Skip to contents
Golf

Rory McIlroy Smote His Own Father With A Golf Shot

Rory McIlroy's father reacts to being struck by his own son's second shot on the 7th hole of the Masters
Screenshot via masters.com/Illustration by Albert Burneko

Rory McIlroy drove his tee shot into a stand of trees left of the fairway on the 450-yard, par-four seventh hole at the Masters today, and wound up behind a tree. He’d just bogeyed two holes in a row and was already two over par for the day. To get back on track for the hole and for the tournament, the right-hander would need to hit a draw shot, out from under the foliage of the tree and then hooking back toward the left, toward the green. But McIlroy was on a hunt more primal than that which could be satisfied by a mere golf score. He was hunting his own goddamn father.

That’s his fuckin’ dad, Gerry McIlroy, that he drilled with that golf shot! From over 140 yards away!

Deep inside, every man seeks to destroy his father and supplant him; this, far more so than the Masters tournament, is the true “tradition like no other.” For most, in the modern world with its “laws,” this quest must take metaphorical or symbolic form: becoming a superior husband and father, surpassing his professional achievements, wiping out the old bear’s Tetris high score on the Nintendo you’ve preserved for 30 years for that exact purpose, taking over Thanksgiving hosting duties, etc. Developing one’s own standard of what it means to be a good man, rather than being harangued through life by a disappointed internal Dad Voice. Few have the dexterity, the touch, the form, the focus, the sheer cold-blooded resolve to snipe the miserable bastard with a golf shot from 140 yards away, in front of hundreds of live witnesses and a television audience of perhaps millions. Imagine the conflicted feelings of the elder McIlroy, to be proud of your son for the fine golf skills, not to mention the icy clarity of purpose, on display in his open attempt at murdering you once and for all with the whole world watching. Great shot, son! A few feet higher and I’d have a Titleist where my eyeball used to be. There’s no accounting for wind, you know.

It would demean this act to reduce it to mere golf, but McIlroy probably should have been awarded an eagle for the hole. Some consultation of the rules may be in order.