The opening day of the Irish Open was one for the sickos

Well, how did you enjoy that? The opening day at Doonbeg was a sublime circus.

Rory McIlroy after putting on the 18th green during day one of the Amgen Irish Open Golf Championship at Doonbeg. Pic: Brendan Moran/Sportsfile

Rory McIlroy hadn’t even completed a hole before the first real delay took hold. Brooks Koepka’s approach on the first had skewed way left, sending the entire playing group scrambling up a dune in search. Exploring the hill was a combined 11 majors, and Bob MacIntyre.

Introduced as both defending champion and the Masters champion, McIlroy walked onto the first tee last and hit first. Koepka eventually kicked off with a seven and off they trudged for a marathon round filled with rulings, delays and friction.

Well, how did you enjoy that? The opening day of the Irish Open was a sublime circus. Groups crawled around a logjammed links course, battling wind, rain, and waning light. What ought to have been a scoring haven turned delightfully wild.

This is the central conflict modern tournament organisers are trying to navigate. A low-scoring turkey shoot can quickly become tedious. Nobody craves routine excellence; isn’t unpredictability the spice of life. At the same time, the setup cannot cross into absurdity or leave players genuinely aggrieved.

Take Shinnecock Hills Golf Club for the US Open earlier this year: organisers deliberately pulled levers to ensure playing conditions did not mirror previous visits. They syringed the putting surfaces and erred on the side of caution with pin locations. In a high-stakes stare-off, the hosts blinked.

Now, it would be unreasonable to expect Doonbeg to engineer severely challenging conditions while this tournament is still trying to attract as broad a field as possible. They need big names to make the spectacle.

At the same time, watching them carve up wide fairways and soft greens isn’t particularly thrilling either. It is in the rough and misery that golf really speaks to the people. That is how multi-millionaires become more relatable.

For a certain cohort, that is the core allure. Shane Lowry threatening to slam his driver into the turf after pulling his tee shot left on the par-5 10th; Rory McIlroy catching the lip of a bunker on 13 only to watch his ball agonisingly roll back into the sand, then nearly repeating the feat moments later; Jon Rahm arguing furiously with a rules official over whether the gale was causing his ball to move, these are the currencies of the trade. His profanity-laced outburst forced television broadcasters into immediate apologies. What a wonder. These are the moments that make spectators nod and declare: One of us.

It didn’t help that everyone was on edge on Thursday. Accreditations beside the first tee were inspected meticulously and there were attempts to restrict behind-the-ropes access.

The logjams only granted more time for crowd inspections, with security personnel stationed at key vantage points calling out for reinforcements. McIlroy’s bodyguard was asked to sign a souvenir flag by an eager spectator alongside the second – “Can you sign this please? I always see you on TV!” – but remained fixated on the task at hand.

At the fourth, Rahm elected to pass the time by discussing fight-ending techniques with Patrick Reed, complete with references to Jon Jones and the mechanics of eye pokes. The heel of the Spaniard’s shoes was stitched with a mantra: Vamos. Hardly an attainable state of mind in these elements. Everyone has a plan until they get hit in the face and this relentless wind was intent on throwing some haymakers.

Nearby, spectating crowds found their own way to keep themselves occupied. Children slid head-first down steep dunes in a makeshift human skeleton race. Limerick hurling captain Cian Lynch offered a masterclass in his leadership abilities with vocal encouragement for any passing player: “Gwan Jon, boy.” The out-and-back layout only compounded the chaos. Waterford golfer Seamus Power spoke of getting to the 10th tee struck by confusion, having spent the front nine hitting draws with a heavy wind sweeping off the sea on his left.

“All of a sudden you turn and get to 10, you almost don’t know what to do.” 

Yet pure skill and craft were still rewarded. On the elevated 14th tee, both of Lowry’s playing partners were bewildered by a treacherous pin position. From the crest of the hill, with the beach stretching endlessly along the right, they bailed out too far left and watched their balls slide down into a severe collection area.

The 2009 champion, meanwhile, struck a gorgeous low punch. He then marched up to make a nine-footer and his fifth birdie of the day. “A 120 8-iron,” he said afterwards with a smile. “That was a good shot.

“I’m doing this nearly 20 years at this stage. You get this. You get slow rounds of golf. You get hold-ups on par 5s. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a call-through on a par 5 where the group in front waits for the group behind to hit off.

“I think there was a long ruling; that was the issue there. I hit two full shots in an hour, which is mad. I don’t think I have ever done that before, but I feel like I did a good job of staying in my own lane and being myself.” 

The wind gave plenty, but it took too much in terms of its impact on the pace. Even still, eventually the gridlock will ease. Officials are hopeful Thursday’s delays won’t recur later in the week as the gales begin to die down. The scoring will drift toward double digits. Waterproofs won’t face the same stern examinations of their integrity from the wind.

But for one afternoon, the sickos had their way.