At 5.52pm on Wednesday a curtain parted at one end of the reception room in Rathmore Golf Club and Graeme McDowell walked into the long, loud embrace of home. On his shirt the top two buttons were undone and over his left ear a small peninsula of hair jutted out from under his cap. The intense timetable of being US Open champion had rinsed the colour from his face but not the glow of three-day-old elation. He raised the cup one more time for photographers and the cheers raised the roof.
For all the places McDowell has been in the world of golf Portrush has always been the anchor in his life. He has tried basing himself in Cardiff, Manchester and London but ultimately he surrendered to the pull of Antrim’s north coast. Their pride in him is a matter of public display. Just inside the front door Rathmore’s trophy cabinet contains a shrine to McDowell’s career: photographs and relics from his amateur days, trophies from his professional triumphs.
But for all their faith in him did they believe he could be a major champion? Did he believe it? For four days on the west coast of America McDowell searched in himself for the answer to that question. In his Friday press conference as the second round leader McDowell pitched his responses in a way that countered his image as an accidental tourist in this region of the leaderboard.
Were people convinced? Each evening during the tournament there was an on-line discussion between some of the senior golf writers and commentators in America. On Friday night they dismissed McDowell. They knew he had led a major championship once before, at the British Open, but he was just passing through — and, at Pebble Beach, they expected him to leave the stage any minute. One of the commentators described him as “the rabbit in a marathon.”
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Was McDowell convinced? That process didn’t start just last week or this year but at the US Open it reached a critical phase. He never had this chance before; he had it now. On Saturday he struggled badly with that realisation. His early morning tee-time on Friday and his late afternoon slot on Saturday were separated by 33 hours and for most of that time he carried the load of his position and the burden of his dreams. He stepped out of the shower shortly after midday on Saturday and the enormity of this opportunity suddenly slapped him in the face. The possibilities, though, were clear to everyone around him. On Friday his manager Conor Ridge quietly engaged a local media agency in case his client won. They devised a schedule for Monday and Tuesday and had a cavalcade of jeeps and police escorts on cue for the champion’s various engagements around LA. Ridge, though, shared none of these plans with McDowell. The golfer had enough on his mind.
On the driving range, about 40 minutes before his 3.50pm start time, he turned to his caddy Kenny Comboy, his dad Ken, and Ridge. “You know what?” he said. “You work all your life for something like this, you work so hard. It’s your ultimate goal, your ultimate dream. You do all you can to get yourself into a position like this. But when you get there, it’s bloody scary.”
More than all the other majors, the US Open is a mental challenge. Regardless of the venue there are fewer birdie holes to ease your mind and the terror of double bogey is everywhere. Earlier this season McDowell started working with the sports psychologist Bob Rotella who had been instrumental in Padraig Harrington’s three major victories but last week he walked without that crutch.
“Bob was around if I needed him,” says McDowell. “I spoke to him early in the week and told him that I was in a calm place with my golf. I didn’t know what it was or how to explain it but when I won in Wales [three weeks ago] I was in this weird place. It was this bubble I was in. There was no point in talking about it so I said, ‘If I need you I’ll give you a shout’.
“The Thursday beat me up a bit because I shot five birdies and only finished up level par. I came off the course a bit frustrated and my caddy was giving me crap, saying it was a US Open and not to get frustrated and be patient. I promised myself from then for the rest of the week that I would stay focused and patient.”
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When they reflected on last week’s win their minds kept returning to Wales. McDowell shot 16 birdies on the weekend to streak through the field and take his sixth victory on the European Tour but there was no giddiness in their joy that evening. For the places they wanted to reach European Tour wins could no longer be a destination in themselves.
“We talked that night after he won [in Wales],” says Ridge, “and I said, ‘I don’t know about you but this doesn’t feel like when you won in Loch Lomond [the 2008 Scottish Open]. It doesn’t feel like any of the other wins when we were high-fiving each other and thinking it was unbelievable. This really feels like a springboard’. He said, ‘That’s exactly how it feels. I’m delighted to win but this is the start of something. I’m in the form of my life’.”
