The Open 2019: Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods toil on opening day as JB Holmes takes unlikely lead

On a day of unforgiving bloodletting for Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods, it was the infamously indifferent, slow-playing scourge of JB Holmes who soared to the top of the leaderboard on a rain-drenched opening day at Royal Portrush.

After flurries of thick downpours and gusting winds wreaked lunchtime havoc over the Dunluce Links, the unfancied American took advantage of a late blaze of afternoon sunshine and sodden greens to play his way into a clubhouse lead with methodical precision, carding just a single bogey on the opening hole.

A somewhat unpopular character with supporters due to a lethargic routine that can double for anaesthetic, Holmes had missed the cut in three of his last four major coming into the tournament, but was undeterred as he tapped into a vein of power-walking form to take a one-shot lead over Shane Lowry. The Irishman too benefiting by way of the weather after his dawn start skirted the impending downpour and afforded him a cosy afternoon in the clubhouse.

For hours it appeared that Jon Rahm was primed to become the day's runaway leader. After storming to victory across the border in Lahinch less than a fortnight ago, he blistered to an unmatched five-under-par front-nine. But as his temper blew with irregular bluster to rival the weather, the short-fused Spaniard lost his spark on the 14th hole when a fatted approach had him stamping and seething at the ground below.

Dressed in a padded jacket bearing an uncanny resemblance to a bulletproof vest, the 24-year-old, who previously employed a bomb-disposal expert in a bid to aid his anger, could only quell an explosion with heavy gulps after dragging the resulting par-putt wide of the hole. Another bogey on the 18th left him undeservedly disconsolate and marred what had otherwise been the day’s purest display of ball-striking.

He joins a pack that features a remarkable 14 players two-shots off the lead, spearheaded by Brooks Koepka who started in familiarly looming form on his chase for a major victory, carding just a single birdie, despite bearing the brunt of the midday weather.

There was also grace to be shed for England’s barren run in the majors, that stretches back to Danny Willett’s improbable Masters victory in 2016, with a lively contingent perched amongst those on three-under-par, including Tyrrell Hatton, Lee Westwood and young Ashton Turner, who missed the cut by seven shots at Carnoustie last year.

But, in truth, it was an opening day marked by downfalls. Tiger Woods, despite his empty insistence that his lack of preparation was a work of meticulous planning, toiled miserably over 18 bruising, purple-cheeked holes bereft of any highlights. So despairing had he become that by the time he made his first birdie of the day on the 15th hole, the 15-time major champion could only lift a tired arm in irony and relief to the sympathy of the gallery. Really, it was little more than the white flag of surrender.

Still struggling with his ever-fragile back and wearing a tired expression that yearned for the day to be over, his seven-over-par finish was his worst score on the opening day of an Open for 17 years and left him paddling at the depths of the leaderboard. After his cathartic return to glory at Augusta, the questions only bolden over whether that victory may also have made way for satisfaction and sapped a bite of the 43-year-old’s hunger.

But at least he has the shoulders of Rory McIlroy to prop upon. The Northern Irishman and favourite heading into the week endured a tragic round on his homecoming, drowning in a cloak of nerves after skewing his tee-shot out of bounds on the first-tee en route to a quadruple-bogey and finishing with a dire triple that left him on eight-over-par and in tie for 150th place.

For all this week’s gushing over Portrush’s majesty and the romanticism of The Open’s return, Thursday was a reminder that for all its beauty, this is a punishing links that bares its teeth and is raged over by a sky that changes its mind every hour. A rainbow may have basked over Portrush in the evening twilight as the last stragglers made their way in, but this was a day that promised a battle of gruelling attrition rather than the setting to a North Antrim fairytale. Just as it was made to be.