Now that we have all recovered from Kenny Perry's on course torture and off course triumph - oh Lord, make us as full of grace, but not just yet - I would beg to draw my esteemed readers' attention to the success of the Irish contingent at Augusta.
I know what you're going to say: Harrington didn't too well. In fact, he had a moving time, especially at the fifteenth and the odd seven or three isn't too pretty but think on for a moment: twenty, no ten years ago, we'd have been exceeding joyous just to have one Irishman at the tournament, never mind top fifteen, or thirty or whatever. And now we have three.
And whilst much of the attention was focussed on our three majors winner and on young Rory McIlroy's dramatic debut, it may have escaped your attention that this neck of the woods produced the leading European, Graeme McDowell.
No sandy exploits for GMac. No, sir. No appearances before the Men (in Green Jackets - must be a movie lurking in there somewhere); no swimming in Rae's Creek: just a steady improvement to finish sixteenth, building quietly upon his Ryder Cup debut and Scottish Open wins in 2008. In fact, it's an irony that his surname causes more controversy than his behaviour. Outside Northern Ireland, it's McDowell as in "owl" or as in "fuel" but at home it's McDowell as in "old".
Wee Mac, on the other hand, has relatively few problems with his surname - or anything else for that matter - though the starter at Augusta put the stress on the "El", rather than the "roy", which is where the Irish language would naturally place it. Either which way, El Roy may not be too far off - given a fair wind and no major personal hiccups, the young man will win Northern Ireland's first or second major since Fred Daly at Hoylake in 1947. Not the king yet, but certainly the first in line. And no, I don't think he's the young pretender.
But what I really like about these two is that, for all their success, the feet are firmly on the floor. GMac went straight from winning the NCAA to the European tour and won his fourth event (and called back to open the bar at his home club of Rathmore, less posh club in Portrush) but then had to adjust to the grind of the tour. And grind he has, en route buying his parents a nice house by way of thanks for all their support.
Wee Mac takes no head staggers either. When home, he still collects his girl friend from school and listens to what his folks and his manager teach him about correct behaviour. Any aberrations are as swiftly cleared as his belated return to Augusta to watch the video. No tall poppies there, then. It's an Irish thing - Padraig Harrington had about 29 second places before he made the breakthrough and he worked constantly and intelligently to get there.
So no Big Macs yet, at least not in the persona department. But it's only a matter of time before one of them gets there. Watch this space.
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