Demons banished, now to rack up the titles like Tiger

Glory came almost 3,900 days since Mcllroy’s last major title and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, writes Jim White

- Jim White

Sunday night was one of those moments only sport can deliver. When Rory McIlroy beat Justin Rose in a play-off for the Masters, it was the culmination of five hours of unrelenting drama, as the pair played the round of their lives across Augusta’s gruelling 18 holes. This was McIlroy, so inevitably, his prospects had rollercoastered up and down all evening.

What television it made as we watched, at times from behind the sofa, him serving up his characteristic mix of sumptuous shots and the kind of logic-defying, nerve-shredding errors that have so often undermined his genius at the last. And what made this so compelling was that, even when McIlroy’s brilliance appeared to have made him unassailable, Rose stuck clam-like to his coattails: always there, calm, dignified, gentlemanly.

Perhaps more to the point, as fortunes shifted as the two chased each other’s scores to the last, this was a contest in which nobody wanted to pick sides. What made this so unmissable was that these were not just both golfers of the highest calibre, both worthy champions, they were both the most honourable of men. There was no goodie against baddie in this narrative: both contenders more than deserved to win.

No surprise then that, in its conclusion, as a blubbing McIlroy first sank to his knees, then celebrated the end of a 3,898-day drought since his last major title by embracing Rose in a bear hug of emotion, this was a contest that provided an exemplar of sportsmanship.

Plus, in the vanquished Englishman’s generous, avuncular response, the very definition of magnanimity.