy people who chanted “U.S.A U.S.A” when he missed his 72nd hole putt.

Was McIlroy wrong to bolt before congratulating DeChambeau? Possibly, but when Bryson made the putt, I’ll bet that’s as close as I ever come to seeing a person’s beating heart ripped from their chest. And in that moment you can be sure McIlroy didn’t think about handshakes. Or Bryson. Or pointless Q&As. He considered nothing but ten years of pain. How close he came to ending it. How cruel this game can be that he finds himself back at the starting line of a seemingly endless soul search, asking himself the same old questions that he doesn’t have the answers to.

Even if it was a little petulant. Even if it was a mistake. What some see as a flaw, I see as vulnerability. And both are the genuine human responses of a man who suffered a brutal humiliation he’s not used to. One, like all true champions, he’ll instantly want to forget.

The only way he gets over this one is to finally put the scar tissue to use. Accept that no embarrassment can come greater than his U.S. Open collapse and somehow release himself from his own crippling overthinking.

Can that happen at Troon? Of course it can, but I’m not buying the comparisons with how 21-year old Rory bounced back from a similar crumble at the Masters in 2011 with a first Major victory at the next time of asking. An ocean of water has passed under the bridge since. He’s a different player. A totally different person. But one thing remains true, from 2011 to today – he’s resilient. Buoyant enough to come up for air just when it looks like he’s about to sink. Fearless enough to fail with the whole world watching. Knowing now more than ever that there’s no hiding place in golf. Especially when you’re chasing your greatest triumph yet.