Rory Mcllroy is Rodrigo Mendoza.

He looked devastated. Hunched over a table, feeling the intense pain of, yet again, just not getting there. Grabbing defeat from the jaws of victory. 

Turning, shoulders slumped, walking away.

For those who have both predicted, and somewhat enjoyed, Rory McIlroy’s 10 year “sabbatical” from winning golf’s big prizes, it should have been satisfying. And for a great many, it clearly was. A torrent of abuse aimed at his past sins, real or imagined, around a ditched fiancee’, disloyalty to old agents, changing equipment, shady business deals, or just plain nasty envy spewed out for pleasure. 

Not this Column. That’s too easy. 

Over the years, no one has psycho-analysed this athlete’s weaknesses and errors more, but Sunday didn’t feel like another “told you so” moment. It seemed to deserve a more intellectual response.

One of the advantages of a good Catholic upbringing is in having a clear understanding of the concept of sin, penance, purgatory and, especially, forgiveness. These, therefore, become your signposts in moments like this, for right or wrong. This is our way to figure things out. 

Dante Alighieri stands, without contradiction, as one of the absolutely greatest literary and cultural figures of the West, and its Judeo-Christian history. Many will know his masterpiece, Inferno (Hell), but perhaps they don’t realise that it is part of a trilogy, including obviously Heaven and Purgatory. Together they are called the “Divina Commedia” and this book is the cornerstone of Italian art and heritage. His depictions of Hell, Purgatory and Heaven have provided inspiration for the larger body of art, influencing English writers, such as Geoffrey Chaucer, John Milton and Alfred Tennyson, among many others.

Dante is Italy’s Shakespeare.

Or better, Shakespeare is England’s Dante Alighieri. He is a big deal; a very big deal.

The Divine Comedy describes Dante’s journey through Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Heaven (Paradiso); guided by the Roman poet Virgil, and then by Beatrice (the love of his life, whom he met only twice).

Inferno is NOT an Enid Blyton book.

So jaw-dropping is the Inferno that many serious people believe that Dante actually did indeed descend into hell to describe and transcribe what he saw. The dramatic imagery of the circles of sins, ever deeper, all representing the increasing gravity of damnation. Below is an excellent summary. It is interesting and educational to see where many historical figures are placed. 

Paradiso (Heaven), in the trilogy, is the book with the most beautiful and mystic passages and is undoubtedly a Timothy Leary type “trip”, depicting a series of concentric spheres surrounding the Earth. All of which represents the soul’s ascent to God. It is so deeply poetic, that it has to be Beatrice who shows Dante all this. Perhaps, not a book for everyone, but for some it will have the impact of the Sistine Chapel or Michelangelo’s Pieta’, and all this truly is the pinnacle of Western religious culture and high theology.

One could suggest having “Dark Side of the Moon” playing softly in the background, to give the idea.

But Purgatorio is where Rory should start the Trilogy.

Like most things of true interest, where the game is still in play, and souls can still go either way, Purgatorio is arguably the most impactful of the three books, and has at its very core the idea of the redemption arc, so popular in today’s storytelling.

For non-Catholics, Purgatory is the passing intermediate state, after physical death, needed to purify a soul. You are not damned yet, and there is serious remedial work to be done, if you want to meet Saint Peter. The word itself has in general come to refer to a suffering, or condition of torment, and this is such a cool concept, the idea of a physical place like an intense painful rehab facility 😉.

Dante’s personal version of Purgatory, in the trilogy, is extraordinarily detailed and strikingly original. The “Legge Del Contrappasso”, where the punishment absolutely mirrors the crime, is simply genius. Each transient soul is plagued with a penance of redemption specifically linked to their sins: the envious, for instance, have their eyes sewn up; the proud are weighed down by stones.

Where do you think this scene came from? 

De Niro, in Roland Joffe’s Mission, is Rodrigo Mendoza, a mercenary and slave trader. His fiancée Carlotta confesses that she is in love with his half-brother Felipe and, in wrath, Mendoza kills him in a duel, an act that leaves him riddled with guilt.

Father Gabriel, Jeremy Irons, challenges Rodrigo to undergo sincere penance, and being a soldier, the weight placed on his back is therefore armour. This is obviously Dante. 

He doesn’t think he has suffered enough yet, so neither do I. And this isn’t a democracy.

At the end of his ordeal, the armour is cast below, and he finds both redemption and joy. He leaves Purgatory.

For those that care, all this is the core of Christianity. Everyone sins, and the game is all decided in how you deal with it, to achieve forgiveness. It’s really just a test, and so so much of modern popular culture has source code and root in this concept of weakness, vice and the climb up the Mountain of Purgatory to reach grace. Redemption indeed.

Rory is Rodrigo Mendoza.

Looking at him in that scoring room, the worst anguish on his face, one can perhaps perceive the imminent end of his penance. Maybe, just maybe, he has now suffered enough for all his disloyalty, his misplaced confidence in his maturity, his pride. Some will say that they don’t see all this badness in Rory; but for others, ditching a simple girl on the eve of her wedding by text is right up there.

Mendoza goes on to be the most honourable and committed defenders of the Mission, and like him, perhaps the golfer is again ready to win when it matters. All that is missing is the Morricone soundtrack, so perfectly timed here with the Mendoza liberation.

The composer, another devout Catholic, once stated:

I’ve only cried twice in my life, when I watched the Mission, and when I met the Pope.

