Following the Great Rebellion of Kerry Packer’s World Series Cricket series, in which Dennis Lillee, Viv Richards and the Chappell brothers wore coloured clothing and played “Super Tests” under floodlights with a, gasp, white ball, Australian cricket reunited for season 1979/80.
And it was all a bit new.
The “C’mon Aussie” anthem posed the question “will it be ‘The Rocket’ Rodney Hogg?” and our sporting nation genuinely wondered if it would be.
Richie Benaud sat side saddle in the broadcast booth in a series of ivory and bone sports coats, and we all did his voice, as we did that of Tony Greig, Bill Lawry and Max Walker.
No-one of course did it better than the great Billy Birmingham who parlayed his skilful smart-arsery into platinum record sales, many millions of dollars, and membership at Royal Sydney GC.
But the best new thing about that cricket season, which was sponsored by the upmarket cigarettes of Benson & Hedges, and sported Test matches against England and the West Indies and a 50-over tri-series, was a competition called “Classic Catches”, in which viewers could vote for the best catch of the summer by sending their selection on the back of a stamped, self-addressed envelope to the Channel Nine studios in Willoughby.
There were some rippers.
Desmond Haynes took a cracker diving forward, Derek Randall leapt for a one-hander like a soccer goalkeeper, and the great Ian Botham parried a back foot drive by Alvin Kallicharran into the air before diving full stretch to pouch one of the great caught-and-bowleds.
And all of it was chronicled by the super-excited octaves of Tony and Bill and Tangles Walker, and the spare, understated vowels of Captain Cool himself, the great Richie B.
They were classic times, classic hits, classic memories.
All of which is a long and perhaps torturous segue to the opinion that there is nothing classic about the John Deere Classic.
What a yawn-fest, even with all those birdies. Maybe because of all those birdies. The worst of Target Golf. Hit a fairway, hit a green. Don’t think. Repeat. Man who putt best win. With 28-stupid-under.
It was as classic as a meme on TikTok. It’d be like calling your 2019 Mazda 6 a classic car. It was a fine example of the worst PGA tournaments: generic, a template of last week, a box-ticking exercise, a sap to a sponsor hocking combine harvesters.
A 25-year-old American you’ve never heard of won the thing with the greatest strokes gained something-something, never really understood the statistic and I’m good with that becausezzzz.
Davis Thompson appears to be another product from the conveyer-belt of fun-free, privileged, lettermen from college in those cardigans like Ralph Malph and Potsie used to wear, loping along, tall, blank, nothing going on, two surnames.
He didn’t smile in 72 holes. Sure, there’s no rule he has to. Some guys can rock that Terminator look. And right now there'd be pro golfers and sports psych types saying Thompson's demeanour was what won it for him. Not too high, not too low. Flatline your way to victory.
But sheehite militia, man - you could give people some inkling what you're thinking, especially if you want to, you know, entertain those viewers consuming your sport.
Just a thought, Davo. You do you, champion.
More entertainment was found on the Asian Tour's International Series Morocco, where LIV Golf reserve Ben Campbell (New Zealand) rolled in a bomb to beat fellow LIV aspirant John Catlin (USA) on the first playoff hole.
The $US2 million tournament was held on the Red Course at Royal Golf Dar Es Salam, among what looked like eucalypts in the North African city of Morocco.
Now, I'm not saying it was Circe De Soleil on ice in the nude with firecrackers. The course was a tree-lined bit of kit with primary and secondary cuts. The golfers appeared to be at work.
But there was something about it, something exotic, perhaps. Maybe it was just different. Maybe it was just the shorts.
The leaderboard was a cosmopolitan mix of players, drawn by the lure of LIV Golf riches. Campbell almost teared up in the post-match interview. There was something riding on it.
As there was, granted, at the dear old Deere, not least a spot in the Masters of 2025.
And if two-dads Davo would suggest that I nick off and make love with myself while he plays golf at Augusta National, you'd suggest that's a fair cop.
Yet both tournaments were reserve grade. Second division. The pro tournaments you have when the best players in the world are doing something else.
The LIV schism has meant the major championships have been elevated higher in status again as the only tournaments that do feature the world’s best players.
The Players Championship isn’t a fifth major anymore, if it ever was. It’s just all the top-ranked PGA Tour players.
What to do? It’s obvious to me as a fan: give all the world’s players unfettered access to play whatever tour they wish to, and play whatever tournament will have them.
PGA guys could make cameos on LIV and vice-versa.
You think the suits at John Deere wouldn’t want Bryson DeChambeau and John Rahm in the event they sponsor? Would these players' appearance mean more eyeballs on Massey Fergusons or less?
Similarly, at each LIV tournament, there could be a PGA Tour player, either earning points for the Crushers or Torque, or as a one-man wildcard.
Elsewhere, the PGA Championship should remain a ‘major’ championship but go to a different continent each year, as a promising young sportswriter opined within this e-pages.
And all the national open championships should be pumped full of money and OWGR points, and our dear, sweet, insane American cousins can – looking at you, Patrick Cantlay – travel to other parts of the world and do the right thing by world golf.
You know, the place outside America.
Less John Deere Classics. More actual ones. Build it, never know, they might come.
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