The ultimate course superintendent

It was at Kiawah Island, as an official observer for the 1991 matches, that Jaime Ortiz-Patino first dreamed of bringing the …

It was at Kiawah Island, as an official observer for the 1991 matches, that Jaime Ortiz-Patino first dreamed of bringing the Ryder Cup to Valderrama. The get-upand-go spirit of the American organisers fired him with the feeling that he could emulate them at his own special place on Spain's Costa del Sol.

When the tournament was over, Patino lost no time in following his dream. Without waiting for the Ryder Cup committee to decide which country would play host to the 1997 event, he sent a trusted aide back to Kiawah to make a detailed study of the entire operation there, including accommodation and transport.

As Patino later recalled: "I was doing everything I could to ensure that the Ryder Cup would be in Spain, whether at Valderrama or not." The completeness of his success will be in evidence later this month, however, when the grandson of a Bolivian tin magnate plays host to the biggest show in golf, at a venue he did much to create.

Sixteen years ago, this fine golfing stretch was known as Las Aves, or Sotogrande New, when, in his capacity as Irish international team captain, Joe Carr brought a squad of players there for pre-season training. It had a splendid setting, high above Sotogrande itself, beyond the main road from Malaga.

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Despite general views to the contrary, Carr always rated it as a better course than its more famous neighbour. Indeed it was on one of those training trips that Ronan Rafferty set a course record 67 at Sotogrande Old in 1981. And I can recall Enda McMenamin scoring a hole-in-one at the 220-yard sixth at Las Aves, with a three iron.

That was before the nines were switched around to the present configuration and the sixth became the 15th. And it was before Patino and seven business friends, bought the course in 1985 for $6 million. They changed the name to Valderrama and brought the celebrated designer, Robert Trent Jones, back there for a remodelling job in preparation for the inaugural Volvo Masters in 1988.

The extent to which the old master succeeded could be gauged from the fact that Nick Faldo, Seve Ballesteros, Sandy Lyle and Ian Woosnam filled the first four places.

Jaime Patino, who prefers to be known simply as Jimmy, is the grandson of Simon Patino, a one-time penniless Spanish peasant who became a legendary tin magnate, striking it rich in Bolivia. In the course of a stunning business career, he expanded into England, Canada, Nigeria, Malaysia, Australia and Brazil, diversifying into copper, gold, silver and other minerals.

By 1947, he had accumulated a fortune estimated at $4 billion. Among his acquisitions were railroads and banks, steamship lines and munitions companies; oil wells, mines and smelters; liquor monopolies; linoleum concerns; electric water-power and lighting plants and vast farms and vineyards.

His grandson, Jimmy, grew up in a palatial, four-storey Paris mansion at 34 Avenue Foch, where a staff of 12 cared for his every need. And his education was also top-drawer, at the esteemed Le Rosey boarding school in Switzerland, where Prince Rainier, the Shah of Iran and the Aga Khan had once studied.

Determined to stand apart from his inherited fortune and "do something on my own", Patino graduated with a degree in engineering but didn't go into the family business. Instead, he worked in a Swiss bank and became an accomplished tennis player, competing in the French and Italian Opens.

A shoulder injury, however, caused him to turn his attention to skiing, motor-racing and bridge. He also became a very useful golfer, getting down to a handicap of seven. It was during this period that he developed a friendship with the great Welsh professional, Dai Rees, whom he caddied for in the 1956 Italian Open.

Patino recalled: "Golf was not then awash with sponsorship and money and few pros could afford to take a caddie on tour. It soon became clear that Dai and his caddie were not sympatico and Dai's wife asked me if I would take over (on the final day)." Afterwards, Rees said to him: "I won't offer you the usual caddie fee but I'm captain of next year's Ryder Cup squad and I'll send you a couple of tickets instead."

The little Welshman was as good as his word. Which meant that in 1957, Patino was at Lindrick, savouring his first experience of the Ryder Cup as Rees captained Britain and Ireland, including Christy O'Connor and Harry Bradshaw, to a memorable triumph.

Later, during the 1970s, Patino fought for and won control of his family business, turning his back on a playboy's life among Europe's glitterati. He also embarked on collecting art, wine, books and stamps. Eventually, by the time he was 50, he turned his attention - and fortune - back to golf.

In this context, it should be noted that for 30 years he has had a so-called summer house near Valderrama. It is a two-acre compound of sprawling cottages filled with art and antiques and connected by a series of bougainvillea-bedecked archways. The house staff of eight, who refer to him as Don Jaime, are mostly citizens of the neighbouring village of Guadiaro.

