In his own sport and era, McIlroy also has Tiger Woods as the ultimate example of how the mega-fame and wealth that come with a truckload of major golf titles can cost a man his soul.
From his earliest days as a kid who impressed everyone with both his game and his polite, grounded demeanor until now, as golf’s new post-Woods messiah, McIlroy has never shown hints of having the same human flaws and frailties that derailed Best and the 14-time major winner whose golfing records he has started to obliterate.
Quite the opposite. As far as anyone on the outside can really know these things, McIlroy’s definition of a good time isn’t losing himself with porn stars but going home to family, friends and dogs Theo and Gus.
Woods had his superyacht, “Privacy.’’ McIlroy, in contrast, turned up unannounced this year to watch his former school, Sullivan Upper, win the final of a Northern Ireland rugby competition for under-15s. He reminded himself that golf isn’t everything by going before the U.S. Open to the poverty and disaster-ravaged Caribbean island nation of Haiti, where his prowess with irons and a driver don’t mean a lot.
McIlroy enjoys a night out with friends in Belfast, sometimes tweets about knocking back fiery cocktails and posted a photo of himself draining a drink from his U.S. Open trophy.
But he’s also the type of guy who, when asked by an acquaintance to autograph a shirt for a fundraising auction, hopped into his car to deliver it in person, who donated a wad of money to fix up facilities for juniors at the club outside Belfast where he learned golf as a kid and who didn’t recoil when he drove to another local club last year to practice only to find hordes of youngsters clamoring for his attention and handouts.
