SOUL SURMISE

MIKE CAMPBELL - HEARTBREAKER

Mike Campbell has written a rock music memoir full of grace, humility and gratitude.

Near the end of a well written, most enjoyable and gripping read, Mike Campbell describes his feelings around the time of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers’ final studio record Hypnotic:

There were moments then here I could see it all so clearly. I could close my eyes and see the whole epic story of the band, from struggling to make to all the way to the present. It almost seemed like a myth, like an ancient adventure pulling us all in its wake.

Heartbreaker tells us that epic story. About a young poor boy in Gainesville Florida who made it to the top of the world. From a freezing hut in the countryside of Florida to a beautiful house with a recording studio and animals in the garden, in the heart of LA. Mike Campbell tells rags to riches a Holywood story.

The engine of this story is the young boy’s genius. He can play guitar. However, this boy needed his friend to front the story, to drag him across the world. The Tom Petty in Heartbreaker is a complex kid to steal one of their titles. He’s full of warmth, humour and goodness but also selfish drive, totally focused commitment and a little arrogance.

Campbell’s grace made him a loyal friend to a front man who didn’t always treat him well. Whatever Petty threw at his band mates and however the rest reacted Campbell stayed true. He had a natural inferiority complex which comes across as humility and he stayed ever grateful to the life that he got to live as guitar player with Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers.

“To me, being grateful was the key to everything. It was what made it possible for me to get through the hardest times in the band. Simple gratitude. Simple thanks for the blessings I had been given. For the life. For the music. For the crew. For the fans.”

Campbell tells the story of the band’s rise with great detail. The way songs came together, how producer Jimmy Iovine worked, how tours went, the management and legal complications and the drug addictions. Closer and more devoted than Petty is, his wife Marcie who has done the entire journey by his side.

Underneath the Petty tower, Campbell became a musician in his own right. Working up tape after tape of song ideas for Petty, a few taken and many discarded he gave one to the Eagles’, Don Henley, and had a massive hit with Boys Of Summer. It all ended with him starting his own band The Dirty Knobs and becoming a guitar player for Fleetwood Mac.

In between, Mike Campbell from Gainesville met and played with all the greatest musicians ever. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers became Bob Dylan’s band for a couple of years and this is perhaps the best writing on the inside track of that relationship. Then there is George Harrison and Jeff Lynne who became part of the family including The Travelling Wilburys. Johnny Cash, Paul McCartney, Joe Strummer… and a beautiful story of how his mother opened the door to Mick Jagger.

You get that feel for the gratitude. Michael Campbell has lived the life and his early years were not pointing to anything like this. Petty putting the old Gainesville mates together in Mudcrutch, thirty years after they broke up is an amazing chapter in the Petty career, as though he’d learned grace from his guitar player.

In the last pages of the book we have to deal with Tom Petty’s death. I hated it coming towards me as I read. There is grief. Yet, Petty’s joy on the 40th Anniversary Tour is consolation. 

Afterwards we hear about how he tried to finally sing a Petty song during a Dirty Knobs’ gig and when he broke down during Southern Accents and the crowd sang it home. Better still is when they did do a Petty Tribute evening and reaching for his lifelong guitar techie Chinner for a guitar as he introduced the next song he looks up and it’s Tom’s wife Dana handing it to him. I burst into tears!

I have admired Mike Campbell since at least Damn The Torpedoes. I knew he was so important to Petty’s sound. I knew he was a great guitar player. When I reviewed the one Petty concert that I am so grateful that I experienced. My conclusion was all about Campbell. 

Something happening on that stage was meeting me in the very depth of my spiritual life. As Mike Campbell dug his fingers deep into the fret board of one of his plethora of guitars and eked out this sound that was loud, melodic and beautifully piercing my soul was raised to a higher plain, ecstatic at living this life and energised to live it more to the full.

I too am grateful. Thank you Mike Campbell for that moment and telling me yours and Tom Petty’s story so beautifully and honestly.

MY TRIBUTE TO POPE FRANCIS - 1936-2025

For Janice and I, Pope Francis was our Pope. The only one that we have had the pleasure to meet and the only one that we ever really wanted to. Janice and I are saddened by his death. We had a wonderful time meeting him and maybe hoped that there would be another chance.   

