Rory McIlroy was searching for the words, though he had no need of them. The catch in his voice said it all. “Rory, Rory, Rory,” the spectators were chanting.

The golfer had just produced a thriller Agatha Christie would envy. The twist in the tale could not have been more dramatic when he sank a putt as long as the Nile on the 18th hole on his way to snatch what seemed an impossible victory in the Irish Open.

Four months ago, he strode into the history books by winning the Masters in the US, becoming only the sixth player and the first European to complete a career grand slam, but last Sunday evening in Kildare was special.

It culminated in a love-in on a divided island with a young man who, like many of his post-Troubles generation in Northern Ireland, refuses to be trapped in the ancient pigeonholes of identity.

This was about much more than birdies and bogeys. His voice crackled with feeling as he exulted in coming home to win his national tournament and being among “these people”, gesturing towards the crowd.

The green and orange of Irish flags billowed with celebration; not the hatred they too often symbolise.

Nelson Mandela believed sport could make the world better. “We need inspiration, Francois,” his Invictus movie incarnation urged South Africa captain Francois Pienaar before the 1995 Rugby World Cup. “Because in order to build our nation we must exceed our own expectations.”

But sport has the power to divide, too. That danger is greatest when it ditches its standards. The decision to stage next September’s Irish Open at Donald Trump’s golf club in Co Clare looks guaranteed to divide. For, if the prospect of Establishment Ireland swooning over the planet’s most........

© The Irish Times