A man slips quietly into the driver seat of a Mercedes saloon in a leafy suburb of Melbourne with crime and his career on his mind. An hour later he arrives at his destination, Cape Shank. An unfortunate name for a golfer to have to remember.
He pulls up outside an exclusive residence on the golf course development. Looks about circumspectly and proceeds to the back door, the gentle sound of broken glass echoes around the cape, his hand stretches inside and unlocks the door from the inside. He passes through the house with familiarity.
He gasps on opening the next door - there they are in a brightly coloured golf bag, the old ping eye-2-irons, the key to his future as a professional golfer. The golfer reduced to this felony, in order to save his career, is Mike Clayton. He had given his old clubs to his friends wife some four-years-ago. This was s Clayton's attempt to revitalise a sagging trend in his game. His friend with a holiday home in Cape Shank is the ex-Wimbledon doubles champion Paul MacNamee. Clayton rushed back to the pro shop at his home club of Metropolitan with his merchandise.
He plugged up the shafts, regripped the clubs and hoped that there was no report of a break-in at the s MacNamee's house. A young Mike Clayton arrived in Europe in 1984 with the Victorian and Tasmanian Opens under his belt. He was a formidable force and won one of his first events, in Southern France. His caddie back then was Steve Williams, a confident New Zealander who only worked for the best. Steve is presently caddying for Tiger Woods. Somehow Clayton sidled into the journeyman ranks in Europe. He finally lost his card some twelve years after his promising debut.
He was famous on tour for discarding disobedient clubs. I was in the fortunate position to watch Mike tee off in a practice round with a new driver, he duck-hooked it and tossed it in immediate disgust to the nearest bystander, who happened to be me.
In fact many caddies who made-up sets from Clayton's cast-offs over the years, were devastated when he finally lost his card. Clubs that t didn't work had to disappear from s Clayton's world. So it was with the ping eye-2s, the trouble was that they were not totally unattainable. The petty crime seemed to be working after three rounds of the Australian Masters at Huntingdale, a course that he is very familiar with, having grown-up playing at Metropolitan next door.
He was lying half-way down the field going into the final round, but playing like there was a low round left in him. The old demons returned on the back nine. The eye-2s had deserted him. Who's wife was going to be next to disinherit her clubs?
Paul MacNamee retired from tennis in 1988 and became one of the few successful players to turn his hand to administration and organising tennis events. He ran the Hopman Cup mixed tennis event in Perth for years until turning his attention to the Australian Open.
Maybe he should have a chat to his good friend Micheal. Clayton has got an active golf course design company running in Melbourne, he writes a daily column for the PGA website and a weekly feature for the Melbourne Age newspaper. He is also on the PGA board of directors. Along with all this he is trying to compete at a high level. Something has got to give.
I suppose its easier for tennis players to retire. You patently don't belong after a certain age. With golf, well there is always hope. Clayton, one of the last true characters left playing professional golf and the most amiable person you are likely to meet, summed up his position in a practice round before the Australian Masters. I commented to him that he was putting a smooth and good-looking stroke on his putts.
He was quick to reply not to get too excited. He then put a knock-kneed jerk on his next putt and looked at me as if to say s that's how it is likely to look under pressure. I wonder who else got burgled last week in Melbourne and lost nothing but an old set of errant golf clubs.
