St Andrews, home of the Royal and Ancient, moral and practical guardians of golf in this part of the world. For a long time the BBC performed a similar role for the sport, lovingly gift-wrapping golf through the mellifluous observations of Peter Alliss. There was something appropriate, proper about Auntie being the host broadcaster last week for the Millennium British Open.
Sky Sports has undeniably elevated the coverage of sporting drama to a new level in terms of technical wizardry and voluminous detail, but they still possess a tendency to annoy, to over-analyse, to fracture the coverage through endless advertisement breaks, to try to parcel a thimble in an aircraft hangar. The wrappings and trappings often tire out the hapless viewer before the main event.
The satellite colossus would profit from a detailed study of the manner in which the BBC embraced 10 hours of live coverage at St Andrews on the Thursday and Friday. They did so without resorting to contrived debate, when the focus periodically shifts to the studio anchor and guest to prattle about nothing, an irksome distraction.
Steve Ryder's voice occasionally interrupted the coverage, but it generally pre-empted a change in the commentary arrangements and he sufficed with reminding viewers of the current state of affairs on the leaderboard. BBC is fortunate to employ a superb commentary team, from Peter Allis and Alex Hay to the on-course observations of Mike Hughesdon, Beverley Lewis and Julian Tutt.
Hay's Scottish brogue delivers an endless stream of tales, technical evaluations and observations on the local flora and fauna and historical pedigree of his surroundings. But for all his quality, he cannot match the quirky, witty, soothing delivery that is Peter Alliss.
Alliss resembles a favourite elderly uncle, his tales and stories dipped in history and his observations of the present day coloured by his age: the perfect foil really for Auntie. The one thing that distinguishes Alliss from his contemporaries is his refusal to kow-tow to players, especially Tiger Woods. While many simper in reverential tones, Alliss, while acknowledging the world number one's talent, prefers a more whimsical approach. He prefers to humanise rather than dehumanise them. It offers a refreshing alternative.
His absence therefore from the commentary box until after teatime on Friday afternoon - one presumes that his other employers, ABC, had first call on his services that particular day - was keenly felt. BBC's extended commentary team included the excellent South African Denis Hutchinson and the equally affable and knowledgeable professional, Wayne Grady of Australia.
And then there was the American Jerry Pate; boy did he make an impression. It's important to know what you're talking about, but it is often equally imperative to realise to whom you're talking. The various changeovers in commentary on the first day, contrived to have Pate announcing the return of Alex Hay to the box.
Unfortunately Pate told the viewers that he would "like to welcome Alec Hays back". The Scot wasted no time in correcting the faux pas, something he failed, publicly at least, to do when Pate made his next gaffe. The camera alighted on Christy O'Connor Jnr preparing to putt. Pate announced: "And here we have Christy O'Connor Snr putting for birdie at the 11th." Suddenly, "Oh!, I meant Christy O'Connor Junior, who is the British Seniors Open champion." Sound of laughing followed by Pate injecting, "Sure I know Christy's father well. He was a wonderful golfer." It wasn't long before the American received the shepherd's crook, probably at the behest of the producer.
These were some of the lighter moments in a high-quality package that not only extended to the live coverage of the tournament itself but also in the preamble to the 129th British Open, a series of documentaries, beautifully produced with typical BBC polish.
However, there were one or two blemishes. The first was a mental conundrum. Soaking up the coverage in large doses, this column occasionally resolved to take a comfort break at the next intermission for ads. When it dawned that there would be no breaks, a decision had to be made quickly. Fortunately the BBC provided the answer.
Now and then a graphic entitled Rules of Golf would appear followed by the unsmiling face of former tour pro Ken Brown. In an attempt to pre-empt the what-happens-if scenario in a thousand households, the BBC had cobbled together with Brown and a R an A rules official a series of rules cameos involving unplayable lies in the Swilcan Burn, the Road Hole bunker and Hell bunker among others.
Brown, complete with golf ball, would jump into a bunker, place the ball in an unplayable situation and then ask the R and A official what could be done under penalty of one shot. Very enlightening on the first occasion that one watched, but for the other 294 times these same clips were shown it became a bit repetitive.
Viewers must have prayed that no player wound up in a predicament outlined in the rules' clips for then it acted as another excuse to roll-it-there-Ken. These items eventually offered a window of opportunity to nip out without missing a second of the live action. Action might be something of a misnomer in that Woods' excellence rendered the tournament a procession.
While there was a great deal to admire and marvel at in his mental and physical control and precision, it was tinged with a modicum of tedium. Gimme the blood, the pressure, the intensity . . . the remote control.
