Bill Elliott
Good to see Rory Mcilroy with a smile on his face to counterbalance the tears he shed at the end of a, mostly, woeful Ryder Cup performance.
His 20th PGA Tour victory – a hugely impressive list that includes four Majors – means he is just the third current US Tour player with at least 20 wins. Phil Mickelson and Dustin Johnson are the others. Tiger Woods has a lot more successes than any of them but we don’t know what the future holds for him yet.
Apparently, Mcilroy thought seriously about not playing pro golf again this year, so distressed was he at his poor play during the Whistling Straits thumping. This was an understandable response to his Wisconsin weariness, but it was also an extremely bad idea.
Whatever sport a man or woman plays, the only remedy to repair poor play is to grit your teeth and get on with what you’ve done so well for the majority of your life. Hanging around on the sport’s periphery feeling sorry for yourself can often mean you never actually make the return journey.
This even applies to you and me. Some of my best golf – this, by the way, is relative – has followed swiftly on from some of my worst, most laboured rounds. While the challenge offered to Rory in Las Vegas was on the benign side of tough, he still had to hold off not just a resurgent Rickie Fowler but 14 of the world’s top 20.
Afterwards, Rory said he had gone back to “just being me” and that he was delighted to find out that this appears to be plenty good enough. This, of course, is classic Mcilroy, both honest and just a wee bit daft. Of course just being himself is good enough. His vague pursuit of the trail set by Bryson Dechambeau was seriously ill-considered and certainly beyond my comprehension.
Hopefully he is properly over that foolishness and can get back on track when it comes to those weeks rather more significant than that Vegas caper. Fingers crossed he keeps his eyes focused on the road ahead. And, of course, remembers who and what he is. Few of you will have any problem remembering who and what Renton Laidlaw was. Renton’s death on October 12 added his name to the ever lengthening list of Covid victims, and though he had been in poor health, his passing still came as a shock.
A brilliant broadcaster and a gifted journalist, his warm Scottish tones introduced many thousands of listeners and viewers to the old game. As a former treasurer, chairman and president of the Association of Golf Writers his influence on the game stretched across several decades and almost as many continents via his books and his work for newspapers, magazines, BBC radio and the Golf Channel.
Renton was never happier than when on his way to a big tournament, never more comfortable than when sitting at a decent supper table with players and journalists. He helped many people along the way, always finding time for the new reporter or the young golfer. The day his death was announced my younger son James rang me to say how sorry he was to hear the news.
When James was a boy I took him to the occasional tournament. He always behaved while in the media centre as I worked but, even so, not everyone made him welcome. “Renton always found time to seek me out for a chat. He was really friendly and fun and made me feel comfortable. I still appreciate that,” James said.
Others will make more of Renton’s talent and his crazed enthusiasm for work but, for me, while that is impressive, James’ reflection will do as a testimony to a genuinely nice bloke who devoted so much of his life to the promotion of golf and golfers. We won’t see his like again. Rest in peace old friend.
“Renton Laidlaw’s warm Scottish tones introduced many thousands to golf”