Rory McIlroy is a fallible person.
He has said and done things I’ve disagreed with; he has frustratingly changed his opinion on certain topics; he has wrestled, and regularly succumbed, to mental demons during a decade-long major victory drought in the prime of his career—the career of a golfer who has always been brimming with generational talent.
But through it all, Rory McIlroy has been full of humanity, well beyond the increasingly robotic world of professional golfers and athletes in general.
He is not Tiger Woods of the 2000s with his life revolving around competition and little else.
McIlroy is a person first and golfer second. He answers interview questions genuinely, with almost too much honesty for his own good, instead of giving stock answers—even when we don’t like those answers. He can be likable and abrasive; he can hit a golf ball unlike anyone else and then lets negative emotions consume him in ways that other golfers may not even process.