The strangeness of a Presbyterian minister being so fond of a Pope goes back to the night that the white smoke went up and he was announced as Pope. 

Us Presbyterians from Fitzroy were in Clonard Monastery doing The Gospel According To... Christy Moore. Strange indeed. It was one of the first ever 4 Corners Festival events. It had been postponed in January because of snow but the West Belfast Féile invited us to do it at a mini Spring Féile.

My phone was pinging with texts from Rome. Another Fitzer, Paul Clark, was there with UTV News. He was determined to get the news of a new Pope to Presbyterians first!!! So we could tell our Catholic friends! 

I am not sure how the timings worked but I do remember that we did indeed announce the new Pope. I think everyone was taken by him choosing the name Francis. Everyone loved Francis Of Assisi. May I Be A Channel Of Your Peace for goodness sake.

It was no surprise when one of his major encyclicals was Laudato si, an appeal for us all to consider the planet. Very Francis of Assisi.  Followed up with a film The Letter that we showed at 4 Corners Festival this was all widely discussed and hopefully acted upon. I remember being invited with Fr Martin to an evening at Queen’s with John Barry and Jonathan Hanson.

Watching his time as Pope, as I did from a distance, I was taken by Pope Francis. He seemed to be quite evangelical. I would later meet Austen Ivereigh who wrote books with the Pope and Austen’s first book about him was called The Reformer. 

It did seem like a Reformation when he went to all the synods of the world and asked the opinions of every Catholic. This is not Magisterium pontificating down but the hierarchy bending down and listening to the pew sitter. I wonder if we are doing that in our so called Reformed denominations?

I was asked, as a Presbyterian, to review his book (with Austen) Let Us Dream. I found it powerfully prophetic. On hyper, individualism, on care for the poor, on rigidity being the sing of a bad spirit, and the need to walk together.

Even more needing to be heard, for these days we are living was “I criticise the self-evidently fictitious idea that wealth must be allowed to roam unhindered in order to provide prosperity to all.” Instead he sees the secret of a better day “to put the economy at the service of the people to build peace and justice and defend mother earth.”  This is Biblical stuff. Jesus preached.

The chance to meet him was a thrill for Fr Martin, Janice and I when in celebrating 10 years of 4 Corners Festival we were invited to a private audience along with a bunch of students celebrating 50 years of the Catholic Chaplaincy at Queen’s University Belfast. Our hour with Pope Francis was unforgettable. His humility. His welcome. His passion for Jesus. His genuine interest in us. His willingness to engage with us. 

He was mentally very sharp at then 85 years of age. He opened the floor to questions that meant he was confident to answer quickly whatever came his way. I was immediately impressed.

When we got talking about relationships across denominational lines Pope Francis was warm in his respect for those of us who weren’t Catholic. He asked that we work together. He also suggested that we should send those who were divided over theology to an island to fight it out while we get on with IT.

That struck me. What was his IT? IT was not theology. Oh he was not dismissing theology. Of course not. He understood too that our theology was different. BUT it shouldn’t get in the way with getting on with IT.

I can only go by what else he shared with us in that library. His big but gentle preach that morning was that we would read the Gospels of Jesus so much that we would start to wear Jesus. “The soul is moved by witness”, he said. If that is IT, then I am in.

I was asked on to different radio programmes today. Before I went on I wanted to capture Pope Francis in a few words, so that I'd have something when I didn't know what the next question was. It was easy to trot them out.

He was welcoming. He welcomed us warmly into his private library.

He was committed. I found it beautiful that the day before he passed, he was working on resurrection Sunday. People have said that they felt sorry that they made him work when he was so frail. From meeting him I know that he would have wanted to be out there saying even just a few words. He walked across a room to the door and back to welcome us, on very painful knees.

He was humble. His humility seemed to not just be in words. He was a no frills Pope. No limousines or fancy shoes. There are so many stories of this and his posture in our presence was of deep humility. He always asked people to pray for him. He was the Pope for goodness sake.   

He was Jesus centred. I have had my fill of the theologically centred, the legalist centred and the denominationally centred. The only times I find authenticity of Christian faith is when I am with someone who exudes the Jesus who they are clearly mesmerised by and are attempting to stumble and tumble after. Pope Francis was one of those. 

