PORTRUSH, Northern Ireland — Those slate gray skies, the ones tiptoing by in the west, sure seemed like they were going to skirt past. So as players left Royal Portrush after practice was suspended Monday, many of us remained on the course, confident in our decisions.
Ten minutes later, what was blue above gave way to gray.
There would be no skirting past.
No regrets, though. Because see, this is when these things happen. This is when, at least in this part of the world, conversation comes. This is when, especially in this part of the world, you learn just how small of a place it is, even as the entire golf ecosystem descends upon this tiny resort town along the Antrim coast.
It was midday Monday when two of us found a sliver of shelter behind a scoreboard near Portrush’s fourth hole. Soon, we were fast friends. No introductions. Just straight to it.
Him? Oh, he lives in Belfast, but holds a membership at Portrush. He loves the course, loves the club, loves Irish golf. Is he a fan of Rory McIlroy? Are you kidding? He remembers Rory as a kid, back when he was growing up in Holywood, just outside Belfast, about an hour from here. He remembers when little Rory, at a local golf shop, was about £25 short when trying to buy a pair of FootJoys he really liked. The store owner gave ’em a wink and a deal — exactly £25 off. He remembers when, after Rory won the Doral Junior Under-10 World Championship in 1998, a representative from Acushnet visited town to put eyes on the prodigious lad. Seeing Rory swing, the rep deemed him too small to ever be a world-class pro, but furnished him with a new trio of Titleist wedges, anyway.
Good laughs. But now the rain was really coming. Off he went on a dash to the car park.
This is Portrush, where, even on a week that’s so big, everything can feel very small. Personal, even. The course last hosted the Open Championship in 2019, a rousing week that began with a storyline polished smooth — the tournament’s return to the course for the first time in 68 years, a period that, not coincidentally, spanned generations of political unrest and the sectarian violence that came amid “The Troubles.” So much surrounding that Open came pulled through that inescapable lens. In its focus were two countries — Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland — and the difficult divides that can come with being Irish.
This version? Call it a testament to time passing. Not much need for all that pretense.
This is about the Open, a championship in its 153rd year. And it’s about Portrush, a seasonal town of 6,000 or so, one with a Ferris wheel and a long swath of beach, and dogs off leashes, and a gem of a links course that’s carved its place in the Open rota. And it’s about Irish golf.
You could see it Monday afternoon on Causeway Street, not far from the course entrance. One by one, fans stopped in front of a mural of Shane Lowry holding the Claret Jug — a celebration of his 2019 win at Portrush. They smiled, snapped their pictures and selfies, and bounced along. Six years ago, it was an inescapable part of the storyline — a man from Clara, County Offaly, coming to Northern Ireland to win the Open, setting off a celebration that was both jubilant and complicated. But now there’s this — a mural, one that, one might notice, happens to sit across the street from St. Patrick’s, a small Catholic church with only 19 pews.
“A place that I know and love,” Lowry said Monday of Portrush.
Shane Lowry’s 2019 Open win is remembered near the course. (Andy Buchanan / Agence France-Presse via Getty Images)
Lowry’s trip here six years ago came deep in McIlroy’s shadow. That was, until he made it to the weekend with a pair of 67s and a tie of the lead. Then came the round of a lifetime — an 8-under 63 that he can still hardly explain — and clear path to victory. He arrived at the 18th hole that Sunday with a six-shot lead and paraded down the fairway in some kind of dreamscape.
Lowry expects the course to play a bit tougher this week than it did in 2019. He was reminded in Monday’s practice round how well bunkered the course is. He was also reminded what it means for the Open to be here.
“Look, it is a big event for all us Irish people here this week. It’s huge,” Lowry said. “If you give yourself a chance, you never know what could happen if you do something very special.”
Which brings us back to McIlroy.
It’s hard to have a conversation in Portrush without the name coming up. The same thing every time. Can you imagine? If McIlroy’s cathartic win at Augusta National in April was a moment of self-actualization for a generational player, a win this week would be something else entirely. A moment of emotional release for a person and a place that would be without description.
McIlroy first played Portrush at 10 years old, when he begged his parents to take him and finally scored the trip as a birthday present. Six years later, he returned to shoot a course-record 61 in his European Tour debut at the Dunlop Masters. Portrush’s place in McIlroy’s origin story turned his 2019 Open appearance into a foregone conclusion — a homecoming victory for the ages.
Then 30 years old and five years removed from his previous major victory, McIlroy approached that year’s Open with a sense of avoidance, as if not wanting to let it be as big as it was being made to be. A difficult bargain.
“I probably tried to isolate,” McIlroy acknowledged Monday.
The result: 79 impossibly poor shots in one of the most jarring, infamous first-round implosions in recent golf history and a missed cut.
Maybe it’s age, or the relief of that Masters victory, but things will be different this time. Seemingly, everyone at Portrush claims some kind of piece of McIlroy. The adults all have their stories of where they were when he did this or he won that. The kids, the ones using umbrellas to take practice swings and leaning over rope lines with flags to sign, are all here for him. There’s no need to avoid what’s all very obvious.
The plan for 2025?
“I think it’s better for everyone if I embrace it,” McIlroy said.
That will come later. Monday, McIlroy arrived first thing in the morning to put in work. Despite a late Sunday in the final group at the Scottish Open (where he finished two shots behind winner Chris Gotterup), McIlroy was one of the first players to arrive at Portrush for his Monday practice. On four hours of sleep, he was through the front nine before fans began spreading across the course and finished 18 in time for lunch.
As the week goes, the attention will build. McIlroy knows it. Memories of ’19 aren’t too far off. He remembers the worst kind of internal pressure — “Not wanting to let people down” — and how he collapsed underneath it. He remembers arriving at the first tee and being hit with an ovation that stole all the oxygen. He remembers “being a little taken aback, like, geez, these people really want me to win.”
This week won’t sound any different.
But it’ll be different.
(Illustration: Will Tullos / The Athletic; photo of Rory McIlroy: Ramsey Cardy / Getty Images)
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