A Blog About The Time Rory McIlroy Ruined The Masters Drinking Game

That video starts on the 10th tee with Rory holding a 1-stroke lead (-11) over The 2011 Masters field. What follows over the next few holes may simply be described as unbelievable. A day that began with a 4-stroke lead (-12) will finish with him outside the final top-10 as he goes triple-bogey-double to start the back nine. And on record I think it's still very difficult to watch every single one of these shots. Just so fucking awkward to see Rory play like your brother-in-law. 

But it was also notable to me because it marked a year where my buddies and I played The Masters drinking game. Each guy gets 18 beers. You start when the leader tees off in the last group. You get one beer per hole and follow along with the leader. You record scores for each hole/beer: eagle if you finish your beer before the 2nd shot, birdie before the 3rd, par before the 4th, bogey after they finish the hole, double bogey if it carries into the next hole and of course, no triple bogies. 

Example: Rory tees off on 1, you chug your beer before his approach shot. You make eagle while Rory makes par. You then open your 2nd beer after his next tee shot, preferably on impact. It's a par 5 so you got time. You end up finishing your beer before he approaches his 3rd shot in a greenside bunker. That's good for a birdie so you are now at -3. Like playing golf, you can sense the par 5's are your scoring holes and the par 3's are where you need to be smart. It's pretty straightforward. 

That is of course assuming that the cameras are actually following the last group. Heading into the day with a 4-shot lead there was no way we'd miss a single one of Rory's shots. Even if he lost, you'd imagine he's in some kind of contention. That's why you're in the last group. 

But then Rory went ahead and gave up 6 strokes on 10-12. By the time he got to the 13th tee, CBS was decidedly ready to pull the plug on his coverage. It was like Old Yeller meeting Jean Van de Velde in real time. This is made clear by the above vide: CBS broadcasted over 9 minutes of Rory shots on his first 12 holes. The remaining 6 captured less than 50 seconds. 

Sad story for Rory but even worse situation for the Masters drinking game because you're on pace with the leader. You're already 12 beers deep and now you're not even in contention. When Rory went down, we all went down. You've never seen a room full of 20-something bros be more confused as we tried to get into the 14th-hole. Should we pull up Gametracker? Why is Jim Nantz doing this to us? We went absolutely fucking nuts went they cut to him on the 15th green. And again on 18 when he finished with 80. Our match was torched but I've been tied to Rory's fate ever since. He says he grew up in that meltdown and learned a lot about himself, but I'd argue I learned just as much. 

Those were good times. 

But probably not as good as the time Rory went out Saturday night in Chicago when Medinah hosted the Ryder Cup in 2012. The Europeans were getting smoked so he went out Saturday and put the dog on. There's no chance of winning so who gives a fuck? Certainly not Rory so he gets loaded so bad that he almost misses his 11:20 tee time. ELEVEN TWENTY. It takes a police escort to get him to the tee box on time. Maybe one of the most absurd visuals in the local sports scene of recent memory: 

Naturally he takes a couple practice swings then proceeds to beat Keegan Bradley 2&1. And even more naturally, he closed the match on the par-3 17th, about 40 feet from my fucking face as I sat first row with a couple meathead buddies. Never in my life have I hated yet respected an athlete as much as I did Rory McIlroy in that moment. Imagine ripping up Clark street until 4am then getting a state trooper to take you to Medinah to secure a global championship for your continent COLD TURKEY. Tell me I'm wrong but those kind of power moves belong in a green jacket. 

Good luck this weekend to the Northern Irishman. He's my #2 non American behind Louis Oosthuizen. 

That's a different blog. 

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