Rory Mcilroy’s breathtaking victory has been as good as sport will ever be

Several times he followed the type of suffocated blows that were the notorious sign of Greg Norman on his last day suffocation for centuries in the same tournament In 1996 with masterful recovery strokes that simply removed their breath. During the tournament, Mcilroy hit four-Count EM Four-Double-Bogeys. But instead of throwing himself to the ground and crying, he composed, against every reason, and handed over birds.

A double bogey to start this day? No problem.

A shot in Cuneo who put his ball in the middle of what the inhabitants of Augusta call “Rae’s Creek”, but which for Mcilroy had obviously become a stream of another name, and was a man without a paddle. But no, he recovers again!

In the meantime, however, Rose quietly puts superb birds together, less the double Bogeys, to start mowing everyone between him and Mcilroy.

All this creates the best of the theater, the final act of the comedy.

For even when Mcilroy Cruises regardless of what seems to be a two-round victory, they continue to make shots for roses that-the event finished two lots in front of Mcilroy-is on the tee of practice, remaining bent and concentrated on the excessive deadline that his rival will play.

Surely, Rory will not let him skip and …

And before our eyes, on 18, he puts him in the bunker! Once again, it could be forgiven for having wrapped his club around the nearest tree, before falling to the ground and saying “I can’t do it anymore!” But no, it takes away a miraculous shot for bunker to get the green jacket in its narrow, if it can simply throw a relatively easy putt that should be able to knock on the eyes closed … only to … just to lose.

Mcilroy can clearly believe that this may have happened again. He is about to be humiliated as last year when in the latest holes of the US Open he has Brancitated four of the last five holes – including two sitters on 16 and 18 – to lose against Bryson Dechambeau? Cue Nick Fondo to the comment at that moment. “This will be persecuted Rory for the rest of his life, those two missed.”

Of ‘, Rory, are you facing him now, only worse? “Haunt”? If you lose this partner, it will be your vigil thought for the rest of your life!

The avid eyes, he heads towards the shirt for the play-off hole, with his caddy, Harry Diamond. The best friends since they were children and the best men at mutual marriage, the two speak in silence – are satisfied, Rory, are satisfied, it will be fine, when Justin Rose arrives.

And now, while Rose and Mcilroy face each other before starting, they look at each other, one boxing? They mutter raw impactments, since the cricket is famous? They also ignore each other since tennis don’t have to do in the Wimbledon tunnel?

None of the above.

Instead they embrace each other warmly and hopefully the best.

This time, no suffocation, no jokes. Rose hits a wonder to be a couple of meters from the hole – only for Mcilroy hits one even better, just one meter away. Rose Due-Putt to sink his.

To you, Rory.

This for money. For glory. For the back monkey. For your first older in 11 years. This, to take your place as one of the only six players in the history of Golf for completing Majors’ Grand Slam, with the last Tiger Woods 25 years ago. This for your mom and dad, who raised you as a single child and did so many sacrifices to give you all the chances of competing with the fring of more privileged people-even now they are looking at your childhood home in Holyrood, where you dreamed of this moment since the age of ten years onwards.

Can you do it?

Mcilroy groups him. Touch. Moves. . . Drifts. . . Drifts. . . In!

Victory!

Mcilroy puts his hands on his head, throwing the putter behind him while he does it. His whole body trembles of emotion.

Now, Rory now. Now you can launch yourself to the ground.

And so he does it, simply unable to stand.

Rose, although obviously devastated – the dream of his life, has snatched him only – is suspended in order not to prevent Mcilroy’s glory for a second. Only when Ebbs enters the frame, to warmly embrace his great rival and congratulate him sincerely with him, before retiring. The podium is all yours. It is sport, although golf becomes, which somehow resisted hand luggage, (yes, yes, apart from Liv, I mean) to maintain its pure class.

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Becoming towards the Club House, Mcilroy is further swallowed up by everyone, including wife and children, but it must finally unravel himself, to say “I have to go to take a green jacket”.

For that ceremony, he remains composed, until his parents, Rosie and Gerry Mcilroy, have grown up. The golfist breaks once again and can only go out who can’t wait to be at home with them in Ireland next week.

And then they give him the green jacket.

Bravo, the many of them. I’m telling you: sport, however well it is.

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