FANTASY IRELAND
Under stress, under expectation, under pressure after a Major collapse, hero Lowry was under no one at the end
LONG before Shane Lowry’s final tee shot split the 18th fairway, the engraver’s work was done.
Lowry’s name had been carved into the Claret Jug, into golf’s history books, into Ireland’s rich sporting folklore.
The rain had eased, the tears teemed, from his wife Wendy, from his dad Brendan.
And as he looked down at one of sport’s most fabled and beautiful trophies, Lowry fought to hold his back. It was the only battle he looked like losing all day.
His round of 72 was nine shots worse than his previous one but umpteen times as good. Under stress, under expectation heavier than the leaden skies, under pressure from the demons of a previous collapse, the big man barely flinched.
His game remained strong, his mind remained stronger and, through a golfing triumph, he united the island of Ireland.
Lowry had laid himself bare after his third round, talking about his nerves, struggling to explain how he had coped with blowing a four-shot lead in the final round of the 2016 US Open at Oakmont.
He admitted getting jittery before his first tee shot of the championship so imagine the anxiety ahead of his opener yesterday. And it was there for the galleries to see as his iron jagged low and left towards outof-bounds disaster.
But it pulled up short, Lowry scrambled a bogey with the help of a 10-foot putt, Tommy Fleetwood had missed a birdie chance from a similar distance, and the Irishman found calm. From there, Fleetwood never laid a glove on him and the rest of the field were scattered like litter in the wind.
There were occasional moments when some sort of fourth-round drama looked a remote possibility but, in truth, this was a drenched procession from some way out. When his lead became half a dozen with three holes to play, it was a parade rather than a finale.
A decade after winning the Irish Open as an amateur on a sodden afternoon 130 miles along the coast at Baltray, Lowry’s ascent to the golfing elite was now a formality.
And after Rory McIlroy had taken early leave and Graeme McDowell never really contended, there could not have been a more popular
winner. With the crowd, with golf fans the world over, with his fellow professionals.
As he took care of the last tap-in for his six-shot victory, Fleetwood – himself cutting an emotional post-round figure – stood on the apron of the green and applauded. The embrace between the two lasted longer than JB Holmes’ pre-shot routine.
As Lowry (left, cheered on by pals at his local club, Esker Hills) finally exited the stage, Brooks Koepka – the American with four Majors – was waiting with Open arms to welcome the son of an All-Ireland footballer to the club. Padraig Harrington and McDowell were there to do the same. And the messages from his peers soon swept social media like the Portrush weather. Those conditions made the final day a war of attrition, meaning there was never any danger of a springer posting the sort of outrageous score Lowry had recorded on day three (63). None of the top 25 names on the leaderboard at the start of the day carded an under-par score. Indeed, of that 25, only Tony Finau and Patrick Reed, both by a single shot, bettered Lowry’s one-over round. That is how gutsy, how accomplished, and how nerveless his winning effort was.
Those qualities had been on display over all four days but another trait has also shone through. His honesty.
Lowry admitted he was, golf-wise, at rockbottom only 12 months ago. And he admitted that even on the morning of this triumph – sitting on a four-shot lead but after only four hours sleep – he did not know if he was good enough, mentally strong enough, to win a Major. He does now.
It may not have been the most dramatic climax but, yet again, The Open came up with some story.