My biggest regret in life was that the he asked me to pray for him, as we said goodbye in his private library, that I promised I would but didn't just put my hand on his shoulder and pray for him right there in the Vatican.

So, this Presbyterian Manse is heartbroken at the news the death of Pope Francis. Janice and I are so very grateful that we got to meet him and are so sorry that our daughter Jasmine will not get to meet him on her trip in July. 

SURMISES ON HOLY SATURDAY

Easter Saturday has fascinated me for some years. It is difficult to find yourself in that day without our 2000 years of hindsight. We can put up with such a horrific day because we know about the day after. 

I put it like this: 

The great idea is buried

We walk in the day between

What we watched on Friday

And a Sunday no one’s seen

 

On his first album, Life After Death, a collection of songs written about his father’s death, my friend Doug Gay has a song called Saturday Train and puts it like this:

 

I’m in a tunnel of grief 

On a Saturday train

Hurtling along 

In the echoing dark

 

Til it slams to a stop

And the train powers down

So they dim all the lights 

And I wait in the gloom

 

What if I never get out of here?

What if I never can reach the light?

What if this Saturday train never moves again?

 

My friend Alex Wimberly posted a prayer for Easter Saturday that begins to make sense of it. I am particularly taken by the lines

 

To rush from Friday to Sunday,

from death to resurrection,

wouldn’t do either justice.

Nor would it dignify the life of those

whose daily pain and grief

and constant pleas for justice

go unanswered in the world’s daily rhythm

 

This Easter weekend is missionally, pastorally and theologically full. Stopping, taking time, reflecting on it can be helpful in a plethora of ways. My companion in spiritual subversiveness  Fr Martin Magill sent me this:

 

The silence of Holy Saturday speaks to the mystery of death and the unknown. It reminds us that there are moments in life when we are forced to wait and trust in God’s plan, even when we don’t understand it. It also serves as a reminder that in the midst of life’s struggles and uncertainties, God is present, even if He seems hidden from our sight.

 

So, let us not rush right through. Oh it is so easy to start thinking about the empty tomb of tomorrow but we would miss something we need to hear on this cold dark day between. Tomorrow can wait. Often times it will have to.

PRAYER AROUND THE CROSS

 

Holy God

Creator and Sustainer

Victim of our desire for independence

Hurt in heart by our pushing you away

God tonight our independence

Throws the world into perpetual suffering

Our desire for things unhealthy to us

Sends the world into constant pain

Yet, against all this

Your eternal grace has come looking for us

Your lavish love has given your all for us

Your tender mercy has embraced and forgiven us

God we thank you for Jesus

For this cross

That while we were still sinners Jesus died for us

God you have died for our injustices

For all that we have done to your world

For all that we have done to one another

For all that we have done to ourselves

So, around this cross

We gather

And cry out to you

How long must we sing this song

How long must we pray these prayers

Lord, give us a new song

A song of peace and shalom 

And a just and loving world

And so gathered here

We ask that you will take us

Broken too

Damaged

Lord, on this Good Friday

May we die to the old ways

And be grafted into the new

God, heal us at this cross

Repair us

Save us from each other and ourselves

And then send us out into this world

With love and peace and justice

Make us Kingdom bringers

Peace builders 

Lovers of God and humans and earth.

In Jesus dying name we pray

AMEN

BONO ON EASTER

Bono on Easter…

Michka Assayas’s book Bono In Conversation came out the day my updated version of Walk On was to be with the publisher. We hit Vancouver stores around midnight to get a copy. We did. It was a revelation. 

French journalist Assayas is the perfect interrogator. He is a trusted confidant of Bono. Yet he is also secularist and agnostic who cannot quite accept that a man of Bono’s intelligence and cultural sharpness could believe this Christian stuff. It is ideal provocation that allows Bono to nail his theological perspective. From there it is clearly seen that his life is lived in the light of how he identifies Christ and his identification with Christ.

When Assyas suggests that is Christ among the world’s great thinkers maybe, but son of God might be a bit far fetched, Bono is on it with CS Lewis-like apologetic: “But actually Christ doesn’t allow you that. He doesn’t let you off the hook. Christ says: No I’m not saying I’m a teacher, don’t call me a teacher. I’m not saying I’m a prophet. I’m saying: “I’m the Messiah.” I’m saying: “I am God incarnate.”… So what you’re left with is: either Christ was who he said he was – the Messiah – or a complete nutcase. I mean we’re talking nut case on the level of Charles Manson.”

