Finishing Second...
The recently completed U.S. Open—already nearly a fortnight ago—was won by a single shot—270 played 271. Rory McIlroy finished second to American Wyndham Clark. On the other side of the pond, England begrudgingly finished second to Australia in the first Ashes Test. How finishing second can be different.
The sporting world moves quickly; both cricket and golf—well, pretty much all sports—cricket and golf, though, two of my preferred pastimes, seem to be galloping along at a dizzying pace.
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Firstly, golf:
150 odd likely possibles teed it up a week ago last Thursday at the Los Angeles Country Club (LACC); the following Saturday morning that number came down to 70, and then late Sunday afternoon (Pacific time) it was just two: Wyndham Clark (270), the winner, and Rory McIlroy (271),the eternal bridesmaid.
In some ways, golf resembles a lottery in the sense that both involve a considerable element of chance and unpredictability. A lottery’s variables are numbers—lots of them—whereas golf’s outcomes can be influenced by factors beyond a player's control, such as weather conditions, course setup, slow play, an ill-considered pairing, or even an official’s rules interpretation.
Cricket is an entirely different animal.
Fundamentally, it’s a two-horse race; a side can win, lose, tie, or draw(so four results available to the two combatants).
The game's dynamic primarily involves interactions between the batting and bowling teams—those teams being skill groups within teams. Individual strategy and execution influence the performance of the skill groups, which then determines the outcome of ball against bat or bat against ball. There is a considerable individual bent to it, but not to the same degree as golf.
Back to golf and Rory McIlroy.
If McIlroy was to end his burgeoning Major’s drought, LACC was going to be the place. After all, he was born in Hollywood, Northern Ireland, so you’d think the golfing gods should align. Alas, it wasn’t to be, again; he missed by a single shot, 271 to 270, and the naysayers came a-running from the hills—Hollywood style.
This was tweeted by my new bestie golf buddy, Kevin Van Valkenburg:
“Rory’s play today should absolutely be critiqued. But it’s kind of fascinating that we save our strongest criticisms for athletes who finish second as opposed to 3rd or 5th or 20th. Being *almost great* annoys people more than being slightly worse.”
Which segues nicely into the golf and cricket comparison.
England finished second to Australia in the first Ashes Test, and their spiritual coach, Brendon McCullum, responded by saying, "It felt like they (England) had won."
I suppose McIlroy could have adopted the Bazball code on numerous occasions—go figure!
I plan to get back to the cult of Bazball later this week. For now, let's just say that cults are attractive, they are believable, they thrive with charismatic leadership, and they are to be worshipped in the face of boring practicality.
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When Rory McIlroy strode—he does stride with the best—onto the 18th tee (his 72nd hole) at LACC, it wasn't a place he hadn’t been before.
Wyndham Clark stood behind him on the 17th green, striving to overcome the first-night nerves that should affect all aspiring actors. McIlroy needed a birdie; Clark would settle for pars. If one landed and the other missed, a playoff was on, and you would guess McIlroy should run out on top—2014 seemed like a lifetime ago. This major—if he won—could define McIlroy’s career.
When McIlroy made it to the 18th green, his ball had the look of a lonely widower merely passing time; it sat some 40 feet from the cup. Probability was against him—he hadn’t made 40 feet of putts all round—and now he had to summon all his skill to try and coax this white sphere into a shrinking hole in the ground.
McIlroy eyed it, circled it, and stared it down, willing himself all along to forget the missed opportunities that littered his golf this Father's Day Sunday.
If this were Jack (Nicklaus), the odds would change; if it were Tiger, a playoff would be inevitable. This was Rory McIlroy, though. He’d been here before and not closed the deal. Today could be different, though.
There’s been a lot of this over the last eight years, 10 months, and eight days—not counting since his last major. The putt missed short and right; he had no chance of making it—since his fourth hole on Saturday, McIlroy had failed to make a putt longer than 7 feet. A good portion of his recent major remorse has been self-inflicted.
After Wyndham Clark had gathered his pars at 17 and 18, McIlroy was left to face the music; he’s answered his fair share of media questions these last 18 months, and Sunday at the U.S. Open, after another narrow loss, was going to be no exception.
Almost through the arduous ordeal, there was to be one last question—guess who?—yes, Kevin Van Valkenburg, who asked if it had been exhausting having to answer the same old questions—over and over. McIlroy forced a wry Irish grin.
"It is," he said, "but at the same time, when I do finally win this next major, it’s going to be really, really sweet. I would go through 100 Sundays like this to get my hands on another major championship."
I said earlier that McIlroy strides with the best of them—he does.
It's a bouncy walk; he uses the front part of his feet to elevate himself with every step. His arms—not always in total unison—turn outward and give the impression he is moving into a semi-trot. Old-fashioned speak would draw comparisons to a show-pony. For me, it’s just a natural gait that will be with him for the rest of his days.
And, for what it's worth, I am going to say:
Walk tall, Rory McIlroy; you have already achieved more than most can dream of—keep bouncing along, continue to be cheeky if you like, and do not settle for 3rd, 5th, or 20th.
Take note, England.
