A number of years ago, perhaps more than I now care to admit, it was my good fortune to attend the University of Cambridge. It would be wrong to claim that this extraordinarily happy period of my life involved any activity that can be accurately described as study. I do not recall being inconvenienced by anything more than very occasional attendance at lectures, tutorials or indeed contact of any kind with the academic staff of the university, beyond the bare minimum required to obtain a Masters degree.
Looking back this may have been a missed opportunity which should perhaps now be regretted. But like other mistakes made at the age of twenty it seemed a good idea at the time. One thing I did learn, however, was that England’s weather in late May is often bad. Fortunately, in Cambridge this coincided with the end of the academic year exams.
By the start of June these were over and invariably the sun came out, the temperature rose and the remaining precious two weeks of term could be devoted to pleasure with such dedication that even Violetta, the heroine of La Traviata, would have found it hard to match.
Driving down the M2 to Sandwich from London through torrential rain on Tuesday afternoon I therefore began to regret arranging five rounds of golf spread over three days with two separate groups of American friends at Royal St George’s, starting next morning. But I need not have worried. Wednesday dawned overcast but dry and not a drop of rain fell on us until we were walking in from our afternoon round.
Even better was the magnificent condition of the course which drew lavish and fully deserved praise from our guests, not all of whom had played it before. This is the fruit of much hard work by head green keeper Greig Easton and his excellent team, overseen by the eagle eye of the Chairman of the Green Liam Brown.
This week the course was noticeably more difficult than before the rough started growing in earnest a month or so ago. Until then it was possible to hit a six iron from almost anywhere. Now, even within five yards of the edge of the fairway, the rough is so thick that in some places only a sand iron can be used to get back on the short grass.
Wednesday was devoted to a series of 36 hole foursome matches. For new readers all references to “foursomes” in Only Friends You Haven’t Yet Met mean two ball alternate shot foursomes. These games were played against members of The Dinner Match Society, a group of extremely civilised east coast Americans, to which I am lucky enough to belong. TDMS members know the perfect day’s golf is two rounds of foursomes with a very leisurely lunch in the middle and concluding with dinner.
This day’s results need not be dwelt on though they were very satisfactory. I pay a warm tribute to my playing partner, who prefers to remain anonymous, for inspiring a much needed improvement in my own game. With the aid of excellent caddies we were back in the clubhouse before 6 pm, leaving an hour to catch up with business before reconvening for drinks and later resuming our thorough exploration of the Royal St George’s wine list.
On Thursday another 36 hole match was scheduled. This time my partner was Tom Brown, a close friend who I met on a blind date more than fifteen years ago in what was then the men’s bar at Sunningdale shortly after he had got off the overnight flight from Los Angeles.
Never having seen him in my life before I said as we sauntered towards the first tee of the Old, “What’s your handicap?” He replied quietly, with a reticence not shared by all his countrymen, “About zero.” I stopped walking, aware I’d invited a friend who would have been extremely flattered by a handicap of 36 to join us, and turned to face him. “Do you mean you’re scratch?” I asked. “Yes” was the answer.
On the second tee my friend duly played an air shot. Tom did not flicker an eyelid and before long his passion for links golf and almost instantaneous embrace of the foursomes culture meant we were soon playing together regularly in various countries and continents.
Coincidentally and apropos of nothing in particular, experience has convinced me that an air shot, or even two, early in a round can lull opponents into a false sense of security and are no barrier to to winning keenly contested matches by a large margin. On this Thursday our opponents were Tony Anderson and a fellow Chicago and Los Angeles Country Club member. After 22 holes they were four up but Tom and I clawed them back to all square on the 36th tee. Alas I proceeded to duff my drive, a mishap which necessitated a strong sleeping pill to prevent me thinking about it all night.
By Friday the larks were singing sweetly and the sun was bright. This was the day of the annual fourball member/guest competition and the pin positions were tougher than on the previous two days. After the swift rounds of the two previous days this was a slower affair but banter and decent golf was enjoyed bringing three very happy days to a peaceful conclusion.
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Not for the first time Valhalla delivered an exciting climax to the USPGA last Sunday. Xander Schauffele finally won his longed for first major and on the day he undoubtedly played just a touch better than the chasing pack. It’s by these small margins that championships are so often decided.
The suspense was maintained all the way to the 18th where Schauffele hit a courageous 4 iron from light rough while standing with both feet in a bunker. He followed this with a neat chip and a six foot putt. Having led the field from wire to wire his victory was well deserved. It takes nothing away from it to observe that if the extraordinary events before daybreak on Friday morning had not occurred he might have been chased all the way home by Scottie Scheffler.
The PGA of America are to be applauded for taking their flagship event to places which otherwise rarely see the superstars in action and they were rewarded by enthusiastic galleries who stayed to the very end. Having said that, I suspect few tears will be shed over the disappearance of Valhalla from the rota of major venues. I felt neither affection nor much interest in the course after my only visit back in 2008.
Fried Egg Golf got it right with its headline “A Minor-Key Major”. Joseph Lamagna wrote scathingly that “what we witnessed was not championship-level golf by any stretch of the imagination” and added “players were asked to hit high, speedy drives and long irons, open-faced flop shots from thick rough and putts that didn’t break much……a mindless series of tasks for the modern golfer”.
Fans on this side of the pond can draw comfort from the presence of four Europeans in the top seven and LIV will be cheered by the performance of Bryson DeChambeau. His popularity is growing and he only missed forcing a play off by a whisker. Spare a thought too for Collin Morikawa who had to wait until the last hole to record a birdie after seventeen consecutive pars and who may not have been helped by the slow pace of play.
Pinehurst, here we come.
ENDS
Super fun read, Tim, as always. Keep’m coming. Just ONE American gang writing to say they’ve thoroughly enjoyed scratch foursomes would guarantee OBE, or if not the highest, the highest. See you somewhere soon