Long before he donned the green jacket, I remember hearing Rory McIlroy say something surprising about memory.
It was early July 2024 at the Scottish Open, just weeks after his crushing defeat to Bryson DeChambeau at the US Open, and McIlroy was understandably feeling raw. His heart had just been ripped out in front of the entire golfing world, and thanks to the strange rhythms of the golf press, he was forced to talk about it every day between then and the end of the following week’s Open Championship.
Given the obvious tension between what McIlroy clearly didn’t want to talk about and what I was professionally obligated to ask, I expected McIlroy to be defensive or combative. But when the subject of the US Open came up, he was surprisingly candid. McIlroy talked about the disappointment of the loss, the decision to leave Pinehurst without saying a word, the few days he spent licking his wounds by disappearing into the ritual chaos of New York City. And then, almost out of nowhere, he admitted something funny: he never intended to watch that US Open again.
“I’ve rewatched so much of my first US Open win that I can’t remember the feelings I had,” McIlroy said. “To be honest, my memories of the US Open at Congressional come from TV, so I’m really trying to do a good job of not rewatching anything.”
McIlroy went on to say that he hoped to learn from his heartbreak at Pinehurst by reliving it himself, day after arduous day, until he gathered enough from the memories to ensure the outcome would never happen again. It was an admirable pursuit. But I was struck by the broader sentiment: If the man who ended the 2011 Congressional weekend with the trophy could see his memories of golf’s glory squashed into the dimensions of a television screen, how could I hope to be any different?
I guess this is a long way to admit that I never make plans to revisit the 2025 Masters. I witnessed it. I lived it. I missed a lot of the busy (and increasingly tortured) grounds of Augusta National. But I know better than McIlroy knew his approach at 15, what it felt like to see McIlroy finish the golf story of a generation – and I never want to lose that feeling.
When my editors first approached me with the assignment to write about the significance of 2025 in the greater Tao of golf, I snorted. Compared to the tectonic shifts of a state-funded rival golf league, the continued melodrama of leadership, ownership, and sweet, sweet money among golfers, and the fact that Tiger Woods hadn’t played a single event, I felt pretty comfortable admitting that not only did I not like the premise, I didn’t agree with it.
But then I thought about that Sunday afternoon in Augusta, and I remembered things related to golf Real The matter does not happen in a boardroom or in a press release, but in the memories that are too precious to forget. That’s what my great-great-great-grandchildren will remember about 2025 – and I’ll tell them the story straight from my own mind’s eye.
Why 2025 mattered: The Masters
Over the course of your life, you collect a lot of crap.
Like, for example, the clichés – dozens or even hundreds – that whisper about the magic of Sunday afternoon at Augusta National with the Masters on the line.
But it’s only when you actually are therewitnessing a truly magical Sunday afternoon at Augusta National that hits you like a semi-truck: all those clichés are absolutely and without a doubt true.
When people ask me about it Mine memory from the ground in Augusta on Sunday afternoon during the 2025 Masters, the day Rory McIlroy completed the career Grand Slam, that’s usually what I tell them.
1 standout Rory McIlroy Masters scene you missed on TV
By means of:
James Colgan
If you had spent the rest of your life working on the screenplay for the story of Rory McIlroy’s triumph, you could not have chosen a journey as brutal or as sickening as the story we witnessed at Augusta National. The swings – from a four-shot lead on the 10th hole to an inexplicable half wedge into Rae’s Creek on the 13th hole, and from the miracle moon ball on 15 until the unthinkable miss on 18 – were not credible. The ending was not believable. The tournament typified everything that is truly great about sport, which is that it is a story that is far better and far more real than any story concocted in the human mind. Sport is, in the most literal sense of the word, the ultimate drama.
That McIlroy’s victory not only overcame his decade-long demons, but did so in the place that had tortured him most? That he had to beat his old friend in Justin Rose and his enemy in Bryson DeChambeau? That it gave McIlroy an irrevocable place in golf’s immortality? Well, that was exactly the sauce that took McIlroy’s victory from great to historic.
Unfortunately, the balance of the universe claims that we probably won’t see any new Masters of 2025 levels of significance for some time. But we will always have 2025. Always.
Why 2025 Mattered, Reason 2: The Winds of Change
It was fitting that McIlroy’s win came just months before the PGA Tour he fought so hard to protect in the era when LIV hired new leadership.
In fact, Brian Rolapp’s hiring to the PGA Tour was one of three major golf leadership changes we’ve seen in 2025, joining Scott O’Neil atop LIV and Craig Kessler atop the LPGA (and not including new USGA President Kevin Hammer or new PGA of America CEO Derek Sprague).
Of course, it’s too early to tell exactly how these three men will perform, but it’s not a stretch to suggest that all three have the opportunity to become the most transformative leaders in the history of their respective tours.
For Kessler the question is: chicken or egg? The LPGA has been growing steadily for years, but not at the pace or excitement of other major women’s sports. Can Kessler inspire a new generation of stars to capture fans’ attention far beyond golf? And can he boost the Tour’s media presence significantly enough to change the results? And what comes first?
For O’Neil, the question is relevance. Can he lead the league to the major championship? And the profitability of TV rights? And the marketability of sponsorship? O’Neil has already introduced a new mindset for LIV compared to its competitors: complete, not competitive. The unanswered question? If LIV, as currently built, can do both.
And for Rolapp it’s about expansion. Much has been made about his NFL pedigree and his dreams of refocusing on the schedule, but his success on the job will be judged by his ability to grow the PGA Tour pie for everyone. He has the best player in the world under his roof and the deepest pool of stars of any tour in the world. Is that enough to deliver a big return on investment? If so, Rolapp may be remembered as the man who changed professional golf forever.
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