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The most prominent memento on display in Padraig Harrington's palatial home south of Dublin isn't a golf trophy but a framed copy of the Good Friday Agreement, the 1998 accord that ended the 30- year conflict in Northern Ireland. It bears the signatures of a rogues' gallery of combatants-turned-peacemakers and stands as a testament to fortitude, a seemingly impossible achievement that nearly slipped away at the last minute.
Harrington can relate. Perched on the breakfast bar in his kitchen is another reminder of the value of resilience: the Claret Jug. When he arrived in Carnoustie a year ago, the reigning European No. 1 was known for his habit of cashing second-place checks. The week began with Nick Faldo hinting that the genial Irishman was too nice to win a major. It ended with Harrington, now 36, enduring two water balls on the 72nd hole before turning in a superb playoff performance against Sergio Garcia. We visited Harrington at home to find out how the son of a Dublin cop became the Champion Golfer of the Year.
So what does it feel like to be a former member of the Best Players Never to Win a Major club?
It feels good. It's interesting, because while it's awesome to have won a major, where do I go from here? My rhetoric has always been, "Yeah I'm going to win more than one." For many people, there's nothing afterward. The battle now is to keep improving, to drive forward. There are a lot of guys who've only won one major. Winning two would really set me apart.
How has life changed since Carnoustie? Other than the Aston Martin parked out front.
In the U.S., I'm much more in demand. In Ireland, when I go to the gas station, they have something to congratulate me on, rather than look at me and say, "Well, you nearly won last week!"
You don't seem like the type to be bothered by fans coming up to you.
It's always good for your ego when someone says, "Well done." The day I came home from Carnoustie I went to a local restaurant — Can you believe that? Open champions have to eat! — and I put the trophy right in the middle of the table.
You took it with you to dinner?
Yes. This was at 4:30 in the afternoon. Every person who came in did a double-take. But nobody interfered. And if someone did, I'm well able to handle it. I can have a bit of banter with them. If you don't enjoy it you wouldn't enjoy being a professional golfer.
You say fans are good for the ego. Even at your level, is the ego that fragile?
Every sportsperson is all about their internal feelings about themselves. You don't have to be arrogant or obnoxious. But if I don't have an ego I won't put my neck on the line. Unless you have that drive, you'll be finishing 20th.
There was a time when you said you'd have been happy with that.
I thought that's what was achievable for me. I thought being a journeyman pro was the level of my ability. My goal in golf has always been to be the best I can. If I didn't become as good as I might have been it wouldn't be for lack of effort. I love playing golf, and I was playing for free. The thought of winning a European Tour event when I turned pro was way above expectations. Just keeping my card was the goal. But I always intended to develop, whatever that might lead to. It's obviously led to an Open championship.
What moment do you most remember from Carnoustie?
Watching the final [three-foot] putt drop. It was like no other putt I've ever hit. The last foot of that final putt was the longest foot ever. I raised my hands and I was happy, but it took me a second before believing I'd actually won. I mentally pinched myself that it was true. After that, I was on cloud nine. I gave my caddie a hug — the first time I've ever been in his physical space. We've often joked when I've won tournaments [that] it's been a handshake. Once, we actually touched shoulders. So now I've given him the biggest hug ever, knowing that anyone other than his wife being in his physical space is not something he appreciates.
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