Sport sucks... and that’s why G-Mac had to get in on merit
SOMETIMES sport sucks. No matter the outcome, it was a rotten shame that Jimmy Greaves did not feature in the 1966 World Cup final for England. The same goes for Roy Keane and Paul Scholes with Manchester United at Nou Camp in 1999, or Laurent Blanc when France won the World Cup in Paris a year earlier. George Best never played so much as a minute in the finals of an international tournament.
Alex Partridge, a member of Great Britain’s coxless four rowing team, suffered a collapsed lung seven weeks before the 2004 Olympics. His place was taken by Ed Coode who, along with James Cracknell, had the idea of writing Partridge’s name on the front of their boat so he would always be first across the line.
And that was how it was when, on August 21, they finished eight hundredths of a second ahead of Canada to claim gold. Even so, for Partridge, it probably still sucked.
It would have sucked, too, had Graeme McDowell not been present for the Open at Royal Portrush in County Antrim this summer. McDowell is one of the reasons the tournament is returning to Northern Ireland after an absence of 68 years, an acknowledgement of the contribution made by a trio of golfers — Rory McIlroy and Darren Clarke being the others.
Royal Portrush was considered too remote, too lacking in the necessary space and infrastructure to host a modern golf championship. Yet the successes and popularity of McIlroy, McDowell and Clarke placed pressure on the R&A to offer a gesture of thanks. In 2015, they saw sense and sent the Open outside the mainland for the first time since 1951. For McDowell, born in
Portrush 39 years ago, it would have been a proud moment. Yet with the 2019 Open looming, he was struggling to qualify. He is no longer in the world’s top 50, wasn’t in the 2018 Open’s top 10, was not a playing member of the 2018 Ryder Cup team — nor did McDowell fit any of the 35 other criteria for qualification.
Even his victory at the 2010 US Open could not help — exemptions for the British equivalent lasting only five years. McDowell was gloomily frank about his predicament.
‘It would be unbearable if I wasn’t in that field,’ he said. ‘The most miserable week of my career. No amount of alcohol could keep me there, if I wasn’t playing.’
It was at this point that public representations began to be made about a wild card entry for McDowell, if all else failed.
How could the Open go ahead in Portrush without its most famous sporting son? Would he not be a worthier inclusion than some of the players who come through the qualifying route — which last time included Haraldur Magnus of Iceland, the current world No 1,369?
In terms of box office and emotion, yes. In terms of sporting credibility? No.
This flint-hearted sentiment was supported when, late on Sunday, McDowell sank a 30-foot putt on the 18th green at Hamilton to secure a berth inside the top 10 of the Canadian Open and reach Portrush by right. Among the qualifying paths are three places for golfers not yet included, who finish inside the Canadian Open’s top 10. That final putt left McDowell eighth. He was in. So sometimes sport doesn’t suck. But it soon would if we let romance override merit. For then, McDowell wouldn’t necessarily have delivered the marvellous drama that unfolded in Hamilton, because there would have been no obligation.
A call would have come, advising him that he need not sweat qualification for Portrush and he could have played in Canada without pressure and without the desire that drove his success.
And sport would not have been better for that, because there is no worthwhile narrative if we know the ending.
McDowell will be at Pebble Beach this week because winners of the US Open are exempt for 10 years. He can play next year at Winged Foot in New York, too. After that, he is on his own. He has to qualify, like the rest of the field.
Angel Cabrera won the US Open in 2007 and played the tournament the decade after until 2017, when his participation stopped. The 10-year exemption was over and Cabrera’s game no longer strong enough to win a place.
Yet if it returned, or if Cabrera won the 2019 US Senior Open, he would be back in — as David Toms is this year for winning the 2018 edition.
And that is why the major senior events matter and why boring old rules matter and why the unflinching demands of qualification matter, as heartless as they may seem.
Without disappointment, without heartbreak, without failure, those moments of triumph would be meaningless.
McDowell making a 30-foot putt is a feat of resolve, McDowell allowed in for old time’s sake is a sentimental sop. If sport always delivered what we wanted without a fight, it really would suck.