IT was all going so well – but then, those words are starting to feel like a record stuck on repeat by now.
At Royal County Down on Sunday, Rory McIlroy had the guts of the heavy lifting done again; a second Irish Open title within his grasp after a solid, occasionally spectacular, three days. How it finished up, though, was all too familiar.
In the mix at the top of the leaderboard from day one, perfectly placed on day two, top after day three, four shots clear early on day four… and then - how many more ‘and thens’ can the Holywood man endure?
Because this is far beyond the point of just being bad luck.
His talent is beyond question, and nobody can win four Majors without the ability to handle the heat when it comes on. But those came so long ago – the last won at Royal Liverpool in 2014 – that they belong in an entirely different chapter of the Rory McIlroy story.
In fact, this is a whole other book, one fast turning into some kind of stranger-than-fiction horror affair as, with each near miss, the knife is twisted further. You like it dark? Well, you’ve come to the right place.
Because beneath the beautiful blue skies that showed the glorious course in its best possible light, and the Sunday sun that helped draw crowds to Newcastle, the nightmare that would ultimately unfold was already in the air.
For good or for bad, it is what we have come to expect from McIlroy.
He doesn’t do linear, straightforward success. Nor, by and large, does he slip meekly out of sight. Somewhere in the mix there is always hope, always just that hint of ‘what if?’
What if he pulls it off? What if he chokes? The prospect of the ensuing inquest, should things not go to plan, always lurks large in the shadows.
On Sunday, there was a sense that someone was always going to come out of the pack. Matteo Manassero couldn’t quite recapture the form that catapulted him up towards the top. Dan Brown was the name on lips for half an hour or so. Then came Rasmus Hojgaard.
This was not an outsider coming up the rails on a wing and a prayer; there were no frantic Google searches required when birdies started to drop. His pedigree alone spread a certain amount of panic.
And, as Hojgaard started to gather momentum, so the tide would turn, bringing the on-course mood with it; all the shouts of “mon Rory” and “let’s goooo Rory” suddenly giving way to increasingly anxious squints at the scoreboard.
A McIlroy birdie at the 11th looked to have relieved the pressure valve after a couple of close calls in previous holes, but the great Dane was just getting ready to turn the screw. Yet that tells only part of the story.
Because, as with those shocking missed putts that brought the pain in Pinehurst, McIlroy will know, when a moment of solace can finally be found, that he made an immeasurable contribution to his own downfall once more.
Missing the green on 15 was a killer he could not afford at that stage; the long putt on 17 borderline inexplicable as it whizzed beyond the hole, leaving him with a tall order to save par. When he didn’t, only an eagle at the last could bring about a play-off.
The muted cheers in the distance already told everybody, McIlroy included, that Hojgaard had held up his end of the bargain – rolling home to rack up a fourth birdie in-a-row, moving onto nine under and leaving McIlroy with a mountain as big as the Mournes’ highest peak to climb.
“I knew what I needed to do on the 18th tee.
“Driver probably wasn’t the shot that was in play because it brought those three bunkers into play, but I needed to try to make eagle. I had to try to thread it through those bunkers, which I did, and then yeah, the seven-iron was… yeah, probably two of the best shots I’ve hit all week.
“I thought I hit the putt with good enough speed for it to sort of come down the hill a little more. It just hung up there. Maybe the wind had a little to do with that coming out of the left.
“But I guess I can take the positives; that I hit the shots when I needed to, knowing that I needed to make a three.”
As McIlroy paced the green, Hojgaard paced the recorders’ room out the back of the 18th, readying himself to hear the loudest cheer of the day as Rory somehow saved the day.
“I could barely watch,” said the 23-year-old, “I was actually shaking…”
The crowd was done with protocol by that stage.
Having been urged to stay behind the ropes all day, a final break for freedom up the final fairway proved too much for officialdom to handle; a hastily-constructed human wall just enough to keep the crowds within a couple of hundred yards of the green.
Wayne ‘Radar’ Riley, Sky Sports’ veteran on-course commentator, was telling anyone who would listen that he had never experienced a European Tour atmosphere like it. This, he insisted, was as close to an Open Championship feel as it got.
Unfortunately for Mcllroy, that Major feel – and the near miss disappointment with which he has now become inextricably linked - was all-too-familiar as that last ball drifted wide of its target.
“Yeah, the support, I’m very lucky.
“I get so much support when I come back - I certainly don’t take it for granted. I sort of had to try to keep my composure walking up to the 18th green there, I did that as best as I could.
“But yeah, I wish I could play in front of those fans and this atmosphere every week; it isn’t quite like that… I can’t wait to come back.”
And so, long after the crowds dispersed, the sun finally set over a quiet, calm Royal County Down; the third Sunday in September had served up another classic, just as always seemed to be the case.
But, for Rory McIlroy, all it brought was same damn result.
