Thought for the Day:
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something
Els bells
In all the excitement of Luke Donald’s playoff win in the Transitions Championship, and in the process going back to world number one, there was nevertheless a sad aspect to it all and that was the sight of Ernie Els. He is, without question, the greatest golfer called Ernie to have ever played the game but like so many before him, and a few of his contemporaries, he has discovered that age for a Tour pro does not bring wisdom but an unreliable putting stroke. The swing is still that beautifully fluid concoction reminiscent of pouring syrup over ice cream, and it still propels the ball a considerable distance, usually in the right direction. As a result, on the 16th hole he was leading the tournament at 14-under par but missed a four-foot birdie putt. He then bogied the 17th and on the last missed another four-footer – this one badly pulled.
Ernie needed the win to get into the world’s top-50 and with it gain automatic exemption for the Masters, and his chances to make the field at Augusta National are fast diminishing. During a brief post-round interview he looked as if he’d just been mugged at gunpoint and was barely able to answer the two (rather asinine) questions he was asked, but at least the interviewer had the sense to recognise that Ernie’s brain was about to short-circuit and cut the interview short.
Golf writers are supposed to remain neutral and simply report on what we see, with an occasional bit of opinion thrown in for colour, but we can’t help rooting for certain players for a whole host of reasons, some legitimate and others downright absurd. For example, I have always had a liking for Scotsman Alastair Forsyth. I played with him once in a pro-am at Fuerteventura and asked if he realised that, to hackers like me, he was seen as the golfing equivalent of a male porn star. I went on to explain that every week he did something supremely well that millions of men around the world struggled to do very badly. Despite this bizarre introduction he was extraordinarily patient, generous and, once he realised that anything he said was off the record, open.
I first met Ernie Els many years ago when the Benson & Hedges used to be played at St Mellion in Cornwall. He was the hot young sensation from South Africa and yet, from that day to this, his demeanour, manners and essential goodness have never altered, and there aren’t too many of the golf world’s top stars about whom that can be said. It is almost unthinkable that he will probably not be at Augusta and yet a part of me hopes that he doesn’t get into the Masters field – watching him trying to negotiate those greens would be almost be too painful.
Ultimate penultimates
Much is made of the need to have a strong finishing hole at tournament venues but, in America in particular, this usually means a long par four with water along one side and guarding the green. Their similarity does not produce drama so much as a sense of ‘Been there, seen that, got the T-shirt.’ At so many great courses it is not the 18th but the 17th that occupies a player’s mind long before he reaches it. Johnny Miller once said that every course should have a hole that puckers your rear end and more often than not that hole is the penultimate one. The greatest illustration of this can be found at the Old Course in St Andrews, which has thankfully been restored to its former glory by pushing the tee back 40 yards. Almost as famous is the notorious island green at Sawgrass, created by Pete Dye by accident, and subsequently copied numerous times around the world. Dye originally meant it to have water up the right side but during construction he found a rare pocket of sand – which was needed elsewhere for developing fairways – and by the time they had finished excavating the sand, all that was left on 17 was a big hole. Dye later confessed: ‘We had this big hole in the ground without any green. Alice [Dye’s wife] said: “Why not just make an island green?”’
And then there’s Valderrama, with that brutal par five with water at the front, guarding a green that slopes drastically from back to front. It was always tough but once Seve tweaked it for the 1997 Ryder Cup it became harder than a harlot’s heart.
A good 17th gets under your skin. It worries you, as it should, both in anticipation and execution. It’s like an examination paper that offers a few manageable, relatively straightforward questions before suddenly asking you to explain, in words of three syllables or less, Einstein’s theory of relativity. Or the partner who enquiries, as you’re about to leave the house: ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ It’s the unanswerable question, the ultimate challenge, and if you screw it up there’s no time to make amends or undo the damage you have done.
Consider Carnoustie, with a daunting 17th that Paul Lawrie insists was the key hole in his Open victory of 1999. A precise drive to a virtual island of fairway, with the Barry Burn waiting for anything slightly pulled, has to be followed by a long iron to a well-guarded green you can’t see, in a dell, angled away from you.
And then there’s Kiawah Island, Royal Troon et al. The list goes on.
Footnote
On a slightly different subject, I thought I would mention that Sky Sports is now covering the Formula 1 Grand Prix season. I suspect you may have missed any mention of it.
Quote of the Week:
A good round of golf is if you hit about three shots that turn out exactly as you planned them
Ben Hogan