On Monday, I flew to Dublin. There on the walls of the airport, alongside various Irish people I did not immediately recognise, was Rory McIlroy. Smiling. Broadly.
It was such a pleasure to see; he has not been doing much of it lately.
The last mental image I had of him was one most golf fans share: a grim-faced figure, white cap rammed ferociously down over recalcitrant curls, striding off a golf course in Florida half way through his second round in the Honda Classic. He was seven over par at the time, and his ball was in the water. So he gave vent to his misery and frustration. All golfers know that feeling: my 11-year-old son once threw his clubs into the car after a particularly wild nine holes and announced: “I am never playing that game again.” Then he noticed the 50-year-old in the car next to us, doing exactly the same.
But McIlroy is not an 11-year-old, or even a 50-year-old amateur. He is the world No 1 and he is expected to uphold the sporting conduct of golf; to be gracious and resolute in defeat as well as charming in victory. “I’m not in a good place mentally,” he told reporters afterwards - a statement contradicted by the one issued officially some hours later which suggested that terrible toothache was the problem. “McIlroy not in a good place dentally” quipped via Twitter.
Because of course we all know what the problem is. In the goldfish bowl of modern sport, we all have a view on the source of McIlroy’s loss of form and humour. Some opine that it is his new squillion pound deal with Nike that is to blame; he does not like the clubs he now has to play with.
But since I am a romantic, or maybe a cynic, I like the ‘uh oh, Rory’s love affair with the Danish tennis star Caroline Wozniacki is in trouble’ theory. This deduction, much touted on social networks, is based on nothing stronger than the fact that the two haven’t been exchanging many Twitter messages recently - and are both undergoing a dip in playing standards. It is possibly, therefore, entirely untrue.
The strange burden of success has taken some of the happy-go-lucky quality out of McIlroy’s game: if he is thinking about being No 1 it is probably that much harder to play like it. Especially when you are only 23.
What is noticeable is how much goodwill he still commands. His statement — “What I did was not good for the tournament, not good for the kids and the fans who were out there watching me. It was not the right thing to do” — has done exactly what it was intended to do. McIlroy had to move from Hollywood, Ireland, to sunny Florida to become the star. But if he wants to put his sunny smile back on his face, it is not just his swing he has to sort out. He needs to find a way, in all the madness and fame that surrounds him, to rediscover the joy he once had in playing. To establish some roots. To be himself.
Daily Telegraph