Welcome to Rorytown
Back-to-back Masters wins puts Rory firmly in the pantheon of greats, while placing Augusta in the palm of his hand.
Leave it to Rory McIlroy to inspire a clearing of the cobwebs over on Game Over, Ball Burst, which, must like the golfer himself, has had a quiet opening to 2026 after a blistering and unforgettable 2025. However, unlike Rory, I’d love to say that I’ve been grafting in the shadows, sharpening my keyboard ahead of a big Majors season, day-tripping to the course after the school-run, but that is sadly not the case.
Travel, work and the impending doom hovering over planet Earth have all contributed to a loss of form and a tumbleweed forming around the GOBB offices.
But there’s not much better than a Masters tournament, another episode of the award-winning Rory drama and a lick fresh of paint to find renewed vigour to get back into action.
You might notice a new, sort of Masters-inspired colour scheme around here, or perhaps a tribute to reigning All-Ireland champions Kerry. The new green and yellow branding scheme was my latest example of procrastination from actually writing on this thing, when I cobbled it together last week in anticipation of returning to the newsletter in a post-Masters roll of thunder.
This weekend, after a decade of Masters turmoil and almost Animaniacs levels of cartoonish anguish, Rory McIlroy showed how Augusta National is his town now. Not only has he finally found the key to the front door, he’s changed the locks, grabbed himself a cold iced beer and created his very own ass-groove on the sofa. That’s his television set, those are his slippers. Those are his beers in the fridge.
Last year’s victory was the tsunami of relief, sealing a long-awaited golfing Grand Slam and releasing a powder keg of pent up Masters pressure. This year’s victory didn’t come without its drama, but it presented a player who knew the course inside out and had matured enough to wrestle it into submission.
Friday’s score taking him to -12 heading into the weekend was absurd, especially consider he was playing so loosely. At various points over the weekend he lost his iron play and pulled a few putts, but as the course brought everyone down to size come Sunday night, Rory rarely looked any more than slightly uncomfortable.
Which is brazeningly un-Rorylike considering he had somehow relinquished a 6-hole lead and the overall lead after a double-bogeyed fourth hole. Scottie Scheffler shook the earth coming down the stretch, but ran out of holes, whilst Cameron Young and Justin Rose, after various flirtations with the lead, eventually succumbed to the Masters blackhole.
Sam Burns and Shane Lowry fell off drastically, Haotong Li came and memely dropped off the face of the leaderboard. As the temperature intensified, Rory looked like the only player coping. Seriously deep scars still exist, especially for us onlookers who wince and squirm at every wayward Rangefinder line.
Of course, it’s never straight forward when he’s in play, not least with an 18th drive flew so wayward right that McIlroy had to manage game of musical chairs to move patrons out of the firing line. He had lost that swagger and jaunty gait, looking tired and saggy. You sure get your money’s worth with this guy.
But his quality and touch never waned. With the finishing line in sight, a gorgeous chip shot onto the green on 17th, after a Tiger-esque approach putt, Rory knew exactly how to maneuver himself towards a tournament-winning putt. The glorious lift out of the bunker on 18, when a more tense pair of arms, or indeed an older version of Rory McIlroy may have shrank deep within its pits as the sandy walls cocooned around him.
The line from Rory coming out of his 2025 win was “what are we all going to talk about next year?!”. Talk of going back-to-back was tempered in the run up to the tournament. More than ever it seemed like a bolter was due, perhaps a rookie could rise to the test.
And then Rory wagged his finger at those doubting him again. Entering the bastion of greats, probably the greatest European golfer ever, and into privileged territory as only the fourth to defend a Masters title.
The course, longer than ever, is his now - malleable in the palms of his hands.