The Open 2019: Danny Willett banishes the darkness to make hay in the Portrush sunshine and move into play
Former Masters champion has endured three harrowing years since his crowning glory but on Saturday rekindled his very best to put himself into play on Open Sunday
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Your support makes all the difference.Late on Wednesday evening, Danny Willett sat in the Neptune and Prawn restaurant at the heart of Portrush’s cramped harbour, staring out over the blue of the Irish Sea with little hope or expectation of seeing claret.
Three days later, he rolled back to before his “darkest times” and pulled in the Open leaders from the horizon with a spectacular six-under-par round of 65 that fell just two inches on the low side of a course record.
Three years after becoming an unlikely Masters Champion, the Englishman has endured and overcome a fall from grace that bled into thoughts of turning his back on the game altogether, the dismantling of his team and a perennial pain in his back that left him taking Paracetamol before every round. Any aspirations of success steadily ebbed away and the endless search to rediscover his love of the sport brought little relief.
So when Willett tapped-in his winning putt at last year’s season-ending DP Tour World Championship, he was overwhelmed by emotion unlike anything he’d ever let seep out in public before – outmatching even that of when he clinched victory at Augusta. It is, after all, how you handle the setbacks that define you. 953 days after donning the Green Jacket, he cried on that green and finally, there, he shook off the helpless feeling that had enveloped one of England’s best golfers and stranded him out of mind.
After battling feelings of unworthiness, rewatching YouTube videos of his final round at Augusta and convincing himself he has a rightful seat at the Champions Dinner table, Willett learned the art of obscuring the outside noise. The results since the cathartic release of Dubai last November has been far from steady – he has missed six of 14 cuts so far this year – but a tied-12th finish at the US Open last month heralded his best finish at a major since 2016.
“There have been many times [when I didn’t think I’d be able to come back],” he admitted after walking off the 18th green. “We’re not going back there now. That was a long time ago. Those were some dark, dark moments.”
So, perhaps then, it was the bliss of sangfroid, learnt in the most trying fashion, that helped him to skyrocket to within reach of the leaders on a still Saturday at Portrush. And, after seeing surely the darkest of what will come as a professional and braving the barracking of those who labelled him with sport’s most disparaging slur – a fluke – he carried himself with such impressive calm.
A four-under-par 67 recovered the costly mistakes of his opening round to haul himself over the cutline on Friday, and he continued that same vein of form into the weekend as four birdies in 12 holes pushed him inside the top-10. He swung with freedom, smiled to the galleries and soaked up the sunshine. On the 10th, he even benefitted from a rare stroke of luck that has otherwise deserted him for so long when his ball was spat back towards the pin by the bristling grass bordering the green. A bogeyless and unerringly straight run home followed, adding another birdie on 17 before the chance to clinch a course record fell away on the last.
“We’re in a good place now, I’ve said it for the best part of 12 months now,” he continued. “Results aren’t always what you want them to be, but things are inevitable as to when you’re going to win again. It might be this week, it might be next week, it might be in six months. You don’t know but there are enough good things in [my game] which is a nice feeling and gives you a little bit of sunlight at the end of it.”
A six-under-par 65 was second-best only to a mercurial Shane Lowry on Saturday, and the coming together of Willett’s most complete performances in years. It may not be quite enough to put him at the forefront on the final day, but three days after idling at the boats in downtown Portrush, largely untroubled by the fans dotted all around him, he heard a roar of his name as he walked away from the final green that had become unfamiliar.
On the eve of an Open Championship, he stands in firm contention, light long exacting the gloom, and he’ll sleep dreaming of claret rather than because of it. There’ll be no pitstops in downtown Portrush tonight.
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