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Publisher's
Essay
Doing it right all along
British Isles continue to cherish the traditions and charms of golf
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John Bodenhamer
Publisher |
Prior to my first trip a few months ago to golf's holy land -
Scotland, England and Ireland - I developed expectations about what I
would experience.
Those expectations were built largely on the perceptions of friends
who had visited and accounts I had read - all flavored with a little of
my own imagination.
It was all I dreamed it would be and more.
In the midst of the trip, I felt something deep in my golfing soul
that at first I could not quite identify. As I walked the fairways of
Royal Liverpool Golf Club, as Bobby Jones had done en route to a
British Open victory during his Grand Slam of 1930, it hit me like a
gust of wind off the Irish Sea. There is a level of respect for the
traditions of the game in the British Isles that rarely surfaces in
North America. This is borne out in several ways.
At the great links courses, the reverence for the caddie, the trolley
(pull cart) and walking is front and center. I do not recall seeing a
motorized golf cart. Practice ranges also are the exception. You just
put on your rain gear, hit a few putts, and off the first tee you go.
Golf balls were difficult to come by when the first links courses were
built and practice ranges remain a low priority. Ball washers, fancy
tee markers, and paved cart paths just aren't present. And don't even
think about falling behind the group ahead, as this shows the ultimate
disrespect for the game. You also rarely see palatial clubhouses.
Rather, they are charming, understated and functional.
We were welcomed warmly everywhere we went and were frequently
afforded tours of the grounds and the clubhouses. It was as if the
guardians of these great places relished in sharing their treasure with
others who hold the game in high regard. Everything is so wonderfully
old and well preserved. It is as if time has stood still for 150 years
and the ghost of Old Tom Morris is ever present.
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| John Bodenhamer stops at Prestwick Golf Club, where Old Tom Morris hit the opening
tee shot of the very first British Open in 1860. |
If Prestwick Golf Club (Scotland) was built in North America today,
with its blind shots, drivable par-4s, and incredibly quirky greens,
people would scoff and ridicule it. But the site of the very first
British Open in 1860 is a monument to the game in its purest, natural
form. There was no earthmoving equipment when Prestwick was created in
the mid-1800s. That natural look and feel remains today and it is
marvelous.
Adjacent to Prestwick's 15th hole is a stone monument long ago erected
to commemorate Old Tom Morris' opening tee shot with his feathery ball
in that inaugural Open Championship. It was a powerful moment to stand
on that spot and look out over the windswept dunes and gorse of this
ancient place and imagine what it must have been like to hit that first
shot in that storied championship in 145 years ago.
Most all the courses have a designated starter, who wields tight
control of the tee. I will never forget one particular starter who was
a large and proper man in his 50s, adorned in a navy sport coat and
regimental tie who guarded the first tee like a proud father watches
over his child. When my friend Mike (who will go further unnamed)
jumped up on the first tee at our starting time and proceeded to place
his tee in the ground so as to not fall behind the group in front, we
immediately heard a commanding Scottish voice say, "I will tell you
when you can tee your ball."
The memories of famous holes, champions and shots from years gone by
are all around. The par-3 dubbed the "postage stamp" at Royal Troon
where Gene Sarazen made his famous hole-in-one, the original "Hogan's
Alley" at Carnoustie that the "Wee Ice Mon" mastered in 1953, and the
infamous road hole where so many have met disaster at the Old Course at
St. Andrews are just a few special holes that are testaments to
historical tradition.
Best of all, the clubs that are home to these memories have each also
usually enshrined these precious bits of golf history in their
clubhouses.
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| Encountering a gnarly lie at Northern Ireland's Royal County Down Golf Club. |
The Old Course at St. Andrews was especially meaningful. Hitting from
the first tee with the gray-stoned clubhouse of the Royal & Ancient
Golf Club standing sentinel in the background and finishing by crossing
the famous Swilcan Bridge that Roman Legions had crossed centuries ago
was simply awe-inspiring. At the same time, it was an intimate setting
as the public meanders about parts of the course and the R&A clubhouse
in a public-park-like atmosphere. There is nothing pretentious about
the birthplace of the game.
The Scots, English and Irish have it right. Keep the course natural,
the surroundings understated and the attitudes welcoming. Above all,
showcase the game's history and traditions, as they are not easily
earned and must be respected. I found it to be an inspiring elixir and
cannot wait to return for another sip.
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