Thought for the Day:
Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?
A (Scottish) Sense of Perspective
During the early part of last week at the Dunhill Links Championship it was noticeable that everyone, it seemed, was still on a high from the Ryder Cup, with one notable exception. I spoke with, among others, Peter Hanson and Thomas Bjorn – who had been at Medinah as player and vice-captain respectively – Thomas Levet, Bob Torrance, Chubby Chandler and, to get an American perspective, Huey Lewis (sans The News). Every one of them was more than happy to chat, indefinitely it appeared, about the astonishing events of the previous Sunday.
The one exception was Paul Lawrie. He was polite, as he always is, but refused to be swept along in the euphoria. He acknowledged that it was a great win but then added: ‘But that’s done and I’m here now to prepare for this week’s tournament. Life goes on.’
He was ever the same, which is one of the reasons I like him so much. He is the absolute antithesis of the strutting star who complains if the courtesy car is 10 minutes late, or who refuses to acknowledge fans who want an autograph or picture or just to say: ‘Well done’. It makes interviewing him a bit of a nightmare, though, because he has never really enjoyed talking about himself or his feelings. Ask him for a hole-by-hole guide to the Old Course at St Andrews – which I had to do for an American magazine a few years back – and he is thoughtful, articulate and considered in his replies, which he gives at length. But ask him what he feels when he’s playing there and you get almost nothing. He will chat happily about the game, courses, tournaments and even other players but try to get an insight into his emotions and you’re quickly heading into a conversational cul-de-sac.
I don’t know if it’s a Scottish thing because I found Catriona Matthew to be exactly the same. Both appear to be slightly puzzled as to why anyone would want to know what they are feeling at any given time. For a journalist it can be frustrating but it’s also quite refreshing to meet people who are outstandingly good at what they do and yet steadfastly refuse to believe that supreme talent in one sphere is in any way indicative of their worth as a person.
Welcome back
Sport has an unrivalled ability to produce stories of human drama that capture the imagination and make our pulse throb just that little bit faster. The young gun who bursts from nowhere to become a champion, for example; the journeyman who struggles for years and finally tastes victory when it seemed he never would; or the two great champions slugging it out in a head-to-contest in which all other competitors merely make up the numbers. But for me, the sporting story with greatest resonance is that of the fallen champ who makes a comeback long after being written off as someone in terminal decline. We watch them perform at a level that is depressingly lower than their talent deserves, saddled, it seems, with a naïve belief that one day something will click and they will return to former glories. More often than not they simply continue to slide. Sandy Lyle springs to mind.
So while most papers and magazines will, quite correctly, be telling the story of Shane Lowry winning the Portugal Masters by a stroke from Ross Fisher, my attention was focused on the fact that New Zealander Michael Campbell came third. Since winning the US Open in 2005, holding off Tiger Woods at the magnificent Pinehurst number 2 course, he has been in the slump of all slumps, and this is not hyperbole. So woeful was his form that at one point he was not even included in the official World Golf Rankings, having fallen outside the top 1,300. And in 2010 he teed up in 19 European Tour events and failed to make the cut 18 times. In the one event where he did play all four rounds he finished 79th. But so far this season he has made 17 starts and played at the weekend seven times. It’s still not world-beating but nevertheless very welcome. And to emphasise what an excellent tournament this was for the Kiwi, his 12-under par total represents the first time in nine years he has shot four consecutive rounds in the 60s.
Michael would not be human if he had not come close to despair over the last seven years and yet somehow he has continued to believe. On his own website he says: ‘I am just happy to be up there now and just in contention. I felt very calm out there once again.
‘It’s surprising, I haven’t been amongst it for such a long time. Felt like yesterday. It’s incredible. I felt very much in control of my emotions and very much in control of my golf swing, so it’s a nice feeling.’
It’s also nice for those of us who can only watch.
Quote of the Week
You can shoot your lowest score ever and still feel as though you could have done better
Robert Allenby
