The Port Arthur News
July 15, 2008 09:12 pm
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For those who may have wondered where the author of this column has been lately, the answer is exploring some of the world’s greatest golf courses on the dream vacation of a lifetime. Indulge me while I take you along for the ride.
The trip was the brainchild of Ron Ashworth, my best friend from long ago childhood days in Centralia, Mo. We’ve stayed in touch through golf, always play together in two or three tournaments a year and have shared numerous summer junkets to prime-time golfing locales.
None of them, however, could touch this one on the memorability scale.
Over the course of 11 days in Scotland and Ireland, we played 12 rounds on seven spectacular layouts that are listed inside the world top 50 by Golf magazine’s 2007 rankings.
Two of them — St. Andrews Old Course (No. 3) and Royal County Down (No. 7) — are in the top 10. Three more — Royal Portrush (No. 12), Royal Dornoch (No 18) and Turnberry Ailsa (19) fall within the top 20. Other stops on this triumphant tour were Royal Troon (No. 44) and Portmarnock (No. 49).
Our ranking upon sinking the final putts would be considerably different. St. Andrews, for instance, seemed vastly overrated, sort of like Pebble Beach is. On the other hand, when you factor in the historical implications, it was the most special of all.
I just wish my caddie hadn’t screwed up the picture of Ron and I, posing like Jack and Arnie, atop the famed Swilican Bridge on the 18th hole.
Rather than go into detail on the various courses — that will be done along with photos at a later date in the Golf Plus section — the purpose today is to offer some general observations about things we encountered and how different the game of golf is across the big pond.
The only downside of the experience was having the weakness of the America dollar hit home when exchanging it for pounds (Scotland and Northern Ireland) and Euros (Dublin). Yes, they operate on two different currencies within Ireland, which made life much more complicated for a Texan trying to figure it all out.
Think having to use a different kind of money in Dallas as opposed to Houston. Plus all their paper money looks like it came out of Monopoly game. But nothing is more painful than plunking down roughly $2.20 for a pound or a Euro.
From a golfing standpoint, the differences are as dramatic as night and day. For openers, riding carts are few and far between, and the only way you can get access to one is to have a letter from a doctor. In the course of 12 rounds, I saw one guy riding.
Everybody else either takes a caddie, carries their own clubs or rents a pull cart. Except you don’t refer to it as that. The proper term is a trolley.
We always took a caddie the first trip around anything we played, strictly because local knowledge as you wind through dunes and heather is a must. How else would you know a certain rock is the aiming point on a blind hole?
Beyond that, many of the caddies are right out of central casting. Grizzled and somewhat cynical, they can really be a hoot. Our caddies at Royal Troon, which is hosting the British Senior Open next week, talked about one of Scotland’s favorite golfing sons — Colin Montgomery — like he was a rabid dog.
Thing was, Monty grew up playing Royal Troon because his father was the club secretary for years. But the caddies had no use for him. Mine carried his clubs for six weeks on the European Tour and said it was the most stressful time of his life.
Besides expecting everyone to walk, the next biggest difference in golfing philosophy is the expectation that you play the game quickly. Twosomes are expected to complete 18 holes in three hours, while foursomes are allotted four hours.
Take longer, and you may need a pardon from the Queen.
At St. Andrews, we got a slow-play warning coming off the second green and the guy shadowed us for the next four holes. It wasn’t so much Ron and I, but the two German students who were paired with us and were a bit wild. That didn’t make any difference to the high sheriff.
The irony of it all was that by the 10th tee play was backed up. We waited on most shots on the back nine, and wound up taking about 4:20 to complete the round. Fortunately, we didn’t have to post bail to leave town.
Getting on the Old Course was the biggest challenge of the trip. Everything else was pre-booked and pre-paid. But we couldn’t crack the Old Course, which is one of seven layouts in the massive golf factory operated by the St. Andrews Links Trust.
Ultimately, it took a fellow from Liberty, Texas, to ride to our rescue. Jack Willoughby, who left Liberty many years ago and wind up settling in St. Andrews with his Scottish bride, bought the Dunvegan Hotel and Bar in the 1980s. The Dunvegan, by the way, sits about a 7-iron from the 18th at the Old Course.
Ed Fowler, a former columnist with the Houston Chronicle, had made me aware of Willoughby and suggested I get in touch with him. He readily agreed to put our names in a Saturday drawing — they call it a ballot — for available tee times on the Monday we had open on our schedule. Amazingly, our names were pulled out.
Thanks again, Jack. And the steak at your place was excellent.
One other pertinent morsel on the Old Course. It’s shut down every Sunday and becomes the largest picnic ground in Scotland. It was so strange to look out over the course the day before we played and see kids and dogs running everywhere.
Well, everywhere but the greens.
The Old Course was also one of three courses on the trip where you had to show an official handicap card before playing. If your handicap was over 24, you were turned away. Probably because you couldn’t possibly pack enough golf balls to finish 18 holes.
Weather, of course, is always a factor for golfers in Scotland and Northern Ireland. We may have had one day with a temperature over 65. Rare was the opportunity to see the sun. Nearly as rare was not having to battle winds of over 30-35 miles per hour.
It was blowing so hard at Royal Troon, I absolutely crushed a driver to reach a 183-yard par 3. Going in the opposite direction, I hit a 9-iron into a 160-yard par 3.
Next to your clubs and shoes, the essential equipment to play their golf was a rain suit and umbrella. Only a wimp walks off in the rain. We had a day at Royal County Down when the rain was coming down almost sideways at times. Soaked to the bone and cussing, we still finished in the allotted time.
Turns out they’ve had such a rainy late spring and early summer that all the golf courses have the lush, green look of what you see in America. And they hate it. On two different occasions, the starter half apologized and half complained that the fairways didn’t have the nice yellowish-brown hue that’s preferred.
Ron and I just shook our heads.
Among other lingering memories was the almost never-ending daylight. Darkness didn’t close in until near 11 p.m. and there was light again by 4 a.m. It was no big deal to see somebody teeing after 6:30 p.m. Considering how bad and limited their television is, late tee times are not a bad idea.
Great as the golf was — and every course was truly exceptional — it’s good to be home.
Sports editor Bob West can be e-mailed at rdwest@usa.net. His Sportsrap radio show airs Mondays at 7:05 p.m. on KLVI (560-AM).
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