challengers before making costly errors on the back nine—
this was almost certainly going to be Clarke’s last chance
at a major. At 42, he was No. 111 in the world, arriving in
Sandwich o; a T- 66 at the Scottish Open and in one of the
dark moods that has earned him the nickname “Prince of
Darkness” (hence his Twitter handle, “ThePrinceDC”).
Enter Dr. Bob Rotella, who joined Mike Finnigan in
Clarke’s think tank. “He’s doubled up on psychologists
properly,” Chandler said. Rotella and Clarke are old friends,
but since Clarke plays predominantly on the European
Tour—most recently in places such as the Iberdrola Open
in Spain, where he won in May the week of the Players—
they don’t get together that often.
When they do, it usually frees up Clarke on the greens,
which takes pressure o; the rest of his game and lets his
shotmaking talent pour through. Rotella calls it gaining
control by giving up control.
“You’ve got to feel destined that you’re going to win a
bunch of these,” Rotella said after working with Clarke on
the practice green. “He’s done a great job of staying with it
all week. He walked on the green this morning so happy with
himself, saying, ‘Who knows what’s going to happen today,
but I’m going to enjoy myself.’ He was more telling me that.”
That mood was obvious on the practice tee. With Chandler
standing beside him, Clarke striped shot after shot into the
hard crosswind. Extremely loose for such a tense moment, he
threw a headlock around former teacher Butch Harmon, who
was working with Johnson. Both men roared in laughter after
Clarke received
ample support
from the gallery at
Royal St. George’s,
and a victory kiss
from Campbell
after Sunday’s
final round.
Butch told Darren, “Don’t be
driving it past my man.”
At the first Clarke rolled
in a 13-footer for par. At the
second he drilled one from
five feet for birdie. The day
before, he missed three putts
from less than three feet that could have given
him a four-stroke lead. Rotella’s point about all
this: “When he’s unconscious with his putter,
he’s able to putt nicely, and it takes pressure o;
his long game.”
What really took pressure o; Clarke was the bounce his
ball took over the cross bunkers at the ninth hole, rolling
onto the front of the green for what turned into a round- and
major-saving par. That’s when everyone, including Clarke,
felt his victory was destined.
“It’s an attitude I’ve never seen in Darren before, how
relaxed he was, smiling, not letting things get to him, which I
thought was very important,” said Harmon. “But nobody plays
links golf better than Darren Clarke. We’ve all known that.”
They’ve also all known the emotional challenges Clarke
has faced in recent years. Eight years ago, he played the
2003 British Open at Royal St. George’s with Heather,
in the early stages of cancer treatment, walking in his
gallery. She died three years later in the summer of 2006,
but a month after that Clarke participated, and won three
points, in an emotionally draining Ryder Cup at the K
Club in Ireland.
As Clarke said after his second 68 gave him a share
of the 36-hole lead with former U.S. Open champ Lucas
Glover, “Nothing could be more di;cult than that particular week,” he said.
The reset in Clarke’s life occurred when he decided to
leave London and move back to Portrush, his adopted hometown in Northern Ireland, so that sons Tyrone, 13, and Conor,
10, could go to school with their cousins. This also coincided
with Clarke falling in love with Alison Campbell, a former
Miss Northern Ireland turned businesswoman and owner of
a Belfast modeling agency. Graeme McDowell set up Clarke
