Rory McIlroy's indifference is understandable after achieving his dream

The Guardian

18 hours ago

A snapshot of Rory McIlroy's new normal arrived the day before the US PGA Championship began. McIlroy's practice round at Quail Hollow was watched by more than 50, inside the ropes. Journalists, content creators, wannabe content creators … everyone wanted not just a glimpse – you can get that from the bleachers – but a piece of golf's latest grand slam man. McIlroy played a hole while being interviewed for the tournament's main preview show. All soft, knock-around stuff but inevitably a distraction.
It was difficult to shake the notion that Tiger Woods would never have tolerated such a scenario. It is also thankfully a truism that McIlroy is not Tiger Woods. The Northern Irishman's chatty, warm personality endears him to so many. In a non-tribal sport people root for Rory, none more so than at Augusta National when more that a decade of frustration ended amid euphoric April scenes. Hardened men shed tears in a media centre, no less.
In Pittsburgh, you needn't go far to encounter complaint at the long-term decline of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Even an iconic ballpark cannot pull in the masses any more. A few miles away at Oakmont, golf's chattering classes have a gripe of their own; Rory McIlroy and a refusal to engage as before with the media. It is a preposterous discussion on one level, as if four minutes of quotes after a 75 somehow impacts McIlroy's legacy as much as Masters glory. Yet it is also an intriguing one, if only when assessing why the 36-year-old turned mute. The simple answer is McIlroy is irritated, not unreasonably, after giving the very people now sniping probably the greatest story they will ever report upon. None of them were in New Orleans for McIlroy's first post-Masters appearance, where the five-time major winner was perfectly expansive.
Within two days of McIlroy being pursued by all and sundry at Quail Hollow, news emerged that his driver had failed a routine conformance test. This was a clumsy situation, largely on account of a needlessly secretive process but it was McIlroy's name alone that surfaced. It did via a partner broadcaster, which will have turned heads in Camp McIlroy. Conspiracy theorists ignored the fact he was 175th on the PGA Tour's driver accuracy table heading into the US PGA. There is a reason a seven-iron sits in McIlroy's display cabinet in Augusta's champions locker room.
Headlines subsequently surrounded McIlroy's failure to play the Memorial tournament in Ohio. The event had never appeared on McIlroy's schedule in the first place. Far more significant than McIlroy not advertising his plans is that he deems big events on the PGA Tour worthy of skipping. McIlroy has spoken about scaling down his playing commitments in the US; he will instead appear in India and Australia in 2025. The US-obsessed PGA Tour should be concerned by its biggest draw's dream of a properly global sport.
Sportspeople often speak of regret having not enjoyed their highest highs. With Green Jacket in tow, McIlroy headed to England and Northern Ireland. He did the chatshow circuit in New York. Presumably he found the Europa League final as tedious as the rest of us but he made sure he had a front-row seat in Bilbao.
The resetting of goals, the hitting of more greens, can wait. Few people know what on earth it is like to wake up one morning knowing the only thing that has got you out of bed for the last 10 years is now on your CV. A McIlroy psychological adjustment from this position is as necessary as it may be difficult. McIlroy is cheesed off that he is not playing well – a matter only exaggerated at Oakmont's brutal setup – when there is an abundance of rationale behind that. He is out of competitive sync.
'It's really hard to describe to somebody that hasn't really lived through it,' explained Scottie Scheffler. 'When I woke up after [winning] the PGA Championship this year, I literally felt like I got hit by a bus. I felt terrible. Mentally it is exhausting, physically it is a grind. I can only imagine how Rory felt after winning the career grand slam.'
After his third round at this US Open, he stood before the media when giving the impression he would rather be undergoing root canal treatment. He had skipped post-round duties for the previous six rounds in a row, only one of which was sub-70.
Until the tournament obligates players to talk when requested – which is precisely what they should do – McIlroy can demonstrate his general annoyance in this way. Golf's clickbait modern media world means McIlroy has no scope to speak on an off-the-record basis.
'I feel like I've earned the right to do whatever I want to do,' McIlroy said. His wording here was unusually clumsy, making him look entitled; which he is not. Even when trying to pay lip service, McIlroy cannot stop turning heads. His admission that he didn't care whether he made the Oakmont cut was as brutally honest as it was striking.
McIlroy has been irritated by elements of the media before. Last summer, he changed his phone number after untimely and intrusive messages asking for his thoughts on losing by a shot to Bryson DeChambeau at the US Open. McIlroy has never really explained his famous 'if you want to be in the circus, you have to put up with the clowns' comment of more than a decade ago but it appeared a pointed reference to press speculation. Despite these and other minor rumbles, McIlroy has been great for reporters; a constant source of news and unfailingly helpful towards those with whom he has built up proper relationships.
The sporting public will remember McIlroy's wondrous shot into the 15th at Augusta on Masters Sunday. They will recall a young man beating the turf on the 18th green while in floods of joyous tears. The media has played a part in McIlroy's profile and undoubtedly will do again. It is just that turning indifference from the golfer towards some of that group as a huge deal or grave error at this particular point in time feels needlessly self-aggrandising.