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At last.Alamy Stock Photo
HOME TOWN HERO
Rory McIlroy and his hometown: A tortured stew of identity politics
Holywood is the epitome of what the ‘Northern Ireland Dream’ could have been, if only they knew how to sell it.
5.28pm, 14 Apr 2025
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Declan Bogue
WHEN RORY MCILROY was just 3 or 4 years old, he would spend his Saturdays with a plastic club, chipping balls onto the 18th green of Holywood Golf Club.
Naturally, this being a golf club after all, that arrangement wasn’t to everyone’s taste.
“Some of the oul boys wouldn’t have been too happy with it. They would be saying, ‘That’s not on.’ You know what golf clubs are like,” says Seamus O’Connor, a former club captain of the club.
Seamus is also an uncle of my own. For that reason, even before Rory McIlroy appeared on ‘The Kelly Show’ and showcased his skill of chipping balls into a tumble dryer, the name of Rory McIlroy was being heard of in kitchens from Fermanagh to Down when he was still just 9.
When he was not much more than a toddler, Seamus and his late wife Margaret would sit and watch this child of Gerry and Rosie flake around the place. When he went to Primary School, Margaret was his first teacher. By the time he was in school uniform, the golf club had become a little less stuffy about this kid hanging around the place.
By the time he was 10, McIlroy was taking part in the club competitions. The level was decent. He hadn’t a handicap but they overlooked that.
Seamus regrets never actually getting a chance to play alongside him.
“I always found him down to earth and a normal lad like anybody else. But he was allowed to play on the competitions on a Saturday and was winning them when he was 10 or 11. He was playing against better golfers than me. He was something else, just different class and had things nobody else had, from an early age.
“He was out-playing men who thought they could play golf. He was playing the second hole, which was a par 4, and he was driving the ball to the green at that age.”
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From that 1999 appearance on ‘The Kelly Show’ – appointment viewing in a time of four watchable television stations while the RTÉ reception from Athlone was always a bit sketchy – he was public property.
But he’s never given a hint of having outgrown Holywood. He purchased some apartments along the seafront there and his parents still live in the same house out the Bangor Road.
The hero worship in the town is constantly off the charts. Skinners Bakery always has a new picture of him when he wins a significant trophy and first thing Monday they had a Green Jacket cupcakes flying out.
The talk is, because it’s only talk now anyway until everyone returns to Planet Earth, is that he will make a visit home to Holywood and pay a visit to his old golf club where they still reserve a parking space, into which my father insists on parking his car every time he’s there.
And as soon as his ball in the play-off dropped, the tiresome identity politics game that so many in the north like to play, flared up again. Perhaps I’m playing it myself by calling it ‘The North’ rather than Northern Ireland.
I suspect that Rory McIlroy wouldn’t give a ballix, if you pardon the expression.
Ok, Holywood: An Explainer.
It lies just east out of Belfast. While the Harland and Wolff cranes and a glimpse of Victorian Belfast’s economic might are not far from view, this is a world away from the working-class east Belfast shipyard communities that built the Titanic in 1909, as well as chasing Catholics, and what was called ‘Rotten Prods’ from their jobs in 1920.
The Catholics was plain old sectarianism. The ‘Rotten Prods’ were trade unionists seeking a fair wage for all; something that didn’t suit the Orange Orders and Masonic influences that wanted to operate their own systems of questionable merit.
Holywood is a few miles away, and yet a million miles away. A seaside town of around 12,000 souls, it is unashamedly, resolutely, proudly middle-class with the trappings; red-brick Victorian houses. A nice few eating houses and boutiques.
A pub called The Dirty Duck, another called The Maypole Bar – Ned’s to the locals that 22 years ago, flung anyone out onto the street that dared tried to use a mobile phone. Not sure if that policy is still in place. I dearly hope it is.
Rory McIlroy went to a Catholic Primary school and then to the mainly Protestant Sullivan Upper Grammar school, established in 1862, with a Gaelic motto of, ‘Lámh Foisdineach An Uachtar’, (with the gentle hand foremost).
The local GAA club, St Paul’s, is one that recruits from all religions and none.
Congratulations to our wee @McIlroyRory. He has done our town proud.
He looks great in Green, but we prefer him in yellow and blue.
We are so proud of our most famous resident.
Naomh Pól Abú🇺🇦 pic.twitter.com/r1JHvIdTIy— St Pauls GAC, Holywood (@naomh_pol) April 13, 2025
Sure, there are a couple of hardline Unionist enclaves, but nothing too intimidating. There are no Republican areas. It is not so much ‘Tiochfaidh ár lá’ as ‘Tiochfaidh ár lá-di-da.’
In short, this place is precisely the ‘Northern Ireland’ dream, if only they knew how to sell it.
McIlroy supports the Northern Ireland football team. He showed up for Carl Frampton fights. He’d go along to see the Belfast Giants. And yet he pledged himself to play golf for Ireland.
His uncle, Mickey McDonald, played Irish League soccer for Glenavon and Cliftonville and spent several years togging out for the Armagh Gaelic football team.
Identity politics? McIlroy is a stew of them.
Pretty much any sports stars in the north have been faced with this stuff; to answer queries of passport colour, are they sound on the national question, would they tog out for Ireland in the Olympics?
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And McIlroy greets all these like he greets apparently most things in life; conflicted, a little confused, agonising over the nuances.
It’s been a trait of his since he was a very young man, such public property that he had to release a statement about breaking up with his then girlfriend in 2011. How insane is the fame game when you have to put on record a statement about ending a relationship as a 21-year-old?
He also dithered over his future relationships, and ultimately decided against a marriage break-up which gladdened this non-cynical Old Romantic’s heart. And for a man from Ulster to call his daughter Poppy… Well, that takes some Main Character Energy.
Rory McIlroy with wife Erica and daughter Poppy.Alamy Stock Photo
Alamy Stock Photo
As much as he is wracked with vulnerability, it’s his indecision that people identify with. He’s like any of us that find ourselves walking into a room, striding with purpose to do, do, do…that thing…that…feck it anyway.
We love the tortured soul narrative.
Only you can’t imagine him torturing himself too much from now on.
Declan Bogue
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