Resilience, Humanity and the Curious Case of Rory McIlroy
- PG Geldenhuys
- 6 hours ago
- 3 min read
Right. So I know I’m late to the party, it’s all been said, but I do feel like I need to close the loop on this one. If you’re not a golfer or a lover of a great redemption story, move on.
Two weeks ago, I wrote about how it was Rory’s time. How the stars were aligning for his greatest comeback, and how I believed he would finally complete the career Grand Slam and claim the US Masters Green Jacket.
Boy, did he deliver. But in a way that was so much HIM, so much of the frailty and self-destruction and near-misses that we had become used to… and at the same time, how he demonstrated inhuman self-belief, extraordinary courage and inspirational resilience.
Man. What a late-night golfing drama, for us here in South Africa.
And it was all there on the Sunday. Our protagonist in full bloom, but his antagonists hard to hate, the current past and future stars of the game throwing all that they could at Augusta, Rory and the fates. Justin Rose, the elegant veteran, rolled back the years with a vintage charge that stirred memories of his golden years. Ludvig Åberg, the serene young Swede, already a Ryder Cup hero, playing without fear, announcing that the future of European golf is in very good hands. Bryson DeChambeau, the power-hitter turned pantomime villain, his shadow looming after snatching the U.S. Open from Rory’s grasp less than a year ago. Patrick Reed, ever the contrarian, lurking with grim determination, eager to crash the party yet again with moments of audacious brilliance.
And yet, amid the swirl of stories and tensions, it was Rory’s humanity – his frailty, his fire –that lit up Augusta.
He didn’t cruise to victory. He stumbled, he battled. Three times he let the door swing open: a double bogey on 1, playing it safe and finding water on Amen Corner, short putts missed on 14,15, 16 and 18. Each moment was a whispered invitation to doubt. And for a while, it looked like doubt might accept.
He found a way back every time. Shots of incredible brilliance, of pure genius, of undeniable courage. Some Seve in there, escaping out of the trees every time. Some Tiger, pulling off approach shots that defied belief. Some Nicklaus, shrugging off the setbacks and staying patient. It was mesmerising.
And then came the final act.
Another missed putt to claim victory on the last hole. Whispers of 2024, and a worldwide audience going back to the 10th tee for the playoff, holding its breath. Would he choke again? Could he hold his core, given the unbelievable pressure and emotional drain of the last four days… no, the last 14 years?
The answer is YES. He hit a flawless drive, and followed up Rose’s stunning approach effort with his own touch of genius. His ball drifted back to the hole, ensuring a short putt. Rose missed his makeable effort, then it was all up to Rory. He stepped up, and this time, did not falter. The warrior collapsed on the green, not in the joy of victory, but in the release of a decade of tension and pressure and expectation. It was awesome to watch.
It was not the perfect round, but it was the perfect redemption.
If you watched it live like I did, you would have been struck by how he was deeply flawed off the tee, and on the greens. Every time he played with swagger and intent, he succeeded. Every time he backed down and let the demons tell him to play it safe, he faltered.
I have a lot of plans. Plans for the day, plans for the week, plans for the year, plans for life. But life also happens. Things get in the way. I get in my own way. And I suppose what I’ll take from all this is to make plans but be careful to roll with the changes. To make sure I play with passion and purpose and courage but also know that our failures, our humanity, are what make us relatable and worth rooting for. That the best-laid plans get derailed, and all we can do is work with what we've got and be open to the lessons.
PG’s Pro Tip: It’s not in hiding our humanity that we inspire – it’s in embracing it
Rory’s win reminds us: vulnerability is not the enemy of greatness. It's the root of it.
In your moments of tension – when the old doubts creep in, when the stakes feel suffocating – remember Rory at Augusta. He didn’t win because he was flawless. He won because he kept showing up. Because when the pressure was greatest, he dared to believe – not in perfection, but in perseverance.
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