SHANE LOWRY IS SITTING ON A BALCONY, GAZING INTO THE PAST.
It’s a cool, breezy, overcast May morning. Dark clouds threaten overhead.
“Irish weather,” Lowry says with a grin, even though this is Dublin, Ohio, site of this week’s Memorial Tournament, rather than his home country’s capital city. He’s cradling a bottle of Diet Coke. No matter that it’s a tick shy of 10 a.m., there was a twinkle in his eye when I gifted him his energy drink of choice — and a flash of disappointment. “Can’s the proper way to drink a Diet Coke,” he says, stated as irrefutable fact.
He’s in full pro-golf regalia: white shirt, white hat, easy smile. He looks trim — “I have been working hard on that,” he says sheepishly — and feels good, though I’m second-guessing our outdoor location as he flicks the first raindrop from his wrist. Everyone assumes this is his preferred climate — chill and wind and drizzle — no matter how often he points out that he and his family have lived in South Florida for a half decade.
But Lowry is Irish golf, because of what he’s done, where he’s won and how he’s gone about it fervent and fiery inside the ropes, candid and contemplative everywhere else. And so even as we sit beside the clubhouse at the Memorial Tournament — hosted every year at Jack Nicklaus’ Muirfield Village Golf Club — his thoughts and mine go to rainy golf days gone by, to County Offaly and County Louth and County Antrim, and his imminent summer return to Ireland. As conquering hero.
THE MOST INCREDIBLE THING about Lowry winning Ireland’s most momentous golf tournament — the 2019 Open Championship at Royal Portrush — in storybook fashion is that, a decade before, he’d done almost the same thing.
“I always said for a long time that no matter what I achieve in golf, I don’t think it’ll ever be any bigger than that,” Lowry says, smiling at the thought of what he’d pulled off nearly half a lifetime ago.
The 2009 Irish Open was Lowry’s first European Tour start. The burly, bespectacled, beardless 22-year-old was still an amateur, but if he was short on experience he was long on self-belief. He didn’t know what he could do, but, just as importantly, he didn’t know what he couldn’t do — so he went ahead and won the whole damn thing. It was a preposterous result; Lowry was just the sixth Irishman to win his national open and just the third amateur to win any European Tour event. Joining both clubs at once was the stuffof legend.
“If you told me an amateur is going to win this week [at the Memorial], I’d probably laugh at you,” Lowry says. “So to do that in your home tournament in your national open was very, very cool.”
Amid the throng of well-wishers who joined the scrum on the 18th green that day at coastal County Louth GC was a mop-topped teen clutching a bottle of champagne. Rory McIlroy had signed his card (T50) hours before but stuck around for a front-row seat to Lowry’s dramatic playoff finish. And there was Rors in the middle of the party, ready to douse. In so many ways for Lowry, it was just the beginning.
“There was a big celebration in town that Sunday night,” he says. By “town” he means Clara, a few-thousand-person municipality in County Offaly 70 miles west, in the center of Ireland, where Lowry grew up. His mother is one of 13 and his father one of 11, so cousins alone would have made for a big-time bash. The entire county turned out for good measure.
“It was a huge deal at the time,” Lowry says, remembering the frenzy of his epic homecoming, where the champagne had yet to dry on the streets when he announced he was turning pro.
There was no way to know an even bigger win was coming.
IN 2019, FOR THE FIRST TIME in 148 years, the Open Championship was a sellout. Even more remarkable: The 190,000-plus tickets were snatched up nearly 11 months before the competition.
This was a special occasion; not just any Open but the Open’s return to Royal Portrush, the rugged linksland jewel at the northern tip of Northern Ireland; the tournament’s first foray outside of Great Britain in nearly seven decades.
It was a meaningful tournament for any number of geopolitical reasons, but from a purely golf perspective it was fitting to see the game return to Ireland given the Emerald Isle’s remarkable run of winners in the preceding years. Padraig Harrington had secured his three majors in 2007 and 2008. Graeme McDowell won the U.S. Open in 2010. Darren Clarke claimed his lone major — the Open Championship — in 2011. And, from 2011 to 2014, McIlroy picked off four majors in less than four years.
Entering the Open at Portrush, it was McIlroy — then the World No. 3, the course-record holder, the local boy made good — who commanded the pre-tournament hype. But Lowry felt the pressure, too.
“I remember going into it, everybody’s booked their weekend, and the last thing you want to do is miss the cut when you’ve got friends coming in. I remember being sort of anxious about it. Like, I at least want to perform decently.”
He did better than that. While McIlroy was undone by the moment, making 8 on his very first hole and carding a Thursday 79, Lowry harnessed his nervous energy, first with an opening 68, then with a share of the 36-hole lead, then with a showstopping Saturday 63, giving himself a four-stroke cushion heading into the final round.