Patino lives here mostly alone for five months each year while his wife of 27 years - Uta, whom he calls "a lovely girl" - spends most of her time in Palm Beach, Florida. Meanwhile, 34-year-old twin sons Carlos and Felipe, from a previous marriage, live in London and Geneva.

He first arrived in the Andalusian region of Spain in 1967, having been attracted by the newly-established Sotogrande course. It was a strange, backward environment where the largely dirt roads caused him to rein in his Ferrari to about 30 mph.

After liquidating his family business in 1982, Patino found himself with more time on his hands for golfing projects. So he planned to build a nine-hole par-three course in the 20-acre garden of his house in Geneva. After hiring Trent Jones to do the design, however, he was refused permission for the project by the Swiss government.

The upshot was that he fought the government in court; stubbornly completed his golf course; played exactly one round there and proceeded to sell his house. And so, Switzerland's loss was Spain's gain.

Not surprisingly, Patino also tired of waiting for tee-times at Sotogrande. He is, in fact, a member of 17 clubs, including Muirfield, Pine Valley and Royal St George's. Augusta National, however, remains a notable exception - "that would be an honour."

Shortly after becoming a joint owner of the newly-formed Valderrama club 12 years ago, he bought out the other shareholders. By acquiring absolute control, he was simply being true to his belief that the best organisations are autocracies.

In the event, he added a further 70 acres, flattened hills and planted thousands of trees on the way to an eventual outlay of seven times the purchase price. His objective was to build the Augusta National of Europe and, to lend appropriate status to the establishment, Britain's Prince Andrew and former US president George Bush, were invited to become honorary members.

A course superintendent at heart, Patino enjoys nothing better than rising at 3.0 a.m. to lead work crews into action before an important event. He also enjoys travelling to greenkeepers' meetings where once in the US a colleague marvelled, "your club must be very rich to send you all the way over here".

In his book "Valderrama, The First 10 Years," he wrote: "When somebody asked me at a cocktail party why I wanted to host the Ryder Cup at Valderrama, I was momentarily at a loss for a reply. How could any golf-course superintendent not want his course to be the venue for the greatest golf contest?"

Against that background, it is hardly surprising that Patino was 14 months ahead of the pack when putting down his marker for the 1997 Ryder Cup. And he did it in style, with a leather-bound proposal and the words "The Choice for 1997" embossed on its cover. "No obstacle will be too great and no detail too small," he promised.

Then fate took a hand. When Valderrama's candidacy was first announced to the media, Patino was in a clinic outside Boston undergoing surgery for a faulty aortic valve. Afterwards, a specialist advised him that he was putting him on a medication that reacted adversely to alcohol.

So as to calibrate the correct dosage, the surgeon needed to know precisely how much alcohol the patient consumed each day. "Four whiskies, two vodkas and a bottle and a half of wine a day," Patino replied. "You can't drink that much," the specialist exclaimed. On being assured that the patient most definitely did drink that much each day, the dosage was duly calibrated.

I was present at the Volvo PGA Championship at Wentworth when the choice of Valderrama was formally announced. It had come in the wake of bitter accusations of bribery against Patino from Seve Ballesteros, who was promoting Novo Sancti Petri, a decidedly modest layout near Cadiz.

In accepting the Ryder Cup committee's decision, Ballesteros took a hand-written statement from his pocket and made the now famous announcement to the press that "there will be only answers, no questions". Shortly afterwards, he and Patino met in the media centre where they shook hands and had their photograph taken together. "Jimmy, you're too strong - you win, congratulations," the player conceded graciously.

Given his estimated wealth of $600 million, there were accusations that Patino had bought the Ryder Cup. But he ignored criticism from whatever quarter: the prize had been landed and there was much work to do.

Contemplating the scale of the undertaking, he said: "The potential audience is wider than ever. With the phenomenal growth of satellite television, it is as if there was a huge loudspeaker, blaring an increasingly global message around the world."

He went on: "We have to expect more and more emphasis on events like the Ryder Cup that have a wide appeal, at the expense of those that have only a national or continental audience. Pinnacle events will concentrate the public's attention more and more on the superstars."

It is surely light years removed from the transatlantic battle at Lindrick 40 years ago. But, at 65, Patino concluded: "For me, the sweetness of the present is due in no small part to the events of the past, notably my attendance at the 1957 Ryder Cup, courtesy of the captain, Dai Rees."