It feels like Rory McIlroy has been doing this to us for practically his whole career. Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory and victory from defeat – like someone who gives you butterflies on a first date and then doesn’t text back, leaving us tossing and turning in our sleep; sweating, ponderous, infuriated.
But that is part of the charm, the contract we all unwittingly sign when following somebody like McIlroy. At last year’s Open Championship at St Andrews, he held a joint four-shot lead over the rest of the field after the third round, before falling away as Cameron Smith surged to claim the Claret Jug. Last weekend at the Scottish Open, McIlroy finished birdie-birdie after two outrageous approaches on the 17th and 18th to claim the £1.2m prize from under the nose of home favourite Bob MacIntyre, with McIlroy calling the latter shot “one of the best of my career”. He is frustrating and thrilling in equal measure, but never boring.
