It’s not hard to spot the biggest potential liability of “The Masters Wait,” Amazon Prime’s new documentary on the inside story of Rory McIlroy’s stirring Grand Slam victory in Augusta National last April.
It’s right there in the credits and paragraph 1 of the doc’s press release: Firethorn Productions.
Firethorn, a nod to Augusta National’s famed par-5 15th hole, is the name of Rory McIlroy’s production shop, which McIlroy’s team launched to produce content about the five-time major winner. McIlroy is not the first athlete to start a manufacturing company. He’s not even the first golfer to do so – Rickie Fowler started his studio in 2022, after a host of other famous athletes (LeBron James, Steph CurryPeyton Manning) seeking to own some of their likenesses and stories.
For athletes, the benefit of a media camera is manifold—launching new TV shows, boosting their brands, building career after career—but in the case of documentary filmmaking, the goal is usually one: editorial control.
The logic is simple. Making a celebrity documentary has tremendous advantages: the money to be made from broadcasting companies, networks and sponsors, the fame to be gained from fans, the impact to be created by telling your story. But there’s also a tremendous risk: if you say something the wrong way, or if your story isn’t as clean as it seems, your moment in the sun can quickly turn into reputational suicide, with weeks of internet roasting.
For the celebrities at the center of these films, editorial control is the key to the skeleton. If you want to make a documentary about, say, John Stamos – that’s fine! Just give him the chance to tell you what to include and what to leave out; in this way he can ensure that his reputation remains intact. In return, the company or broadcast network will get all the access they need to execute the vision for the film, which in many cases would be impossible (or unprofitable) without the subject’s involvement.
The liability here is that celebrities (and their handlers) often have the risk tolerance of hydrogen bomb technicians, unwilling to allow anything that might compromise within 100 miles of “interesting” into the final film edit. This can lead to stories that are stripped of essential quality and detail, and hover somewhere between uninteresting and implausible.
it it’s the outcome I feared when I heard McIlroy’s company was involved in the production of “The Masters Wait,” which will begin streaming on Amazon Prime on March 30. I worried that the greatest sporting moment I’ve ever seen in the flesh would be reduced to a story that felt flat and predetermined. That there would be none of the nausea, horror and disbelief that accompanies the live viewing experience. That McIlroy’s endorsement of history meant it would be diminished, in some substantial way.
But I had made a fundamental mistake in my accounting: the sensitivity of the star of the series.
On The Masters Wait, McIlroy is remarkably quirky and honest. In his interviews, which were shot during several sessions with director Drea Cooper, McIlroy isn’t whitewashed or particularly protective of his image. He candidly addresses the difficulties of his drought, admitting that he began to “begrudge” management for their role in the sport. He talks about his previous big failures with painful specificity, admitting that some of the angst left over from his 2011 Masters probably crumbles STILL lives in his subconscious. He even shares a previously unreported story of a 2025 Masters Sunday showdown with Bryson DeChambeau which makes both players look a bit small.
“For us, in the beginning, it was about setting some ground rules very clearly and understanding where everybody sits,” Cooper, the director, told me.. “To his credit, we made this film independently. Rory’s input was huge in helping with accessibility, helping us connect with others.”
To these ends, McIlroy worked the phones – setting up filming in Northern Ireland and Augusta with film crews in late 2025 and persuading three media-shy celebrities to attend: Augusta National and Rory’s loving parents, Gerry and Rosie. The last two voices are the film’s strength.
“After we did Rory’s first big interview,” Cooper said, “he turned to me and our producer and said, ‘Look, that was a great conversation. And, you know, I really think this movie could benefit from my mom and dad listening. So let me see if I can work for them.” And he did.”
Even McIlroy’s persuasiveness has its limits, however, and so does the caddy Harry Diamond is a glaring omission. Diamond, who is one of McIlroy’s oldest friends, is media shy and declined his boss’ request for an interview. Diamond’s account of one of the most memorable rounds of the 21st century is reduced to film on the CBS course microphones.
“We tried our hardest. We thought we got close, and then we didn’t make it, and then we tried again and again,” Cooper said of Diamond. “To Rory’s credit, he did ask. But that’s not what Harry does.”
In the end, McIlroy’s weakness is the documentary’s biggest (and most pleasant) surprise. And yet, surprisingly, McIlroy himself also represents the film’s biggest challenge – which is that his story is not yet complete.
Yes, McIlroy’s Masters triumph was the pinnacle of his career up to this point. It would be remiss to tell the tale of that Sunday without touching on the entire story that preceded it, from McIlroy’s childhood dreams to his anxieties of the past decade and a half. But McIlroy’s career did not END on that magical Sunday—and he was understandably jaded about the documentary being framed on that lens.
“I was probably a little reluctant at first because I was like, you know, I’m not done with my career yet and maybe I want to do a documentary eventually,” McIlroy said. “But I talked to several people who have gone through that process, different athletes, and I think the common theme was: It doesn’t have to be an indicator of your entire life; it may simply be a snapshot in time of this particular moment.”
This thought drives the narrative arc of the story, but also explains why the film feels incomplete.
“It’s a moment in time,” McIlroy said. “It’s a photograph. It’s not about my whole life. It’s just about my journey to finish the Slam. Again, I think it would be wrong not to document it in some way, and we thought this was the best approach.”
For those looking for a closer look at the golfer and tournament that turned the sport on its head, The Masters Wait is a complete and excellent account of that history. But if you want to know how you really win lateand why it felt that way, a 90-minute look back is not enough.
Perhaps one day the time will come to capture the entirety of Rory McIlroy’s story in all its horrific truth. If that day is to come, one can only hope that an open-minded star will step up to the plate to capture it.
;)
