An Investment in Rory

An Investment in Rory

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Watching the NCAA National Championship game in 2002, my alma mater, The University of Maryland, was locked in a tight battle in the second half.  I was at my friend Peter’s house when I walked outside to grab a drink off the porch.  Watching through the window, the Terps took a two-point lead as I opened the bottle.  As any sports fan knows, I was now stuck, and watched the rest of the game through the window as Maryland won the title.  Silly, I know, but it’s the kind of thing sports fans do.  If I had walked inside and the Terps lost, I’d have never forgiven myself.

At this year’s Masters, it seemed everybody had that same feeling about Rory McElroy.  Why was everybody so invested in Rory?  He hadn’t won a Major in over a decade, he had several chances that didn’t come to pass, mostly of his own doing.  He had several personal picadillo’s in the last ten years that made you scrunch up your face and say, “What?”

His loyalty to the PGA Tour in the LIV Split has been lauded, but he’s also been divisive, which seemed unnecessary.  He left the grounds after getting beat at the US Open last year (and beating himself), he announced, for a short time, he was getting divorced, grabbed a phone from a fan he didn’t like taking his picture and has been petulant on more than one occasion.

And still, we were all invested in Rory like never before.

Was it history?  Certainly, his quest for golf’s career Grand Slam is a massive story.  But were we that invested in Greg Norman in the ‘90’s when he was the most dominant player but couldn’t finish?

“Greg’s a jerk,” Don, a golfer and a fan told me in the 19th hole last week.  “Nobody cared if Norman won or lost.  In fact, a lot of people were happy he was getting beat.”

Clearly that’s not the case with Rory.  He’s a likeable guy who we’ve seen grow up in front of our eyes.  He’s been available to us, and he’s revealed himself to us over the years unlike many modern-day sports stars.  We know when he’s happy and we know when he’s not, because he tells us. An unusual trait among most privacy-seeking athletic superstars.  He’s human and reveals that almost weekly.

There’s also the matter of his particular greatness on the golf course.  His swing is envied by all.  Prodigiously long and constantly trying to get better, McElroy seems to always be there.  When he’s on, there’s nobody better.  And when he’s off, he’s usually still in it and providing theater with every shot.

“Almost Arnold Palmer-like,” my friend Rob theorized during our post-Masters debrief.  “You’d be rooting for Arnold, and he’d triple sixteen or three-putt the last hole and you’d be exasperated.  Rory’s the same way.”

Did the golfing public live and die with Arnold every time he played in the PGA trying to complete the Grand Slam?  Actually yes. Did golfers tune in with anticipation when Tom Watson was trying to complete the Grand Slam as he played the PGA?  Not really.  Watson was detached and somewhat aloof, never as available as McElroy.  And nobody has ever been as gracious in defeat in any sport as Palmer and Jack Nicklaus.  Jack’s arm around Watson at Turnberry at “The Duel in the Sun” is legendary.  Any comparisons to them would fall short.

But golf coverage, and information in general was much harder to come by.  In this information age, everything is almost cartoon like, blown way up and often out of proportion, good or bad, then shoved into the past.  So, in the moment, Rory’s victories and defeats seem outsized, for just a moment.  And in more detail, because we see everything in some media, the collective investment with Rory among sports fans rose and fell with every shot.

“I wish he had just said he hit it off the toe and it was an awful shot,” my brother Gust said with a laugh talking about McElroy’s in explicable water-bound third shot at thirteen in the final round. “That whole thing about it being on a slope and he usually pulls it left, nobody bought that.  It was just a terrible shot, and he should have just said that.”

Between the heightened coverage, the historical quest and McElroy’s standing among this century’s sports stars, the focus was on him as he crept up the leaderboard Friday and Saturday.  But perhaps an overlooked part of the intense interest was that fact that it was at The Masters.

For all the talk of the Open Championship crowning the “Champion Golfer of the Year,” The Masters is the most important tournament on the calendar.  The intense scrutiny of the tournament and Augusta National Golf Club and the golf course is unprecedented worldwide.  The Open Championship is beloved as a sporting competition by golfers everywhere, but The Masters is revered by golfers and casual sports fans alike.  The “Green Jacket” as a trophy is recognized by other sports champions as the ultimate symbol of achievement and excellence.

Now that Rory has achieved the ultimate goal in his sport, does he sit back in satisfaction?  Does his game fall off a bit?  Or is he freed up to not play even better and continue winning?  I think the latter is true, but one thing that won’t change is sports fans investment in Rory.  He’ll still be the favorite, even among the “Yeah, but” crowd.  Too relatable, too real and too much like us for that to change.

I liked what golf writer Kyle Porter said of Rory’s emotions after winning at Augusta: “What it must be like when your dream and your nightmare happen to overlap, and you fulfill one while conquering the other at the exact same time.”

Perhaps that’s why we have such an investment in McElroy.  A dream, and a nightmare, that can happen all at the same time.

The Masters

Welcome to The Masters

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It’s almost amusing when you hear people talk about how Augusta has been “romanticized” beyond reality. Clearly, they’ve never been there.

