Islands Magazine January-February 2006
© Dale Leatherman 2006
Go far enough on any island and you will come to linksland—stretches of dunes, marsh and stubborn vegetation that separate sea and farmland. Windswept and generally worthless, linksland is good for the occasional pasturing of sheep—and for an ancient game that is one of the most popular in the world.
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Unlike baseball, tennis or football, golf's playing field is always different. For the avid golfer, there is always another great course out there, somewhere, beckoning him to pack his clubs and go. The world has nearly 32,000 courses to offer, so what makes any one special? In the words of architect Robert von Hagge, "an equal balance of tactical excellence and beauty. A golfer spends about 11 minutes actually striking the ball; the rest of the time he is in pure theater."
Nowhere is the sense of theater more obvious than on the Old Course at St. Andrews, Scotland, where golf has been played for more than 500 years. The village the Scots call the auld grey toon is the Birthplace of Golf--and the Old Course tops every player's life list.
When I at last stood on that famous first tee, I felt as if I had stepped on stage naked. Behind me, windows glittered like eyes in the looming grey façade of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club—the famous "R&A" that governs golf in all the world (except the U.S.). Down the fairway lay the stone bridge over Swilcan Burn, a landmark seen in thousands of photos and television shots. It is here that legends like Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus have paused, teary eyed, during their final British Open rounds. At every turn of the course there are reminders of history. Every hole—and many bunkers—have names and stories attached—tales of heroics, melt-downs and luck.
So what is it like, friends ask. Is it beautiful? Not in the traditional sense, but in the way a tornado has a fierce, awesome beauty. Under a mantle of swirling gray clouds, shadows and light define features of the Old Course's sepia-toned terrain. Is it the best course in the world? Probably not, but it has influenced golf course design throughout the world for centuries. However, its significance is not apparent at first sight. When the late Sam Snead arrived in St. Andrews to play in the 1946 British Open, he glimpsed the course from the train and said, "That looks like an abandoned golf course. What did they call it?" The laughter at his remark died a few days later when he won the Open by four strokes. His comment then: "Until you play it, St. Andrews looks like the sort of real estate you couldn't give away."
The Old Course was not "built" in the traditional way--moving earth to fit a preconceived plan. In a sense, it evolved. Nature shaped the mounds and swales and planted the tangled gorse and heather that often make it impossible to see the fairway ahead. Sheep sheltering from the wind snuggled into low spots, hollowing out bunkers. Hell Bunker on the fourteenth hole could swallow a double-decker bus. The course is also riddled with smaller, hidden pot bunkers from which the prudent escape route is sometimes backward. Reaching the green is only half the battle; the undulating putting surfaces are huge, with fourteen greens serving two holes, one outbound, one returning. The fifth and thirteenth holes share the world's largest green, measuring 80 yards across.
At the end, no matter how miserable your score, walking up the eighteenth fairway is euphoric. A gaggle of spectators crowd the white boundary fence, their eyes on the first tee and eighteenth green, while the august buildings across the street seem to lean in, watchful, in case history is about to be made once again.
With a nod to Shakespeare, the Old Course is golf's world stage, and the chance to experience the spotlight is priceless.
Other priceless golf experiences: . . . . .
Contact me to read the entire story or to discuss second rights or a rewrite. daleatherman@cs.com