Rory McIlroy lost the Open and found something he’d been missing

PORTRUSH, Northern Ireland — For a moment, all you could hear were the seagulls.

The crowd had gone silent as Rory McIlroy addressed the ball, shuffled his feet and took one last look towards the hole, which was tucked in the back-right quadrant of the par-4 15th. One of the linksland’s most epic views stretched out behind him: Royal Portrush’s front nine. The 7th and its sprawling dunescape. The 5th and its expansive beach. The towering white cliffs. The ruins of the medieval Dunluce Castle beyond them.

In the minutes and hours before, tens of thousands of fans had filled those front-nine hillsides, testing the ropelines as they strained for a look at McIlroy in the arena — their arena — and willed on a comeback. Now the crowd had been compressed to the final four holes; the others were empty save for a squawking flock of seagulls, reclaiming familiar territory. Every Open is epic, but the course outlasts the tournament, and the seagulls outlast both.

McIlroy swung his putter back and through and sent his birdie putt racing towards the hole. Thirteen feet later it fell into the middle of the cup and a roar went up from the grandstand behind the green. McIlroy had no chance to win — any hope for a miracle had been squashed beneath a double bogey at No. 10 — but there was an urgency to their applause. This Open was careening towards an ending, and the opportunities to roar were dwindling.

IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE A COMPLEX WEEK for Rory McIlroy. There is perhaps no golfer more ardently embraced by his home event than McIlroy at an Open in Northern Ireland. This week mattered because McIlroy is from a small town in this small, golf-mad country. It mattered because he is a big deal in a bigger, golf-mad country. It mattered because he has a new green jacket. And it mattered because coming home is always emotional — especially when you’re not home to stay.

“It’s just great to be back. I don’t spend a lot of time in these parts anymore,” he said wistfully in his pre-tournament press conference. In the lead-up to this year’s event, several media outlets visited Holywood, McIlroy’s home club, just an hour down the road. He still has the same coach, Michael Bannon, that he did as a Holywood kid. And he’s given back to the club, donating a state-of-the-art gym as part of a new practice facility. But his last trip ’round the course?

“I haven’t played Holywood in, I’m going to say 15 years, maybe,” he said.

If you read about the tournament or watched McIlroy on TV coverage you were likely reminded at some point about McIlroy’s last tournament at Portrush in 2019, the Open’s first return to the island of Ireland in nearly 70 years. He showed up the sentimental favorite and the betting favorite and under more pressure than he even realized.

“I remember the ovation I got on the first tee on Thursday and not being prepared for it — or not being ready for how I was going to feel,” he said ahead of this week’s event, looking back. That was the first time McIlroy realized what he meant to these fans, to this place. He hooked his opening tee shot out-of-bounds and opened with 79. But it was the second round that stuck with him.

“I remember the run on Friday,” he said. “I remember I was making a charge to make the cut and I hit a 6-iron into the 14th, and I remember the roar from the crowd. It was getting a little dark and it was overcast, and for whatever reason I remember that shot and that roar, and walking up to that green and getting a standing ovation — it was really special.”

McIlroy shot a second-round 65 and missed the cut by a single shot. Post-round he delivered a teary post-round interview, admitting he’d been overwhelmed by the support, even in defeat. It was a striking moment that delivered two things we crave when we watch sports: something unexpected, and something real. And it made this year’s return to Portrush that much more compelling, knowing how much each side wanted it to go better.

It changed things that McIlroy returned this go ’round with a longer resume. As perhaps you heard, he is a Masters champion and a career grand-slam winner. Maybe that lessened the pressure, but it certainly didn’t lessen the spectacle. A coffee shop in town renamed itself to Rory and Bert’s. An ice cream shop made an mural of McIlroy’s face in sprinkles. The event at Royal Portrush sold out almost immediately, to the tune of more than 200,000 tickets, each of whom showed up early, eager to see the sequel.

ON MCILROY’S FINAL FEW HOLES, there were moments that mattered. At No. 16, the course’s signature, devilish par-3, he escaped with a curling par putt that sent the crowded hillside into joyous applause. At No. 17 he executed a masterful short-sided up-and-down from a greenside bunker, and after he’d holed his par putt he waited for one minute, then two, then three, as his caddie Harry Diamond finished a fastidious rake job, so that the two sons of Northern Ireland could walk to the final hole together. And after a tidy chip from long of the 18th green, McIlroy marked his two-footer for par and let playing partner Matthew Fitzpatrick finish out first. He savored the moment and the past-capacity bleachers did, too, and they cheered as he holed that final putt and removed his cap and turned and waved in each direction, lingering a final few seconds before he disappeared into the tunnel. He’d finished T7, seven shots off Scheffler’s winning score. Any other week that would have been disappointing. This week it seemed like far more.

McIlroy has had plenty of teary post-major moments in recent years, but this wasn’t one of them. He took a moment to compose himself en route to scoring; by the time he spoke to reporters he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

He heaped praise on runaway winner Scottie Scheffler, calling his current run one of the most prolific in the game’s history. “And he’s a great person, and I think he’s a wonderful ambassador for our game, as well,” McIlroy added.

He glowed about the host venue, calling Royal Portrush “one of the best two or three venues that The Open goes to.” That echoed widespread sentiment from this week’s players; there’s a sense that St. Andrews’ Old Course is No. 1 by default but Portrush measures up to any other stop on the rota.

And he explained, briefly, what the week had meant to him, trying to express his gratitude in the process. He said he felt a lot of pride “that I’m from these shores.” He said how glad he was the Open had returned. He said he’d remember his reception on No. 18 for a long time.

“It’s been an amazing week, just — I feel so thankful and just so lucky that I get to do this in front of this crowd,” he said. “Hopefully I’ll have one or two Opens left here, if the R&A decide to keep coming back — probably one while I’m still competitive and another one while I’m more gray than I already am.”

That was a humbling admission. We’ve grown so accustomed to McIlroy being a top-five player in the game that the idea of him someday not being competitive is jarring. But there’s power in scarcity; part of what made this Open so meaningful was knowing it wouldn’t soon be back.

In all, the week felt like closure for McIlroy. He arrived at Royal Portrush with unfinished business; he left with a more-than-respectable finish and a catalog of unforgettable moments. Sunday’s final round also marked the conclusion of a major championship season that saw McIlroy’s wildest golf dreams fulfilled but also left him at times frustrated and lost. It was notable, then, that McIlroy acknowledged the he was leaving at peace.

“I’ve gotten everything I wanted out of this week apart from a Claret Jug,” he said.

McIlroy was being whisked away when a reporter lobbed one more question his way. All week, McIlroy said, he’d tried to keep his emotions in check. Was there a moment that the gravity of all of this — the adoration, the pressure, the ovations, the sheer meaning of it all — had landed? Had it hit him, what it means to come home?

He smiled.

“Not yet,” he said. And with that he bounded off the podium and headed for the exits. Scheffler’s coronation was about to begin. McIlroy strode off into the night, finally alone, for the moment. Seagulls cried out overhead.

Dylan Dethier welcomes your comments at dylan_dethier@golf.com.

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