Bono also defines God’s view of the world. He says he loves “the idea that God says: ‘Look, you cretins, there are certain results to the way we are, to selfishness, and there’s mortality as part of the sinful nature, and, let’s face it, you’re not living a very good life, are you? There are consequences to actions.’” 

No hint of the usual modern political correctness or tolerance from an anything and everything goes rock star. Where Bono brings grace to the human condition is exactly there – grace. His relationships with fellow rock stars, no matter how hedonistic or political figures no matter how right wing is laced with a love and mercy that he himself finds in the grace of God. He says: “Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which is in my case very good news indeed.”

That grace is centred on Christ’s cross; “I’m holding out that Jesus took my sins onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to depend on my own religiosity.” Bono’s self deprecation is evident throughout which again is neither the regular disposition of rock stars in general or for some who don’t look carefully enough, Bono in particular. 

A closer look at the songs and performances and you’ll see that any egotistical celebrity poses Bono throws are a role play with the absurdity of his occupation. Finishing many gigs on the Vertigo Tour with Yahweh, a prayer of commitment, that ends with a pleading that God would take his heart and make it break is a little upside down in a music world more renowned for its selfish indulgence. 

Bono tells Assayas that it is at the Cross where he gets humbled: “The point of the death of Christ is that Christ took on the sins of the world, so that what we put out did not come back to us, and that our sinful nature does not reap the obvious death. That’s the point it should keep us humbled…It’s not our own good works that gets us through the gates of Heaven.”

At the end maybe too influenced by Eugene Peterson whose paraphrase The Message Bono endorsed he says, “’Be silent, and know that I am God.’ That’s a favourite line from Scriptures. ‘Shut Up and Let Me Love You’ would be the pop song. It’s really what it means. If ever I needed to hear a comment, it might be that.”

GETHSEMANE

 

Thursday night

Jesus is on his knees

Head in hands

Heart heavy

Soul dark

Tortured

He looks into the next day

Filled with distress 

Fear

Understanding

Ratcheting the stress

He prays

He prays for a quick fix miracle

That this would be taken from him

His body sweats

Sweats as if drops of blood

Then he goes right through it

To the other side

To God’s will be done

“Rise, let us go”.

 

14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven,[f] Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. 16 Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

- Hebrews 4:14-16

JUSTIN ROSE... AND GOLF... A CLASS ACT

It was hard to take your eyes off Rory McIlroy in the minutes after he sank that now historic three foot putt to win the US Masters and complete the career Grand Slam of golf. 

If you had just enough focus through the haze of emotion to watch carefully to all that was going on there was another amazing story happening all around.

I am glad that I am not the only to highlight it has been much discussed, was the response of Justin Rose to losing what would have been his second Major in a play off. This was his second loss in a Masters play-off, the first to Sergio Garcia in 2017.

Rosie, as he is affectionately known, had had quite the Masters. He led after an opening day 65 and was still in front after the second round. After a blip on the Saturday he ripped up Augusta again on Sunday hitting 10 birdies in a round of 66. 

After all of this, as Rory roars all of his 10 years pent up emotion out, Justin stand on the green, defeated. 

It would have been easy to shake hands and slip off to lick your wounds. Not Justin Rose. He hugged Rory and took some of Rory’s tears. He then spoke about how much of a privilege it was to be on the green with him when he made such history. 

When the television directors felt that it was ok to take the camera off Rory, we saw Rory’s wife hug the woman beside her. That was Justin’s wife who was later seen giving Rory himself a huge embrace. 

I have had my moments with golf. It was my life until I was 17 and then dress codes and haughty hypocrisy caused me to eventually give it up. And, I am not for one moment suggesting that other sports don’t have good sportsmanship but I would dare to suggest that there is something about golf. 

When all was over Justin had no team mate to stand by him but he did have the history of golf. That history would have had Justin strangely divided. He wanted to win, having dreamed of a green jacket for longer than Rory, but he also wanted to feel history happen in his sport. The consolations I guess.

