Cathal Dennehy Has Rory McIlroy simply forgotten the joy is in the journey?

“A gold medal is a wonderful thing,” he says. “But if you’re not enough without it, you’ll never be enough with it.” 

Kellie Harrington has lived that, having scaled the highest peak only to find the feeling at the top a little hollow.

The night she won her first Olympic gold in Tokyo, she was unable to sleep and at around 5am, went to the dining hall for a cup of tea. The afterglow was not what many would imagine. As she wrote in her autobiography: “I sat there, feeling so empty. I didn’t know what I should be feeling.” 

At those same Games a fellow Dubliner, John Coghlan, coached his first Olympic champion, Jasmine Camacho-Quinn of Puerto Rico who won the 100m hurdles.

But once the initial euphoria subsided, and Coghlan returned to his base in Florida, he felt empty. “I didn’t think post-Olympic depression kicked in that quickly, and this is after winning,” he told me.

“I was like: ‘What am I doing here? What’s the point?’ Maybe it was because I was there by myself. But it was bad.”

Kenny Egan also knows the darkness that can follow a big-bang achievement. He told the Irish Daily Star he “didn’t want to get out of that ring” after the 2008 Olympic final in Beijing, where he won silver.

“I was comfortable there. I was happy there. I was doing what I loved, and I felt safe in the boxing ring. When that bell rang I went, ‘F**k, what do I do now?’”

Welcome to the void, which can envelop those who spent so long striving towards a goal only to find themselves lost, and lacking in purpose, after they achieve it.

In 2023, a study published in the Scandinavian Journal of Sport and Exercise Psychology examined ‘post-Olympic blues’ and found that among 49 Danish Olympians and Paralympians, 27% had below-average well-being or moderate-to-severe depression one month after the Games.

For athletes who achieved their goals, just as many had above-average well-being as below average (40%), suggesting that however good the initial flood of happiness is after big results, it soon dries up.

Dr Cody Commander, the mental health officer for Team USA at the Tokyo Olympics (who also has the most Team USA name imaginable), told The New York Times about the warning signs of post-Olympic blues. 

“Appetite and sleep are the first few things that can change. You’re eating and sleeping more or less. You’re also looking to see if there’s any social withdrawal.

"That is more common for elite athletes now – not responding to text messages, emails and calls. They can’t deal with the mental energy needed to talk to everyone about it.” 

Does that last line remind you of anyone in recent months?

For someone who’d always been so open and candid with the media, Rory McIlroy’s withdrawal following his Masters win left many wondering what exactly was gnawing away at him, and the hot takes only multiplied after a short, spiky interview he gave in Oakmont last week where he said he’d “earned the right to do whatever” he wanted, adding his unavailability was more down to “frustration with you guys” (in the media).

RTÉ’s Greg Allen asked him if he could pinpoint anything that led to a “bit of a flat spot” following the Masters. McIlroy said you “don’t really know how it’s going to affect you, how you’re going to react to such, I wouldn’t say life-altering occasion, but at least something I’ve dreamt about for a long time.” 

McIlroy admitted he “felt a little flat” on the golf course afterwards.

That’s only normal, and McIlroy seemed in brighter spirits this week, on and off the course, starting the Travelers Championship in Connecticut with a bogey-free round of six-under on Thursday.

“There's no point in thinking about the result right now,” he said. “I'm just trying to play as good as I can and make good swings and if I do that enough, more than likely I'll find myself in a position to have a chance to win.” 

In his play, and his words, he seemed to be emerging from the funk he’d been in since the Masters victory. Given how sporting greats like him are wired, that tends to be the only way: to keep showing up and start pushing that rock back up the hill.

Many suggested the best thing for McIlroy would be an indefinite break to bask in his achievement, and maybe it is, but to think he’d be more content doing that is questionable. There is, after all, a strong link between goal-setting, having a purpose and happiness.

In a study published in 2008 by the Journal of Happiness Studies (which sounds like a fun place to work), researchers split participants into two groups.

One continued life as normal while the other was asked to set goals and given tips on how to achieve them. 

Three weeks later, the group with goals was judged to be 8% happier than when they started and 12% happier than the second group.

As the researchers noted: “Goal setting and planning skills have a causal link to subjective well-being.” 

But all goals are not created equal, and studies have found intrinsic goals related to personal growth, relationships and community have a stronger link with happiness than extrinsic goals like job promotions, material possessions or, say, a career Grand Slam.

Still, when such goals have great intrinsic meaning, the pursuit of them provides great purpose, which is linked to greater happiness.

For many sporting greats, the easiest way to cope with success is by swiftly looking forward. Eliud Kipchoge, the greatest marathoner in history, once told me it’s akin to driving a Ferrari. “If you concentrate on the rear mirror,” he said, “you’ll crash and cause an accident.” 

Two teams that will only be looking forward right now are the Indiana Pacers and Oklahoma City Thunder, who will contest the deciding game seven of the NBA finals tomorrow night.

Both sets of players will be desperately trying to end a decades-long drought for their teams, and they know one shot could separate utter devastation from absolute euphoria.

But come what may, they’d be wise to remember the words of two-time NBA finals winner Ray Allen, who wrote in his memoir From the Outside that he felt “empty” in the days after his first victory.

“I had always believed that when you win a championship you’re transported to some new, exalted place. 

"What I realized was that you are the same person you were before, and that if you are not content with who you are, a championship, or any accomplishment, isn’t going to change that.” 

It doesn’t mean it’s all a waste of time, of course. Far from it. But there’s a reason the most common advice champions give youngsters is to “enjoy it”.

Because when they reflect on their own journey, they often realise they were happier along the way than when they actually arrived.