It was the same four-stroke margin he enjoyed three years before, entering the final round of the 2016 U.S. Open at Oakmont, where he lost the tournament with a Sunday 76. What would happen if he coughed this one up, too?
BUT THERE’S SATISFACTION in adaptation, and Lowry had taken something away from the Oakmont meltdown.
“If you look at that final round, I had a four-shot lead, I made a great par on the first, I stood up on the second tee, I was driving the ball better than I’ve ever driven it in my career, and it was 300 yards to the front of the green. And I laid up,” he says, thinking back on Oakmont, incredulous in hindsight. “Because I was like, I only need to make pars today and I can win.”
At Portrush, Lowry adopted the opposite mindset in a final round hammered by rain.
“I thought to myself that morning, Either first or last,” he says. “Like, if I finish second today, it’s a disaster, y’know? So I need to win. And I put a lot of pressure on myself saying that. I said to my coach that morning, ‘I need to go and win this tournament today.’ And I told myself, If I can make five birdies today, nobody can beat me. I was four ahead. If I make five birdies, even if I make five bogeys, somebody still needs to shoot five under to beat me. And in those conditions, that was basically not doable. So that’s how I went about my business.”
How do you play your best when you want it the most? Lowry has never lacked for competitive passion, but it’s a double-edged sword; his on-course eruptions have garnered viral attention more than once. He’s unapologetic.
“If you try to be somebody else on the golf course, you’re not going to perform to your best ability,” he says. “If that’s losing your cool every now and then, who cares? You look at Rahmbo, you look at Scottie. I mean, Rory’s had his fair share of stuff over the years, where he’s lost it a little bit. It’s high-pressure situations with a lot at stake, and I’m not talking financially.”
At Portrush, Lowry’s nerves showed on the first, but when he holed a testy eight-footer for bogey it felt like a win. From there, he went on the offensive with birdies at 4, 5 and 7. The rain arrived, hard and relentless, but he held steady. When Tommy Fleetwood, in second place and paired with Lowry in the final group, made double at 14, Lowry’s lead was five with four to play.
“That was where I felt like it was mine to properly lose,” he remembers. “It’s amazing what goes through your head when you’re on the course. You start getting into what happened in past Opens, people come into your head who have messed up from there. But it almost refocuses you and helps you think shot by shot.”
When Lowry, now holding a six-shot lead, found the 18th green with his approach, he fist pumped from the fairway, his relief — and everything else — finally surfacing.
“When I hit it, I was like, There we go,” he says. “Just a pure sigh of relief because from Saturday evening, when you’re finishing on the 18th green, to trying to get to sleep that night, trying to eat your dinner, trying to eat your breakfast the next day, even before the golf — it’s not easy. It’s what you practice for, but, look, it’s stressful.”
Approaching the green with arms raised, he choked up as he spotted a bright yellow jacket behind the green: It was his two-year-old daughter, Iris, in the arms of his wife, Wendy.
Around them were reminders of the who and the where that made this so meaningful, a lineup of the most essential people in his life and career. Family. Friends. Mentors. Peers. His coach, Neil Manchip, who’d been with him from the start. His parents, who’d been there even longer.
“My mum and dad were very influential my whole life,” he says. “When we didn’t have a lot, they worked very hard to allow me to play golf as an amateur, to go play the circuit.”
It takes a village to raise a champ. To celebrate one, too.
“AFTER YOU WIN, it’s just a whirlwind,” Lowry says. “There’s, like, two hours of media madness, [but] everybody’s in the clubhouse having a good time and I’m like, ‘I want to be in there! All my friends are there!’ ”
Luckily, the initial celebrations lasted a week — with the Claret Jug in tow.
“I remember the first drink we poured in it was a bottle of Jameson,” he says. “It actually fills up perfectly, the jug with the Jameson bottle.”
Lowry hauled that precious hardware to Clara on the Tuesday that followed, where an estimated 15,000 people lined the streets of a town with a population of 3,000. It was a tangible reminder of just how many proud locals had won the Open alongside the guy with the trophy.
The festivities continued for months. As deep into the year as December, there were still dinners with friends and, always, the Claret Jug.
“I probably took my eye off the ball for a few months,” Lowry admits without regret. “But sport is hard, and this level of sport is hard. When you do something special, I think you need to enjoy it as best you can.”
What shifts when you win a fairy-tale Open title? It’s tempting to call it life-changing, but Lowry says the impact was subtler than you’d imagine.
“I was thinking about it this morning, because I knew I was coming to talk to you,” he says. “I think my career changed. I don’t think my life changed a whole lot.”
When you’re a professional golfer it is, of course, impossible to separate the two. Lowry’s earnings — and earning potential — changed. His stature changed, as did his job security and résumé. It allowed him to make long-term plans with his family.
