Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods vie for shot of redemption

GOLF-HAYWARD: McIlroy and Woods vie for Masters - scenesetter
GOLF-HAYWARD:



Rivals shake off demons to head crackerjack field for the most hotly-anticipated major in half a century

Paul Hayward reports from Augusta



Daniel Lewis is the steward who lifted the rope for Rory McIlroy to bend under when his tee shot at the 10th cracked off a tree and landed between cabins two and three 12 months ago. Lewis, who was on duty again yesterday, knows there are serpents in paradise.

"I saw Nick Faldo do the same," he said, beside a fairway that was still strewn with leaves and branches from Tuesday night's wild storm. But Faldo had been able to strike a three-iron towards the pin to escape the forest. Last year McIlroy had to play out sideways on his Sunday ride to oblivion.

Further up the 10th, another marshal, Christopher J Davies, said 15 people had already asked about McIlroy's ricochet into the cabins, 50 yards from the tee. The spot is a place of ghoulish fascination, like James Dean's mangled car. On a course that venerates perfection, the crowds are no less drawn than any other paying mob to failure.

For a story to really work, there has to be redemption, as every hack scriptwriter knows. So when the American golf trade wonders whether this is the most hotly anticipated major championship since the 1960 US Open at Cherry Hills, it must be because the two main protagonists have emerged from their own private tempests to establish this deliciously poised rivalry.

McIlroy, 22, came through one disastrous final Masters round that he started four shots clear and ended in a tie for 15th place. Tiger Woods leaves behind a 21/2-year hiatus. The sporting mind struggles to recall any world-class athlete reclaiming power after such a long spell in the desert. Muhammad Ali's refusal to accept the Vietnam draft and subsequent absence from the ring is one echo, but the circumstances are hardly identical.

Woods' swing, personal life, team and game all fell apart like a shamed Wall Street bank. McIlroy's torment was soon solved by an epic US Open win.

All week, though, he has been pressed on last year's collapse. He has been marched back to the scene of his errors and his psychological turmoil as if the Masters exists in a separate time-capsule distinct from the rest of golf (which it largely does).

But Woods-McIlroy is not the only game in town. The new Northern Irish darling of American galleries (they love his charm, his humility) is the meat in a rankings sandwich. The bread is Luke Donald, the No?1, and Lee Westwood, who had his own Woods-style dive. A former European No?1, Westwood plunged to 258 in the world before scrambling back to his present high perch.

Of those three Europeans, McIlroy is the only major winner, and only four world No?1s have won the 26 Masters since rankings were introduced in 1986. But forget numbers. The point is that Woods is resurgent, McIlroy the new poster boy and Westwood, Donald and Justin Rose are chasing a first major victory under challenge also from Hunter Mahan, the American ranked four whose time has come.

In the 1960 US Open at Cherry Hills, Arnold Palmer in his prime went into battle with a young Jack Nicklaus and Ben Hogan, who was at the end of his career.

Force today's cast into those costumes and Woods would dress as Palmer, McIlroy as Nicklaus and Phil Mickelson as Hogan.

Sports Illustrated speaks of this trio as 'the new Big Three'. Alan Shipnuck from that publication writes: "The big question was, 'Is there life after Tiger?' The answer looks like yes, because if Rory wins this Masters he goes to absolute superstar level. He'll be ahead of Tiger's pace and Jack's pace [for winning majors]. We'll stop the Tiger countdown and start a Rory countdown."

The convergence of all these threads justifies the extravagant claims being made for this year's tournament, in which Augusta National is forced to confront a few inconvenient realities. Ceding ground to technological change, Billy Payne, the chairman, said yesterday that "even beauty and sense of place can be recreated on a digital device", such as a tablet computer.

The borderline obsessive compulsive disorder with which this course is arranged precludes anything as useful as Twitter or even a small earpiece radio. It excludes women, too, from being members. During unusually fierce exchanges with the media over Augusta's all-male complexion Payne was asked by a reporter: "What should I tell my daughters?" His cold reply: "I don't know your daughters." While excluding half the world's population from ever wearing a green jacket, Payne also fretted out loud about "declining participation" across the sport - a real worry for the industry, in this time of collapsing projects. But the real purpose of the Masters is to keep things as they are, from the radiance of the flora and fauna to the sanctity of the golf, which continues to resist commercialisation.

A crackerjack of a field is the best asset golf could have. The 'patron' who administered hydrogen peroxide to his dog to make him vomit back up the Masters tickets he had swallowed is emblematic of the fervour this tournament generates. The passes were recovered, with no damage to the canine, and the relieved customer joined the dawn chorus who are welcomed to Augusta with smiles and greetings but must obey the rules at all times.

Satisfyingly, on the course, hot steaks abound. Any major golf championship can line up CVs and reputations but the beauty of this one is that almost all the major candidates are in red-hot form. Donald tees off on the back of his Transitions Championship win, McIlroy has finished outside the top 10 only once since last year's PGA and Mahan won the Shell Houston Open on Sunday. Donald, remember, headed both the PGA and European money lists last year.

This Magnolia Lane of talent sets out in a Ryder Cup year, too, at a time when Ernie Els, one of Woods's old victims, could neither qualify nor secure an invitation for this tournament. If the 14-time major winning Woods crushed one generation he is going to have to do it all again to players who grew up outside his long shadow.

Where McIlroy played pinball in the trees and cabins at the 10th a year ago, they might need to put a plaque to deal with all the voyeuristic interest. Linger there with the marshals and you start to understand the music of chance.

Had the ball taken the Faldo route, McIlroy might have recovered his senses and his round. Instead it took a random, vicious deflection, and exposed the young author of the shot to humiliation, which always lurks in these Georgia pines. As Woods said on Tuesday, nobody glides to Masters victory, despite the sylvan setting. It has to be a fight.

McIlroy laughs about it now - goes along with the joke - because he knows it is the kind of history that cannot harm him as he sets off at 6.42pm London time with Angel Cabrera and Bubba Watson. Woods may not be able to say the same about his own multiple troubles, which flashed across his life like the luminous storm of Tuesday night, casting light into the darkest areas.