Rory McIlroy becomes perfect Ryder Cup animal and turns anger into energy | Jonathan Liew

Rory McIlroy went to bed with a noose on Saturday night. He had lost his four-ball match that afternoon, but that wasn’t the real problem. The Americans had celebrated by waving their caps exuberantly in solidarity with Patrick Cantlay, but that was not the problem.

What had really infuriated him was the antics of Cantlay’s caddy Joe LaCava, who landed in McIlroy’s face and whipped up the crowd just as he was about to line up a match-saving putt. McIlroy left the 18th green angrier than he had ever been on a golf course and was still in a blind rage when he returned to his chauffeured transport moments later.

From some dark and unfathomable place, he was obsessed with the idea of ​​storming into the American locker room and telling them exactly what he thought of them. When he saw Justin Thomas’ caddy in the park, he unleashed a tirade and came at him before being dragged back by Shane Lowry. Within minutes the images were on social media. And so, when McIlroy got up Sunday morning, he decided – as you did – to spend a few moments with the exquisite wisdom of the Roman philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius. “I had to calm myself down,” he said later. “Because I could have let that lead me down the wrong path, but I didn’t.”

In the last book of his famous Meditations, Aurelius writes: ‘First, do nothing thoughtlessly or without purpose. Second, make sure your actions serve nothing other than a social purpose.” Unfortunately, Aurelius neglects to say anything about starting a fight in a parking lot. Maybe that part was cut from the first version. Indeed, McIlroy’s rationale raised an intriguing question: if offering Bones Mackay is the right path, what exactly would have been the wrong one?

Within a few holes of his singles match against Sam Burns, we got a little closer to discovering the answer. The European fans serenaded him with their now-famous rendition of the Cranberries’ Zombie: “He’s in your head, in your head, Rory, Rory, Rory-ry-ry…” Meanwhile, world No. 2 had himself locked in his own head. Even as the red blocks began to gather on the scoreboards, he kept his gaze straight ahead, on the ball and the goal he wanted to attack directly.

There is a devastating simplicity to McIlroy’s golf at its most aggressive. It’s as if he can barely see the green: everything else beyond that waving flag might as well be irrelevant. Going into the third, he fired his approach high and straight, landing just eight feet from the cup and stroking the smooth birdie putt down the hill with the assurance of a man catching a grape in his mouth. By the seventh hole he was 3up, and on a day when Europe could afford to endure a few bumps in the road, McIlroy was determined he would not be one of them.

A perfect approach to part three 17th sealed the deal. There were hugs, sighs, and even a few tears as he thought about what it all meant. Because McIlroy has been harboring a different kind of grudge for the past two years. At Whistling Straits in 2021, he became the talisman of Europe and left with the biggest disappointment: only one point in four, and the outrage of being benched for the first time in his Ryder Cup career. This was a kind of counter-reaction, but it was also a kind of personal revenge, a matter not just of team glory but of individual honor, a reassurance that he is still the player he thinks he is.

It’s curious to think that McIlroy was actually one of the worst players in Europe on that flawless Friday morning as Tommy Fleetwood dragged through against an indifferent Cantlay and Xander Schauffele. From that moment on, something seems to have clicked in him, a determination not just to contribute, but to lead. The clutch putts are on the decline. The galleries swayed and danced to his tune. The result: four points, the richest harvest of his career and the best of all 24 golfers in Rome this week. Turns out LaCava picked the wrong guy to feud with.

And perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that McIlroy produced his best golf in the shadow of a storm. He has always been an unusually emotional performer, driven not only by personal accolades, but also by the idea of ​​playing for something bigger than himself. Is it really a coincidence that his recent return to form has come in the wake of the LIV Gulf earthquake and his vocal opposition to it? Perhaps that volatility is one reason he’s about to celebrate a decade without a major championship. But it also makes him the perfect Ryder Cup animal, the blood in the veins of Europe, a captain in all but name.

Just before 7pm Italian time, McIlroy and his jubilant colleagues took to the stage to answer questions. He sat in the top row, put his feet up on the table, drank a beer and joked, finally looking like a man at one with the world. You can keep your Roman philosophy and your positive mantras. It turns out that all McIlroy ever really needed to find peace was winning.