Again, yes please, Rory McIlroy

Part of McIlroy's appeal is his public vulnerability. Without exception, he's addressed his failings on the course, and has always been candid and retrospective when pressed on them.

It's been a week and a half since then, and finally, I get around to relaying a few thoughts on the Masters and Rory McIlroy, a sportsman/person I have increasing respect for.

The past week has been quiet. For me, jet lag is unavoidable when travelling back from the U.S. Waking when the rest are sleeping gives ample opportunity for contemplation—no outside noise, just dead calm. So, I landed on this question:

What would it be if you could only leave Augusta's hallowed grounds with one thought? For me, it would be: "Never lose faith."

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Many say golf is challenging, even for the most gifted of players, and winning the Masters wasn't meant to be easy. But, finally, Rory McIlroy, a generational talent, prevailed through a rollercoaster ride for the ages.

"I didn't make it easy today," McIlroy said. "I certainly didn't make it easy. I was nervous.” Yes, Rory, we can attest to that!

With his first green jacket, McIlroy also completed the career Grand Slam. His playoff companion, Justin Rose, said, "We saw a part of history today. Someone won a career Grand Slam. It's a momentous day in the game of golf."

Is Justin Rose the best 44-year-old golfer on the planet? On Sunday's viewing, he would have to be close: Adam Scott and Sergio Garcia are also 44 and would have legit claims to the mantle. That said, Englishman Rose was all class Masters Sunday, pushing his Ryder Cup teammate to the absolute brink of despair.

Sitting on a United flight from Boston to San Francisco at the same time as the Sunday coverage commenced was nothing short of lunacy!

There I was, though, in situ and with only one course of action: buy the wifi and hope it worked. It did—and I had a golfing companion in the seat across the aisle. His telephone provider extended their data coverage to the skies, making him less likely to experience downtime during the telecast.

We watched Rory lose the Masters on hole one—a double bogey to Bryson DeChambeau's birdie. It was hard to tell if my new buddy was a patriot or not—or maybe he didn't like Bryson. Hole 13 probably gave the game away as there was a visible wince from him as Rory laid up and then proceeded to dunk his third into Rae’s Creek.

Hole 14 didn't improve our mood—another bogey. Then, some hope. At hole 15, after a miraculous second shot, we saw Rory winning again until he lost it again with a tentative eagle putt that slid under the hole. At the time, I thought there was no way in the world that Tiger would have missed the eagle. But then, Rory isn't Tiger, and Tiger isn't Rory.

It was at this point that I realised I was missing a beer. An attendant delivered a cold IPA at a reasonable cost with the obligatory pretzels, which I handballed to my new buddy.

At 16, Rory won again after a feathered eight-iron to a difficult back-right pin. Then, he handed it back with another indecisive run at birdie. This was getting increasingly more difficult to watch. Hole 17, and he was winning again after a precise approach gave him birdie and what seemed like a comfortable buffer. Only for McIlroy to give it all back with a timid six-foot putt for par at 18—the bogey saw him in a playoff with Rose, who confidently drained his birdie putt on 18.

I still don't know the guy's name in 32C; by this time, we had moved the conversation to this year's Ryder Cup, where he had tickets and what sounded like an outstanding itinerary, including some golf on eastern Long Island's famed courses. We had all but given up on Rory winning; he looked punch-drunk down the stretch, and Rose looked the exact opposite.

You don't need me telling you what happened next. Instead, it's best to reflect on the emotions that overwhelmed Rory after he drained the four-footer that dispelled all the inner and external demons.

"It was all relief," McIlroy said. "There wasn't much joy in that reaction. It was all relief. And then the joy came pretty soon after that." Perhaps he doesn't understand why he won it Sunday—really, though, who cares?

Part of McIlroy's appeal is his public vulnerability. Without exception, he addresses his failings on the course, and has always been candid and retrospective when pressed on them.

My friend and I stayed on the coverage long enough to watch the flurry of congratulators that lined Rory's passage back to the clubhouse. It was extraordinary viewing; I didn't know a half of them, but the feelings of joy and relief were palpable for all to see.

Of course, McIlroy's great mate, Shane Lowry, was there at the end of the queue. Their hug and embrace differed from the rest; both men have remained loyal to one another through the "thick" and the "thin."

One more time because there is always time for another pint!

"Never lose faith in yourself." “And always trust the wifi!”