Attending my 45th Masters this week, I’ve been asked several times, “How has it changed?” While a dissertation on the litany of changes would take some time, the short answer is, “Everything isn’t just better, it’s the best.”

And that’s no surprise. When offered different options on how to do things, how to improve the tournament, former Chairman Billy Payne’s attitude was always, “Why not the best?”

Yes, the tournament had a very homey feel, and a very genteel touch for decades. You could focus on how some of that has changed with new buildings, new technology and new characteristics on the grounds. But if you did that, you’d miss the point: It’s the people that haven’t changed.

Unfailingly, you’re greeted with a “Good Morning,” or “Welcome to The Masters” by both the volunteers and professional staff each day when you step on the grounds. The security guards say hi, and open doors for you. Members, in their Green Jackets, are extraordinarily polite and accommodating. There are expectations of decorum and dress that might start with the members and the staff, but it extends all the way to the patrons and it’s just part of being there. Nobody has to tell you. Nobody pushes the boundaries of the expectations. And nobody wants to. People just know how to act.

With no cell phones allowed on the course, there are spontaneous conversations popping up on every hole. It’s not uncommon to have the person standing next to you just turn and say, “How’s your day going?” Or “Did you see him hit that? Wow!” And if you’re wearing a watch, expect to be asked a least a dozen times during the day, “Do you have the time?” It seems everybody is so used to referring to their phone for the time, watches are rare, and thus, unique when you’re on the grounds at Augusta National.

I took my normal walk when I was able to when I arrived. While I was in Augusta Monday afternoon, the weather didn’t allow anyone on the course after 11:25, so Tuesday morning I checked in and headed to meet some family and friends by the scoreboard on the first fairway. Some were attending their first Masters, and it’s always fun to accompany somebody who’s seen Augusta National on television their whole life all of the sudden see the grandeur, the gradient and the splendor of the grounds and golf course in person.

“You could try and tell somebody about it,” my brother Gust explained, “But it wouldn’t come close to what it’s really like.” That’s so true. It’d be like trying to explain a rainbow to somebody who’s never seen one. How do you tell somebody that, no, not a blade of grass is out of place? Or that the grass is mowed in one direction on one side of the fairway, and in the other direction coming back?

Up the hill to the clubhouse, it seemed that the first tee was even further back than it had been. We rounded the corner toward the 10th tee and ran into Fred Couples coming off the 18th green. I’ve known Fred since the early ‘80’s, but he and my brother are actual friends, and it was nice of Freddie to stop and say hi.

Heading down Number ten, you could see how much damage had been done by Hurricane Helene as it swept through the Southeast. Not that any trees were broken or out of place, but it was clear that the forest had been thinned out by the weather. Augusta National took care of the golf course, but was also instrumental in helping the city of Augusta get back on its feet. There are still parts of town that are recovering. A big branch from a magnolia tree was hanging down toward the 10th fairway, precariously hanging on to the tree’s trunk as we walked by. By Wednesday, it had been neatly removed as if it had never been there.

“The scope of everything just plays with your perception,” my friend Bob quickly noticed. “You’d have to get your mind wrapped around the thought that ‘I just have to hit this shot’ when you’re playing here.” Bob’s a nice player, so it was interesting to see his perspective from a golfer’s eye.

I could have sworn they planted three trees in the middle of the 11th fairway as I walked by. The National doesn’t comment on changes, but it’s clear they’re asking the player to hit their drives down the middle or the left side of the fairway. No more bailouts to the right and just hitting your second shot over toward twelve tee.

As we walked over to the 13th fairway, my friend Mike kept sliding up the rope trying to see how far back they’d moved the tee after acquiring some land from Augusta Country Club. “Honestly, I don’t know how far back it goes,” he said, shaking his head. “But unless you’re really bombing it out here, it’s a three-shot hole.” Watching two groups go through there confirmed his thought, as everybody laid up short of Rae’s Creek.

The walk back up, across the 14th and 15th fairways and around the 7th green gave more insight to the genius of the design of Augusta National. Certain trees were allowed to flourish toward the fairways at the tops, giving the sense that the landing areas were narrower than they actually are. If you think seven is one of the “easy” holes on the course, know that it’s now 450 skinny yards uphill to a tabletop green surrounded by bunkers. And if you don’t know the green, a six or more will easily appear on your scorecard.

As we walked behind the 8th tee, I encouraged Bob to walk back to the 18th to get a look at the chute the players have to hit their drive through just to hit the fairway. He was gone for a while. “That would be nerve wracking, coming here with the lead,” Bob said, also shaking his head. “You’d just have to say to yourself, ‘I need to make one more good swing,” and hope you hit it out there. Wow.”

The one common comment from all first timers is about the strenuous nature of the walk. Half-way up the 18th fairway, you still can’t see the flag on the green, and everybody stops and says the same thing: “You’d be tired after that walk.” And all professional golfers agree. A survey of PGA Tour players asked to name the hardest walk of the year among the courses they play, named Augusta National almost unanimously.
But of course, Augusta National. At the top every list.