It all told us, if we didn’t know before, just what a class act Justin Rose is. The Majors owe him one and if Rory doesn’t win all of the next three, I for one am rooting for Rosie. Quite something!

SUCKERS ON THE VINE OF MY SOUL

 

5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7 If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”

- John 15:5-8

 

Jesus on Easter week.

He’s turned over the tables in the temple. Before we find ourselves at the Last Supper, Judas’ betrayal or Gethsemane we find him doing a seemingly unfair thing of withering a barren fig tree.

A short reflective service in Fitzroy, this Easter week, sent my mind off to many surmises. Different readings, particularly from John 15 and a poem where the fig tree seems delighted with its vocation of being a poetic metaphor for Jesus sent me back to my childhood.

My dad was a fan of roses. The front of our house had lots of them. All different names. All different colours. Spectacular all summer.

Around the age of 10 everything for me was competitive. In the car I’d play white cars against red ones or certain number plates against others (AIA v RZ). Strict rules. They couldn't be behind us or parked. Only the cars had to come past us. 

In the garden it was the number of blooms on the roses. I wish I could remember the names now. I’d count every week. See who the most flowering rose was. There was a white one that always had treble the blooms of others. Dad told me that it was a different kind of rose. My favourite was red but it never beat that white one.

In all this fascination I’d watch my dad care, very deeply, for his roses. I’d watch him prune them. He always knew exactly where on the branch to do it.

He also told me about suckers. He’d point these rogue branches that seemed to be growing faster than the others, usually a more watery green colour. Dad would rip them out. Suckers, he would say, take away all the goodness that should been  on the real bush. They would suck out the strength. 

Jesus was up tight at as he arrived in Jerusalem, this time. Think of Rory McIloy’s head going into all those Masters’ tournaments where everyone was focused on him completing that Grand Slam. The tension. Jesus was tense as he headed towards Good Friday. Think of him praying in Gethsemane.

Earlier in the week he seemed to be shorter in patience for those who were missing who he was, what God was doing, the religious authorities and their idolatry, compromise and betrayal. The sucker of society, stupid allegiances and the longing for power and money had caused those who should know God’s ways to be following anything but. 

In the reflections I started asking what are the suckers that are distracting me, leading me away from behind right behind Jesus? What drags and draws me from the full fertility of the Holy Spirit in my soul? What do I need to rip out of my life, to remain on the vine to bear the fruit of the Spirit?

STOCKI'S EASTER WEEK PLAYLIST

 

Rich Mullins - You Did Not Have A Home

Patti Smith - Until The End Of The World

Bruce Springsteen - Jesus Was An Only Son

Martyn Joseph - Strange Way

Kris Kristofferson - They Killed Him

Duke Special - The Hours

Russ Taff - The Cross

The Choir - Beautiful Scandalous Night

McIntosh Ross - Jesus Nailed My Sins Upon The Tree

Pierce Pettis - You Did That For Me

Gavin Bryars and Tom Waits - Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet

Ben Kyle - Mercy

Doug Gay - Saturday Train

Bob Dylan - In The Garden

Innocence Mission - Were You There

Dolly Parton - He’s Alive

Spiritualised - Oh Happy Day

U2 - Window In The Skies

Blue Rose Code - Amazing Grace

RIDING THE RORYCOASTER THROUGH HURT TO JOY

My social media message at 7.25pm last night:

I don't want drama... not for this one... let us have a 10 shot march to a career Grand Slam! Come on Rory!

Too soon it was:

RORYCOASTER TIME!

Well, the Rorycoaster finished the ride… then some… and when everything stopped we had tears and celebrations never the like before. 

At the 89th U.S. Masters, history was made. Rory McIlroy from Holywood, County Down in Northern Ireland became the first person from the island of Ireland to wear a Green Jacket (that all winners receive) and also the sixth person in the history of golf to have won all 4 Major Tournaments in his career.

That all sounds totally joyous. It was anything but until the very last putt. The Rorycoaster took us to hell and back… again and again. Which is the story of his last decade of Rory McIlroy not just the final round of the 2025 Masters. 

For this ride we could go back to the first round on Thursday. At 4-under par with 4 holes to go, I thought that Rory was playing with a different purpose and this was the good start he needed. When he then took two double bogeys in this last 4 holes. Oh my! Same old Rory.