“A five-year exemption on the PGA Tour is huge,” he says. “We didn’t have a home in America, we were back and forth, so the structure of our life wasn’t really set. So it became: We can get a house here, this is where we want to be, this is where I want to practice. And I think over the last five or six years, we’ve built ourselves a great life in America, great friends in Florida, lovely house. We’re very happy, my wife’s happy, my kids are happy — happy family, happy life.”
Maybe it did change everything.
THE MAGNITUDE OF WHAT Lowry’s achieved hits heavier and harder when he’s back in Ireland.
“I’m quite recognizable with my beard, walking down the street,” he says. “But it’s fine, I like it. We have a house in Dublin, and I love going back and spending time there. I’m going to get a few weeks there this summer, which I’m very excited about. I begged my wife, so we’re doing our summer holiday in Ireland this year. I want my kids to have, like, Irish summers, like I did growing up.
“I do miss home.”
He also relishes the chance to tee it up again in front of what he calls “the best supporters in the world.” They’re not content with deeds already accomplished, which means they’ve been desperately awaiting Lowry’s next win. Lowry has been too.
“Not that I don’t want to be known as the guy that won the Open in Portrush, but obviously you want to achieve a lot more as well,” he says.
There’s reason for optimism in that regard. At 38 and with three Tour wins to his credit, Lowry says he’s playing the best, most consistent golf of his life. He traces this particular run of good form back to Team Europe’s 2023 Ryder Cup win — an energizing, explosive affair in Rome, where he unlocked a new level of motivation and competitive grit.
The results back that up: He kicked off 2024 with top four finishes at PGA National and Bay Hill, he and McIlroy teamed up to win that year’s Zurich Classic, and he posted big-time finishes in the biggest events: T6 at the PGA Championship at Valhalla, T19 at Pinehurst’s U.S. Open, sixth at the Open at Troon. He ended the year with eight consecutive finishes of 13th or better. He began 2025 in similar form, with eight top 20s and two runner-up finishes in his first 13 PGA Tour starts.
What’s the secret?
“I don’t like to call it work, because it’s golf; it doesn’t feel like work. But I’ve probably worked a little bit harder,” he says. “I’ve put a lot more into myself, my team, the people around me. I’ve worked on all aspects of my game and my life, I think. And that’s paying off.”
Even the ugliest of days have had their silver linings. In April, Lowry shot 81 on Masters Sunday, tumbling from contention to T42.
“One of the worst [rounds] I’ve had in a while, which was very hard to take,” he says.
But when McIlroy finished off his thrilling Masters victory, overcome with joy and relief on his walk to the Augusta National clubhouse, there was Lowry waiting with a bear hug. They’d reversed roles from that Irish Open all those years ago, with improved haircuts, fitness routines and tastes in wine. Lowry took care of the libations this go-around. He bought his countryman and close friend a case of 1990 Château Lafite Rothschild for the after-party.
“Rory loves his nice wine,” Lowry says, “so it was something I felt was necessary for the occasion.”
McIlroy’s green-jacket status means they’ll return to Ireland as conquering heroes together, the reigning Masters champion and the last man to win a Portrush Open. Lowry’s excited about that divided attention.
“I actually did say to him after the Masters that I’m pretty happy he won, because it’ll take a little bit of heat off me that week,” he laughs. “The people up there will be so happy to get him back for the tournament. That’s going to be pretty cool, pretty special for him.”
It’ll be especially helpful as Lowry returns for the first time to a town now home to a ludicrously large mural (it covers the side of a building) of his bearded, beaming face. He’ll process that in tandem with a perplexing admission: For Lowry, the 2019 Open is sort of ancient history.
“I look back and it feels like it’s a long time ago,” he says, sighing. “A lot’s changed in my life. Where we live, we have another child, stuff like that. But yeah, no matter what happens for the rest of my career, I’ll always have that Claret Jug sitting at home in Ireland, and I’m pretty proud of that.”
Asked what he’s most looking forward to in his Portrush encore, his first instinct is to just get on with it.
“All the anticipation — I’m excited to get the first tee shot over with and get into the tournament,” he says, “because the last time was so good. I’m not sure if this time it will or can be as good.”
Even as the words leave his mouth, Lowry seems to grasp what they mean: Once that first tee ball is in the air, this magical reign will end.
“So I need to go and try and enjoy this as best I can,” he says. “Soak it all in. I’m going up there early in the week, be around the club as much as I can, the course as much as I can. And then, when it comes to game time on Thursday, make sure I’m ready to go play.”
They’ll never take his name off the trophy. Nor will we forget his heroics that historic weekend in 2019. Still, for Shane Lowry, there is a way to keep the party going.
Win it again.
Dylan Dethier welcomes your comments at dylan_dethier@golf.com.