Rory in rarefied company.

The golf swing is a complicated thing. We mortals that plunge into the ground every week know next to nothing about it. We can read up on it. Maintain stance, follow through, eye line, transfer of weight. But when all is said and done and when you face the first with a giggling horde behind you, you swing like a batsman, and the result is mostly in the lap of the gods.

There are pros that make you feel better. Witness the swing of Jim Furyk. It’s like watching Rafa Nadal hit a baseline winner, you can see with every stretched sinew, the effort that goes into it. Both winners. Both innately gifted. But Furyk offers hope on a misty morning at the driving range.

Rory Mcllory is the cold effortless reality. That moment when a man realises he will never play professional golf. Mcllory hitting an iron is now the purest, most poetic thing in Sports. Like a delicate wrecking ball, arched back waiting to destroy its target. He holds his stance for a second or two after, as if made from stone. That now iconic twirl of the club. He likes it alright.

The manner in which he destroyed the field at Congressional Park over the weekend seemed as effortless as his swing. -1 maybe -2 was the expert’s choice in picking a possible winning score. Show me numbers; -16. The records tumbled as quickly as his challengers faded. Any hint of weakness was swept aside by every approach, every putt, and every wondrous wedge. The fans that amassed in their thousands roared him on. “Get in the hole!” With Mcllory it didn’t seem such a ridiculous notion.

Augusta has been deemed the turning point. The brutal implosion at the grandest stage. When the surest of swings turned into a lottery. Was Augusta that important to him though? He learned of course, to close a back-nine. To get the job done. But in the aftermath of the Masters he spoke as if it was a mere speed bump on the road to greatness. A footnote in his inexorable climb. So I threw one away? I’ll win the next one.

Lee Westwood was the bridesmaid yet again and that should be noted. A magnificent player and clearly a decent man. His time will come is a line that he has heard far too much in his career. Just when the fierce shadow of Tiger Woods had faded along comes another tyro capable of another era of golfing tyranny.

Subconsciously the others cede to Tiger. They will also do now to Rory. Like David Villa does to Lionel Messi. Like Andy Murray does to Nadal. There he goes. The man.

We are left then hoping that Tiger finds fitness. That his demons are finally banished and we can get back to that knowing smile when we see him charge of a major Sunday. A young buck has stomped all over his territory. Smashed his records and is the talk of the town. Back nine of the Open on a Sunday or the PGA. Tiger and Rory. You want to call it? Golf is in the lap of these two gods.