At Pebble Beach, though, the strain on his game and on his mind was like nothing he had experienced before. In the third round he lost the rhythm in his swing, he was snatching at the ball and struggling off the tee. When he missed the cut at the Masters earlier in the year he blamed his short game and expressed the belief that it was holding him back; last Saturday his short game kept him in the tournament. That day was simply about survival. While his playing partner Dustin Johnson ripped up the course McDowell had to work like a dog for a round of level par. That wasn’t the day he won the title but it was the day when he refused to lose it.
“When we walked off the course I could see the look of disappointment on his face,” says Comboy. “I had a good chat to him. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘you’ve hit 71 in the last group in a major on a very difficult golf course. Dustin Johnson shot maybe one of the best rounds of golf in US Open history and made you look average but you’re right where you want to be. He’s got to sleep on being leader. He’s going to lift the trophy a thousand times in his sleep tonight’.”
By the third hole on Sunday Johnson had handed McDowell back the lead. His double bogey on that hole took about 20 minutes to play out and in that time McDowell had a clear view of Tiger Woods making a mess of the fourth. “It probably just settled him down a little bit,” says Comboy. “He thought, ‘Everyone is struggling here. If I just hang in here you never know’.”
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In the aftermath the American media focused on the big names who had cocked up: Woods, Ernie Els, Phil Mickelson, Johnson. In NBC’s coverage on Saturday evening and early on Sunday Woods and Johnson were the only players in focus. McDowell? He was the snowman left out in the sun: any minute now he’d melt.
It has been pointed out that McDowell’s closing 74 was the highest final round total by a US Open winner in 25 years, that he only registered two birdies in his last 34 holes, that his victory didn’t have a signature shot like Mickelson’s brilliant six-iron from the pine straw at Augusta.
Ultimately, though, all of that is immaterial. When the championship was on the line nobody held it together better than McDowell. The opportunities to crack were presented to him just like they were to all the others. He didn’t need to take the course apart; the only battle he needed to win was with himself.
“I went out on Sunday with the attitude that this wasn’t a last chance saloon for me, this wasn’t my last chance of winning a major championship. I guess I might have been kidding myself but these are the things you tell yourself. It’s amazing the internal debates. You’re out there for five hours and you’re debating with yourself all day long. Trevor Immelman, YE Yang, Lucas Glover — guys like that popped into my head just to reinforce the fact that I could win my first major that day.”
Did he know where he stood? In the final round in Wales McDowell and Comboy agreed that they would ignore the leaderboard — until McDowell couldn’t stand it any longer and begged for an update with five holes left. On Sunday at Pebble Beach he didn’t wait that long. All the way down the stretch he coped with the knowledge that the US Open was his to lose.
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“I didn’t look at the leaderboard until 11. There was one right in my eye-line as I walked off the 11th tee box. I had just bogeyed nine and 10 and my head was starting to spin a bit and I needed to know where I was. It was a weird day because I stayed very controlled. I didn’t do anything outrageous. I didn’t hole any bombs — any 25 or 30-footers — I didn’t stiff any shots. I played US Open golf, hit fairways and greens, took my two putts and ran. When I holed the winning putt I didn’t get this flood of emotion because I was so controlled.
“I said to my caddy walking up the 13th, ‘Is it wrong that I want this to be over? I’m just counting down the holes’. He said, ‘Man, I’ve been counting down the holes all day’. You dream of being in that scenario, you really do, but it’s scary. You do have that fear of failure — no doubt about it. I’d be wrong if I didn’t admit that I was scared of failing. Was I scared of winning? I don’t know. My caddy asked me could I handle the other part — ‘Can you handle what comes with winning the US Open?’ I said, ‘Let’s find out’.”
For McDowell, that is the next place on his journey.