Viral Rory McIlroy video isn’t what you think it is — and that’s a problem

I need you to watch this video, but I also need one other thing from you that’s even more important.

I need you to know that it’s fake. So fake. So, so, so, so fake. So fake that I’m willing to help this AI-generated sham rack up more views knowing that, as we grapple with the ever-changing digital world around us, you, for you own edification, might be better off having seen it. 

Take a look here.

OK, did you watch? Looks and sounds real, right? The message is at least semi-believable: Rory McIlroy, fed up and disillusioned in the wake of him and his wife Erica sufferering verbal abuse at the Ryder Cup, declaring that he’s done competing in the United States. 

The clip is so realistic — with public emotions still so charged about how the Ryder Cup played out — that it went viral. As of this writing — two full weeks after the event — it has been viewed 17 million times, been “liked” 596,000 times, received more than 31,000 comments, was reposted more than 8,000 times and, perhaps worst of all, was shared more than 214,000 times.

I was on the receiving end of a few of those shares. 

There is no brag in this, but I’m confident that I’m in the small minority who knew the video was a fraud from the instant I hit play. I’ve been watching Rory McIlroy press conferences for more than a decade now. (I’ve written tens of thousands of words about … his words.) I’ve seen every outfit Nike has scripted him for the majors. (He hasn’t worn that shade of blue in years.) I know that the tournament branding behind him is not from the Bethpage Ryder Cup but from the Winged Foot U.S. Open — five years ago. As the video plays out and your eyes are distracted by the real clips of McIlroy and his family celebrating his April Masters victory, the tenor of his fake voice changes. It starts sounding a lot more scripted, which, of course, it is: a human script delivered by a bot.  

Here’s my worry: The video is damn good and mostly accurate, which makes it an affront to anyone interested in golf, the Ryder Cup or sports at large who also wants to live in a world of whole truths. 

The voice manipulation is so dialed that Fake McIlroy’s Irish accent is nearly indistinguishable from real McIlroy’s; even the way he pronounces the word calm, like comm, is spot on. But McIlroy has never said anything about refusing to compete in America, and he never, ever would. Not only did he start Ryder Cup week saying he believes America is the best country in the world, but the U.S. is also home to a lot of his business. It’s where he plies most of his trade, has millions of adoring fans and lived for many years. It’s his wife’s homeland; it’s where many of his friends live; it’s where he has numerous club memberships and where his father enjoys frequent visits and golf trips.

But maybe you don’t know all that, nor should you be required to, even as AI increasingly manipulates the world in which we live. It’s not about being informed enough on the minutiae of niche topics to suss out fakes. It’s more about having a sharper, more discerning eye (or ears) than ever before. It’s about being more trusting than ever, but with an important catch — being wise about where we place that trust. The otherwise juvenile nature of the account that posted the video makes the episode doubly infuriating. 

The username? @papagamblz. 

The bio: owner of @papapickz, with a link to a Discord channel — you’re forgiven if you don’t know what Discord is! — that offers daily gambling advice for $35 a month. 

So, yes, the perpetrator here is a new-age scam artist peddling doctored real-life moments, representing them as 90% factual but enflaming their most polarizing elements to create disinformation that spreads rapidly across social media. Exhale. All to scrounge a profit off sports gamblers, who — forgive us if we’re taking a leap here — might just be motivated to (1) Scream obscenities at Rory McIlroy’s wife, and (2) Dive into their bank accounts to wager on the nearest, juiciest moneyline. Even more troubling is another recent video from the same account that declares McIlroy is now ‘pressing charges’ against a fan at the Ryder Cup and won’t play in the U.S. until the PGA of America does something about it. 

Again, not true and not close to anything McIlroy has done or would do. But it’s another video on its way to seven-figure views, and was posted five days after the original. Why? Because the Ryder Cup plays into our strongest nationalistic feelings, which is ripe to catch our eyes as we scroll. Because McIlroy is outspoken, and maybe — just maybe — he’d do that, right? And because the post’s creator knows there isn’t enough fact-checking or source-clarifying done on the fringes of anything today. I can certainly tell you if a golf video has been manipulated by AI, but could the guy sitting across from me here in the corner of the coffee shop? Probably not. Just as I — a simple Americano-with-a-dash-of-milk consumer — could be susceptible to AI videos about coffee! 

So, what are we to do?

Put your faith in established media brands. GOLF.com could be one of them; Golf Digest another. Golfweek and Golf Channel, too. ESPN and The Athletic and the Associated Press. Put your faith in people rather than posts. Even better: people putting themselves in posts! Those who put their face and byline ahead of the information they’ve got to share, increasing the stakes for their involvement. Pursue context before perusing comments, the former of which takes undeniably more effort but promises the reward of fact; the latter of which, in the case of this specific AI deep fake, has turned into an unnecessary and unsurprising culture war, only lengthening the distance said video will travel. You have to scroll for a few seconds before finding anyone pointing out that the video is fake.

Which brings this back to me, I suppose, fully aware this video will travel even further now that I’ve gassed it up with 1,200 words of reflection, but I’m also hopeful that as a result of those words, there’s some smarter internet consumption on the other side.