Rory McIlroy should be grateful for Bobby Jones’ 1930 grand slam

• Rory McIlroy’s Masters win brought him immense relief, comparable to Bobby Jones’s relief in 1930.
• Jones’s success and subsequent fame likely contributed to the creation of Augusta National and the Masters Tournament.

In terms of a single golfer’s singular goal, Rory McIlroy’s Masters win delivered the biggest relief a golfing giant has felt in 95 years.

And you can make a case for this: If the 1930 stress-reliever didn’t come off, there may never have been a Masters around for Rory to win.

Rory didn’t have to say it because we’d all seen it when that final putt dropped, but he said it anyway.

“It was all relief. There wasn’t much joy in that reaction. It was all relief.”

A ROUND AT AUGUSTA: So, you wanna play Augusta National? Let’s negotiate the terms

But if it had gone wrong, Rory would be back next year, and the next, to keep trying to complete his career grand slam. For Bobby Jones in 1930, it was now or never, even at just 28 years old.

That year’s schedule lined up with the peak of his unmatched ability, and he committed fully to preparing for an effort to win both national amateurs and Opens (British and U.S.) over the course of the same summer. 

And then that would be it. To continue beyond that quite literally could’ve killed him — such was the mental and physical toll he put himself through during the week of a national championship. He was an old 28.

Morning pulls of corn whisky would settle the early nerves, and in the Amateur Championships, where he often had both morning and afternoon matches, the mid-day break included a glass of whisky and the only sustenance his quaking gut could handle — plain chicken on white bread.

He also smoked. A lot, particularly during a tournament week.

Bobby Jones’ triumphant yet torturous summer of 1930

The 1930 Walker Cup championship was played in England, which logistically made it convenient for Jones to make the trip and then stick around to play his fourth British Open and third Amateur that June. Stroke-play tournaments against the professionals allowed him to prove his greatness against the world’s best, but they also exacted the biggest pounds of flesh.

Flash back nine-plus decades from Rory’s exhausted collapse to the turf on 18, and you find yesteryear’s version of the same emotional flux.

“This tournament has taken more out of me than any other I ever played in,” Jones told companions after the final round. “It’s quite too thick for me. I feel that I’m not strong enough to play in another one.”

Bernard Darwin, the great golf chronicler of that time (or any other, frankly), was there that afternoon and summed it up in his unique manner.

“Seeing him nearly past speech, I thought that the time had come to call a halt. This game could not much longer be worth such an agonizing candle.”

The trip back across the Atlantic must’ve stilled Jones’ roiling waters, because he resumed the pursuit later in the summer, except there was no “grand slam” in those days. 

There were three professional majors (both Opens, which were “open” to amateurs, and the young PGA Championship, strictly for professionals), and the crazy thought of any amateur winning the four national championships seemed so preposterous, it was given a preposterous name: The Impregnable Quadrilateral.

In July’s U.S. Open, played at Interlachen in Minnesota, record-breaking temps soared to 100 and beyond. No sweat-wicking attire in those days, by the way, though Bobby did undo the tie — kind of. The sweat had cinched the knot so tight, it had to be cut from his collar.

He took control early during Saturday’s 36-hole final day and eventually won by two, then got a 10-week break before completing his championship sweep in the U.S. Amateur at Merion, outside Philadelphia. 

He was never seriously challenged in the match-play rounds, ending the 36-hole final after 11 holes of the second round – an 8-and-7 victory. But still, enough was enough, and soon he had a Warner Brothers deal and was making instructional films and big, big money.

Would we have a Masters if Bobby Jones had ‘almost’ won ’em all?

If you’ve followed golf in any way, you know what else came next. Jones found a perfect piece of property in Augusta, Ga., and even during the depths of the Great Depression, he found enough backing to build Augusta National and, in 1934, began hosting an annual golf tournament.

We’ll obviously never know if all that was only made possible by his early version of a grand slam. He was already big. But the sweep elevated his status to an even higher level, and additional fame from the Warner Brothers films couldn’t have hurt. 

Would he have found enough investors, particularly in the early 1930s, if he’d nearly won all four majors? Would there have been a Masters Tournament to torment Rory McIlroy (and many others) all these years?

It’s tempting to say it’s a question worth pondering, but Bobby Jones himself would suggest you’re wasting your time.

His favored form of Christianity led him to believe heavily in predetermination — your script has been written on high, so buckle up for the ride. Sometimes he obviously suggested it wasn’t worth the pressure he heaped upon himself, but in the end, he knew it must’ve been in the cards all along. 

Just as maybe it was always Rory’s destiny. If so, someone up there is in love with plot twists. 

— Email Ken Willis at ken.willis@news-jrnl.com