THE FIGHTER RORY MCILROY GOES THE DISTANCE

SUNDAYS AT MAJORS ARE LIKE TITLE FIGHTS, without the obvious blood.

- By Michael Bamberger

Now and again, the champ ducks under the ropes unscratched—Tyson over Spinks in 91 seconds, that sort of thing. Converting such lopsidedness to golf: Tiger, at the 2000 U.S. Open at Pebble, at age 24, when he won by 15; Rory, at the 2011 Open at Congressional, newly 22 and winning by eight. (They were both too young to appreciate how hard it all is.) More often, though, by the final bell of a golf championship, there will be blood. If you’re contending, you’re gonna get hit. If you win, you're gonna clock somebody. Some of the hits might be self-inflicted. Golf is weird that way. For everybody but the winner, Sunday’s pain can be chronic.

These acts of violence are in plain view, through screens, over rope lines, inside them. Players, caddies, broadcasters, fans—everybody’s staring when a contending golfer collapses to the ground, in spirit if not in fact. You can almost hear Howard Cosell: Down goes ! Rory McIlroy has filled that blank often.

The round-shouldered Irishman, now 36, has endured all manner of fourth-round trauma, including four seconds in majors. More than once we’ve wondered: Can he get off the mat again?

This month at Oakmont, McIlroy will get his 14th chance to win his second U.S. Open. You're tempted to say he’s playing with house money, now that he has the career professional Grand Slam. Nope. The pain that visited him a year ago, in a Pinehurst steam bath, didn’t just evaporate over the past 12 months, despite his grand successes since then. That’s not how it works. Ouija in Arnold to your next séance and he’ll tell ya. He’ll start with Oakmont '62 and from there he’ll be off to the races. Late in life, Palmer was still talking about Winged Foot '74. Conjure his foghorn voice: Could have won, with even par on Sunday. The shelf life of almost at a major is forever.