He came back on Friday with a 66. Then on Saturday he became the first player in Masters’ history to start a round with six 3s. Rory was on the strut and even though he had a wee blip he came back to lead the Masters by two shots from the brash Bryson DeChambeau who was on a swashbuckling march of his own.

Sunday. History. Rorycoaster. Our hero starts like a 10 handicapper, makes a 6 at the first and loses his lead at the second. A quick response and Rory looks like he has it, DeChambeau withering alongside him. Rory is playing sensible mature golf and there is a point where he takes a 5 stroke lead.  

At this stage I think my wife was trying to tell her husband to calm down. 5 shots. This is done. Relax and enjoy it.

Oh Janice, Golf is never like that love. Golfers don’t just play the course. Rory could trundle in the last 9 holes in par. Excellent play young man. BUT another player could shoot six 3s over the last six holes as Rory had the first six on Saturday and Rory could have it stolen from him.

Then there’s the Masters. As my wise old dad used to say, The Masters doesn’t start until the back 9 on Sunday and on that back 9 anything can happen. 

Then there’s the water. I started muttering to my wife about just how much water. Shush she kept saying. Until her husband is proved right and Rory from 92 yards drops one in the burn at 13, when an easy birdie might have shut husband up. Rory takes 7 while Justin Rose, our second favourite is picking up birdie after birdie. 

The Rorycoaster takes another turn and Rory plays a miraculous shot around the trees to 8 feet on the 15th. I missed that shot, not sure whether to go to bed. Being Rory he missed the eagle putt but a birdie there and at 17 and it looks good until the Rorycoaster’s last call, finding a bunker and missing another 8 footer putt to win on 18. There’s a mourning silence in our living room.

Meanwhile Justin Rose quietly scores 10 birdies to finish level with McIlroy. At this stage we are all aware that Rory’s nerves are shot, mine were too. I remember Andy Murray saying that in that last game against Djokovic to win Wimbledon, he couldn’t feel his legs. I am sensing a shredded head on Rory. Surely Justin is going to steal it!

And… Rory hits a perfect drive and dials an iron into 4 feet. 4 Feet for history. I am almost behind the sofa. In it goes and the man breaks down, all the scar tissue, all the near misses, all the doubts, all the Rorycoasters and at last his 5th Major 11 years after the last, his first Green Jacket and the sixth person in history to win all 4 Majors.

WOW! The crowd are chanting his name. Everyone, including Justin Rose I think are delighted. We are all on our feet. Janice is cheering sport!! It must be one of the greatest moments in sport - ever. For me it is up there with Aguero's 94th minute winner for City to win the Premiership in 2012 or Andy Murray's first Wimbledon title in 2013. The exhilarating mix of relief and joy!

After the Rorycoaster closed for the night, I surmised that we had actually watched Rory McIlroy’s life in one four hour sitting. Two up at the start was like his 4 Majors before he is 25. The double bogeys, the easy shot into the water, the missed putts are the last ten years of his life. He has had a few Majors in his hands, particularly the 2022 Open at St. Andrews and last year’s US Open. 

To come back from all that which I feared must have deeply damaged his psyche is maybe his greatest achievement. As a 24 year old, agreed to be the most talented golfer of his generation, he wanted to win as many Majors as Tiger and Jack Nicklaus and the years were full of potential to do it. Then nothing. Worse than nothing, losses from the jaws of victory. I often shouted at the TV, “Give up, don’t put yourself through anymore of this. It’s too painful.”

We are all glad that he didn’t. Rory McIlroy revealed in 2011, when he blew a 4 shot lead in the last day of that US Masters, that there is a weakness in his wee Holywood head. However, with that to hinder him he has kept going, winning over 40 tournaments around the world. He never gave up, not even after that missed putt on the 72nd hole. He kept plugging away, against the possibility of more pain, to win in the play off.

Hats off. It is a mark of real resilience. Of being knocked over and getting straight back up. 

Now, the USPGA is at one of his favourite courses, Quail Hollow. He’s won there four times. The British Open is on home ground in Portrush. I beg you Rory, no 8 at the first this time. Maybe? Could he? Now that the monkey is off his back. What about a Grand Slam in four short months? Go on Rory!