No one ever forgets their first time at The Open.
1986 – TURNBERRY
A change of scene; my first Open as a journalist. Just over a month earlier I had joined the staff at Golf World magazine in London as an “editorial assistant.” So, one week after attending my graduation ceremony at that esteemed educational establishment, the University of Stirling, I was back in Scotland at Turnberry.
Greg Norman won, as you may recall. But bigger in my mind is the second round shot by the Shark. There have been many 63s in male major championships (and one 62) since Johnny Miller set things in motion as long ago as 1973 at Oakmont. But Norman’s has to be the best of them. In awful weather and on a course all but covered in long grass, the Australian played an extraordinary round that ironically ended on a bit of a sour note. Three-putts on the final green was a huge anti-climax, albeit one that did little to diminish the awe I felt at the level of his play.
1987 – MUIRFIELD
Living in London was an experience I’m glad I had, but this Open at Muirfield really was a trip home for me. Nick Faldo would win the first of his three Open titles, but my memory goes first to, again, Greg Norman.
Not long before I had flown to the Isle of Man to play golf with Formula One driver, Nigel Mansell. A close friend of Norman’s and a two-handicap golfer, Mansell was “hot” at the time. As part of the trip a swing sequence of Mansell was shot, one that I presented to Norman for his thoughts over a pint of lager in the Greywalls Hotel.
I can’t remember what Norman said about Mansell’s ungainly action, but I can tell you that he paid for my pint.
Anyway, out on the course I followed all 18 holes of Faldo’s final round. That’s all 18 pars. The shot he hit to the 18th green – courtesy of his newly-reconstructed swing – was the highlight. An arrow-straight 3-iron to such an elusive target was exactly how anyone would want to win their first major.
1990 – ST. ANDREWS
Having missed the previous two Opens because I was now living in the United States in Connecticut, this was a welcome trip home for me. Nick Faldo won, en route seeing off Greg Norman by nine shots (67-76) in the last pairing of the third round. That was hard enough for the Shark, no doubt. But even worse was what I witnessed later.
Standing at the corner of Golf Place (just outside the Dunvegan pub), I was confronted by a long line of cars waiting to leave St. Andrews. In one sat Greg Norman. His window down, Norman hailed by a man as he walked by. “Hey Greg,” he yelled. And as Norman turned to wave, this guy clutched his throat and made loud choking noises. It remains one of the cruellest things I’ve ever seen.
Earlier that same week I had occasion to be standing outside the Scores Hotel, pint in hand, behind the 18th green on the Old Course. For company I had Bob Drum, the larger-than-life American journalist, who had covered Arnold Palmer since the King was just a wee Prince.
Drum had an interesting tale to tell about Arnold’s instruction book, “Hit it Hard.” With the deadline approaching, Palmer was short of time and told Drum he’d have to write the book himself. So, Drum did, by going to his local library, withdrawing six instruction manuals and re-writing a chapter from each. Disgraceful, yes. But also very funny.
1992 – MUIRFIELD
I know, I know, Faldo won again at Muirfield. And yes, his “singing" at the trophy presentation remains one of the most cringe-worthy moments in Open history. And yes, John Cook should have won.
But never mind all that. This was the week that this observer first set eyes on Ernie Els. The then 22-year-old South African made an instant impact on me and everyone else that week before finishing fifth. How could he not? That swing remains one of the most beautiful things in the game almost 30 years later.
1995 – ST. ANDREWS
Flew to Scotland. Got sick. Spent Open week in bed and never saw a shot live. Flew back to America one day later. John Daly won apparently.
Oh, there was one highlight. Before the virus set in, I attended a dinner for winners of the Standard Life Gold Medal, the oldest 72-hole amateur event in the world, at the Leven Golfing Society. In a previous existence I had somehow managed to win it twice on one of Fife’s most underrated links. Also at the dinner was Lee Westwood, another past champion. Often wonder what happened to him.
1996 – ROYAL LYTHAM
Back living in Scotland, I travelled to Lytham as the golf correspondent for the (Glasgow) Herald newspaper. And luck was with me on arrival. I bumped into Dave Musgrove, who had caddied for Seve Ballesteros when the great Spaniard won the Open at Lytham in 1979. Dave and I walked the last six holes, with him talking me through every shot hit by Seve. It was fascinating stuff, with a bit of humour thrown in.
Dave related how he had cajoled his man into getting down in two from short of the 18th green in order to win him some money at the bookies. He had bet on someone finishing under par. As ever, Seve came through.
This Open was notable too for confirming – in his own mind – that Tiger Woods should turn pro sooner rather than later. His 66 in the last round to clinch the amateur medal was just a sign of what was to come.
1999 – CARNOUSTIE
It was a chance encounter at Carnoustie. Minding my own business standing by a cross-walk, a buggy pulled alongside. In it sat one Paul Lawrie, who was heading to the 1st tee and his final round. Ten-shots back, the Scot was aiming to finish high enough to boost his chances of making a Ryder Cup debut later in the year. Not once during our brief chat did, he mention any hope of ultimate victory. Why would he?
A few hours later, of course, Lawrie was hoisting the Claret Jug skywards, having seen off Jean Van de Velde and Justin Leonard in a four-hole play-off. Who would have thought? Certainly not Lawrie.
2000 – ST. ANDREWS
This was the man who has surely played golf better than anyone ever has performing at, or close to, his peerless peak. Three weeks after Tiger won the U.S Open at Pebble Beach by 15 shots, he repeated that dose of overwhelming superiority with an eight-stroke win at the Old Course. It was a privilege to witness both.
That victory came a couple of years after I had dined with Woods, Mark O’Meara and a few others in a back room at the aforementioned Dunvegan. I can’t remember anything he said that night, but my lasting memory is of him vaulting the fence to the side of the 18th fairway and making his way back to the Old Course Hotel in the darkness. It was, one supposes, a rare moment of peace within a life of madness.
2004 – ROYAL TROON
More Ernie. This time a conversation he and I had not long after the big South African lost a play-off at Troon to Todd Hamilton.
“Ernie,” I said. “I can handle you losing the Masters to Phil Mickelson. But Todd Hamilton? Give me a break.”
He could only bow his head and nod in agreement.
2011 – ROYAL ST. GEORGES
I’m going to finish at Royal St. Georges, where we returned to last year. At least for the journalists present, the Monday-morning press conference less than 24-hours after Darren Clarke’s momentous victory was especially memorable. Clarke hadn’t been to his bed and was, not to put too fine a point on it, smashed. It was hilarious, although some stuffed shirts were no doubt tutting away in the background.
As chance would have it, I was in on the early stages of Clarke’s night on the tiles. On Sunday evening, along with a few others, I was invited to the house where he was staying. It was quite a party, as he proved conclusively the following morning.
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