For people like Morricone, almost everything in life can be explained better in the context of Dante, the Seven Deadly Sins, penance and forgiveness.

Denzel agrees.

The seven deadly sins are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth, and these are the building blocks, in total or separately, of almost every good narrative we have ever seen, fact or fiction.

The cleverest and most complete of these is, perhaps, “7even” by David Fincher, especially in how dramatically Envy and Wrath deliver the plot twist.

We each have a favourite sin, but pride is always the most interesting. Whilst the others can, easily and intuitively, be seen as irredeemably bad, pride is the one that gets you by the back door, masquerading as a virtue. That’s how “the devil comes at you”.

On the surface, pride appears as a positive, an idea of standards, the way your mother showed a nice tidy house to visitors, your Sunday best clothes, polished shoes. Attention to your appearance and the quality of your work. Pride in self, personal esteem, always turning up on time, never sick at sea. All the basis of being of the right stuff, and someone on which to rely.

Pride is a positive right?

In fact, this is absolutely a world which rewards the projection of proud confidence, whether real or fake. Looking and sounding the part, giving an idea of competence and success. That’s how you get the job, the business deal, and the girl. Pride works in spades.

But sooner or later it does “come at you”.

Ego gets the best of us with very very few exceptions. That’s what Denzel means. Pride tends to Pacino’s vanity, and ultimately arrogance. Be very careful of pride. Successful people start to believe their own hype. They become Icarus.

Once again, no coincidence the most famous Sermon on the Mount gives a very specific piece of advice.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Sport bathes in the sins of pride, greed, and envy. And this is today’s Sunday Column.

It is the perfect metaphor.

The greed part is easy, and one can choose the buzzwords of choice, (revenue growth, monetisation, ARPU), to camouflage the truth.

Throwing away more and more of its soul, with new formats and endless extra events, to chase a fresh dollar that in reality just over-saturates the product, and kills the stars.

Pacino, again in the Lucifer role, explains very well the inevitable doom of Eddie Barzoon, and it applies to so many chasing deals in sport these days. Our industry isn’t just an “asset class” from which to bill hours, earn banking fees, or accrue sales commissions.

It has a purity, where our heroes are considered divine. If Beatrice was guiding anyone through the Pantheon concentric spheres of sport, the language would perhaps be very similar to Dante’s Paradiso.

Eddie Barzoon has brought us to where we are today. At each other’s throats.

Players and their unions, for example, have had enough of all this. And they are the protagonists. No one seems ever to put their interests into the equation, and they are overworked, falling like 9-pins with injuries. You’d think that would provoke a change of direction?

Nope.

The world governing body of soccer, FIFA, is a one trick revenue pony, where the World Cup, which happens only every four years, is their alpha and omega. That bothers them intensely, especially when their European rival, UEFA, has the premier club competition every year, called the Champions League. As well as smaller international club events like the Europa and Conference Leagues.

The leader of FIFA, Gianni Infantino, like Blatter before him, is a proud man, loving the status afforded by his job as quasi-statesman, hob-nobbing with world leaders like Mandela, Putin, the oil royal families, Xi. The hubris is all over him, from his bald head to his suit-sneakers. If you can always judge people by whom they frequent, the verdict is clear!

But more than that, he is envious; of the relevance, power and money of UEFA, and politically, everything he does is an attempt to undermine them. From secretly, (allegedly), supporting the Superleague project, to now trying an establish a World Cup for Clubs; a tournament with no traditional sporting gravitas or relevance.

All this to make money (greed) and increase FIFA’s power (envy).

The different competing governing bodies of many big sports, if not all, are simply all jealous of each other, and need to throw more of THEIR games at a sporting calendar that can no longer absorb them.

Such an easy problem to see. And no one cares. Eddie Barzoon lives on.

The imminent Purgatory of Soccer.

The next AYNE’s Groundsmen Conversation is with Ricardo Fort, past sponsor, with Visa and Coca-Cola, of the IoC and FIFA. He warns on tape of a possible coming day of reckoning for soccer.

The European football championship for international teams is a week old now. It will last almost another month, as 24 teams battle it out. These tournaments get bigger and longer all the time, more games to be played, more revenues to be chalked up. More votes to be secured at the FIFA/UEFA elections.

To all intents and purposes, soccer is now played all year round, with no close-season. Hamsters in the wheel.

How does any thinking sane person see this ending?

The numbers of soccer games played needs to be drastically reduced. Not just for player burn-out, but as a commercial product. Call it what you like; the Principle of Scaricty, less is more, the NFL-model. But someone has to grasp the nettle on this.

Who has got the humility, political will and power to dicate how, say, English football should be run?

There is FIFA, UEFA, the English FA, the English Premier League, the EFL, the government regulator. All with a say on the future of the game.

Their pride, envy and greed will never allow them to work together for a solution.

Leagues everywhere need to be reduced to 16 teams, international tournaments should be immediately 8 or 16-team knock-out affairs, like play-offs, and there should be a clear off-season as in American football.

None of this will happen, and the whole edifice will tumble down the mountain under the weight of its hubris and pride. Someone else will inherit the earth; hopefully the meek.

Likely not.

We are all sinners, and whilst one hopes to see Rory as Mendoza, allow me one last cheap shot of envy.

Ah, did you panic? 😉

My place in Purgatorio is certainly booked. Rory, pushing a big heavy Titliest up a hill may still be there.

We shall see in Troon.

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