The torture was over, the sun shone and images of the familiar toothy grin were sprouting across Holywood, the birthplace of the embodiment of agony and ecstasy known as Rory McIlroy.
It was Monday afternoon and the Northern Ireland town could finally flaunt images of its most famous son without risk of jinxing him, because he had won the Masters and history was in the bag.
Hours after his triumph at Augusta paved his way to golf immortality and global acclaim, McIlroy grinned from shop windows, gallery portraits, magazine covers, digital displays – and biscuits.
“They have been flying out the door since 8am. My wife has been printing more pictures all morning,” said Graham McMorris, a co-owner of Skinners bakery, which had already sold several hundred Rory biscuits – a concoction of butter, sugar, flour, jam, icing and sweet, sweet pride – at £1.20 each.
Since the prodigy swept through golf like a wildfire just over a decade ago – and then flamed out at successive major tournaments – his career has become a psychodrama that tormented his fans and fascinated the sporting world.
For Holywood, a picturesque County Down town outside Belfast, it was personal. If the town name was just shy of fairytale, so too was their sporting hero. McIlroy grew up and mastered the game here, a toddler with a club then a boy who flicked balls into a washing machine and set course records, before becoming arguably the greatest player of his generation.
By 2014 McIlroy had won the Open, the US Open and the US PGA but the Masters eluded him – until Sunday, when a rollercoaster performance of sublime shots and terrible errors ended with a sudden death playoff and, eventually, a victory that made him the sixth man to complete the career grand slam.
“Torture, my God, it was torture. He nearly forced me to drink. But he held his nerve,” said Eileen Paterson, among a group of former ladies’ captains at Holywood’s golf club. “We always had great hopes for him.”
“It was exactly what we expected of Rory: up, down, up, down,” said Sheelagh Davidson, another former captain, who is 92 and still plays.
“If ever there is water on the 18th hole, Rory will find it,” said Brenda Alderdice.
One club member sought refuge from the tension of the game by tidying her kitchen. Another took a bath. Others compared the experience to having a stomach churn like McIlroy’s old washing machine.
“Pleasure. Pain. Euphoria. Despair. The essential Rory,” said the Belfast Telegraph. “The great dichotomy of the man. It’s never straightforward. Never.”
A decade ago some in Northern Ireland had not warmed to the wunderkind because he was too successful, too talented, too rich, the newspaper noted, but the ensuing disappointments and fallibility changed that. “We have felt his pain. Followed his journey back to this point.”
McIlroy lives in the US but retains close ties to Northern Ireland. His caddie and best friend is Harry Diamond, another Holywood golf club alumnus. He frequently visits his parents, who still live here, and supports local charities.
So even the town’s non-golfers celebrated. “Everyone is buzzing about it,” said Mary Cullen, who wondered if her grandsons might switch from football and hockey to golf.
Ronnie McKeaveney said he normally cared little for the sport but was mesmerised by the unfolding contest in Augusta. “I nearly fell off my seat. When he won I called up to my wife who was in bed. It’s just great for the county, great for the country.”
It was also great for Jossie Pops, a Holywood artist who two years ago painted a large portrait of the golfer. “My phone has just lit up with people asking for copies,” he said. On Monday Pops collected the original – price: £4,950 – from a gallery to bring to a private viewing. Hauling it to his car, a voice yelled from a passing truck: “Go on Rory!”
Northern Ireland’s first minister, Michelle O’Neill, promised a rapturous homecoming. “I think we have to have the biggest party possible,” she said. “We are so proud of what he has achieved: he speaks so loudly to all young people out there that if you have a dream, that you can achieve it.”
Ian Carson, 50, a Holywood decorator, said the golfer transcended the region’s sectarian divide. “He covers all the angles. It doesn’t matter what religion you are.”
