Meghan Markle had one condition when Rory McIlroy nominated her for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge: he had to fly to New York and do it himself. He did. What happened next—according to Tom Bower’s 2022 book—involved the Fitzpatrick Hotel, a “hectic night,” and a 74 at The Barclays the following morning.

That was August 2014. Now, more than a decade later, the clip is circulating again—not as celebrity nostalgia, but as internet folklore explaining why McIlroy entered 2026 without a Knighthood. The theory sounds absurd on its face. But in the polarized landscape of post-2020 royal coverage, absurdity travels fast.

McIlroy’s 2025 season left nothing to interpretation. He conquered Augusta in April, becoming the first European to complete the career Grand Slam. He led Team Europe to a Ryder Cup victory on American soil—the first since 2012. He collected the BBC Sports Personality of the Year, joining only two other golfers in the award’s seven-decade history. The Players Championship. The Irish Open. A seventh Race to Dubai title.

Yet when the 2026 New Year’s Honours list dropped, his name was absent. The Cabinet Office declined to comment. Stormont, the devolved administration in Belfast, had officially nominated him. The expectation was a Knighthood. The result was silence.

Into that vacuum rushed speculation. And one theory, however flimsy, gained traction: the Markle connection.

The Ice Bucket Challenge itself was harmless charity theatre. McIlroy, then world No. 1 and fresh off Open Championship and PGA Championship victories, nominated Markle—then starring in Suits—for the viral ALS campaign. She accepted, but with a stipulation: he had to drench her personally. He flew to New York, climbed a stepladder on her friend’s balcony, and dumped ice water over her head while she shrieked and laughed.

The video went viral. Markle nominated Serena Williams, George W. Bush, and Wayne Rooney. The moment passed.

What followed, according to Bower’s Revenge: Meghan, Harry and the War Between the Windsors, was a night at the Fitzpatrick Hotel in Manhattan.

“After the video was posted, the two went to the Fitzpatrick hotel for a drink,” Bower wrote. “The following morning, McIlroy arrived at the Ringwood golf course to play in a new competition. Worse for wear after a hectic night, he fell back to 101st place.”

The tournament was The Barclays, the opening event of the FedEx Cup playoffs, held at Ridgewood Country Club in New Jersey. McIlroy shot a 3-over 74 in round one—seven fairways hit, 32 putts—and found himself tied for 102nd out of 122 players.

“I wasn’t quite on my game,” he admitted afterward. “I was enjoying myself.”

He rallied to finish tied for 22nd. The following week, he won the Deutsche Bank Championship. The stumble became a footnote.

Until now. Online speculation has resurrected the anecdote as supposed evidence of “diplomatic baggage”—the idea that McIlroy’s decade-old association with the Duchess of Sussex, now estranged from the Royal Family after stepping back from duties in 2020, somehow complicates his path to royal recognition.

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The reality behind Rory McIlroy’s honours gap

The theory makes for entertaining content. It makes for poor analysis.

The UK honours system operates on bureaucracy, not gossip. HMRC vets all nominations and can place a “red flag” on candidates with unresolved tax concerns—halting an honour before it ever reaches the Prime Minister or the King. No public explanation is required.

McIlroy was reportedly involved in a 2015 investment scheme—the Business Premises Renovation Allowance—that drew HMRC scrutiny. No illegal activity was found. No suggestion exists that McIlroy acted improperly. But within the honours framework, perception and probity carry weight.

The precedent is David Beckham. In 2011, the legendary footballer was nominated for a Knighthood. HMRC placed a red flag on his file due to alleged tax avoidance connected to Ingenious Films. For fourteen years, his honour remained in limbo. He finally received it in June 2025.

McIlroy’s situation mirrors that trajectory. No BBC Sports Personality of the Year winner has been denied the honours upgrade for nearly a decade, making his omission a unique first. But unique doesn’t mean permanent.

The Markle theory reveals more about the cultural moment than the honours process. Any association with the Duchess—however dated, however innocent—has become a lightning rod in fractured royal discourse. The 2014 Ice Bucket Challenge was a charity stunt between a golfer and an actress. The internet has recast it as evidence in a conspiracy about institutional pettiness.

McIlroy’s achievements remain. The career Grand Slam. The Ryder Cup captaincy. The green jacket. The “Sir” may yet arrive—through paperwork, not penance. But the belief that a bucket of ice water could block a Knighthood says everything about how deep the royal rift now runs in public imagination.