Prior to last weekend, an abiding memory of Carnoustie was of the 1996 Scottish Open and the sight of Colin Montgomerie coming into the media centre after being whipped by winds gusting up to 40 m.p.h. A relentless battle with the elements was etched in the face of the not-so-jolly giant, whose boyish curls were flattened on his head, as if by layers of grease.
Before the course record-holder went into detail about a round of 81, he was asked by a scribe from the far side of the pond: "Colin, was the wind a factor?" As if too numb to think, Montgomerie repeated in a monotone: "Was the wind a factor?" Then suddenly, as the thoughtless nature of the question dawned on him, he stormed: "WAS THE WIND A FACTOR?; WAS THE WIND A FACTOR?"
As we know, the wind was also a factor last weekend, when Paul Lawrie came from 10 strokes behind to win the British Open and Jean Van de Velde slipped from three strokes ahead to squander the chance of victory. Both men have now become golfing heroes of mine - Lawrie for proving that an ordinary man can have his day in the sun and Van de Velde for his remarkable graciousness in defeat.
The Frenchman's plight brought back other memories of the 1982 British Open at Royal Troon, where Nick Price let the title slip over the closing three holes. After admitting that he "backed into the title", Tom Watson went on to explain how pressure manifests itself at the highest level.
"It's not about wobbly knees and trembling hands," he said. "It's about making the correct decisions when you're getting wrong messages from a mind that's in turmoil. Only a player with an exceptionally strong mind will recognise those messages for what they are, unless he has been in that position before."
It is now patently obvious that the Frenchman made very poor decisions on that fateful 72nd hole. And instead of castigating him as the ultimate wiseacres on the ditch, rather should we sympathise with the fact that before he had the chance of learning how to win at the highest level, he was thrown into the white heat of battle, essentially as a novice.
Lawrie is clearly made of sterner stuff. But unlike Van de Velde, he had the chance in the play-off of adjusting to a winning situation before the decisive shots had to be hit.
Meanwhile, David Feherty has been offering his views to our American brethren, in typically colourful language. He wrote: "The way it (Carnoustie) was set up, with goat-choking weeds and fairways narrower than Adolf Hitler's mind, it was a test of how much of the Barry Burn you could swallow without throwing up."
He went on: "Jack Nicklaus once said that golf wasn't meant to be fair, but I believe it wasn't meant to be stupid either. That last bit was mine, not Jack's."
Yet, after criticising all concerned with the staging of the championship, Feherty was forced to conclude: "Whatever way you look at it, we had a perfect example of why this is the world's greatest game. What theatre. We had a play-off between three people, two of whom felt like they had won the lottery just by being there and one who had the winning ticket under his beret but threw his hat in the air by mistake." Just so.
"It's a major championship and if they want to find out who the best player is that week, the one way to do it is to make it as tough as you can and everybody's going to have to play it." Tom Lehman, commenting on Sandy Lyle's warning early this month that Carnoustie would be "tighter than a duck's backside."
Those of us who are old enough to appreciate the benefit of a motorised golf trolley will remember Cheryl Ladd, the smallest and arguably the prettiest of Charlie's Angels.
Anyway, at 45, Cheryl now appears to be enjoying a new life - in golf.
While the rest of us are concerned with the Smurfit European Open at The K Club next week, the actress/singer will be at Warwick Hills for the Buick Open, as an "ambassador" for the sponsoring company. An enthusiastic, 17-handicapper, she was given, as a fringe benefit, a putting lesson by Australian Steve Elkington during last month's Buick Classic at Westchester CC.
Ladd attributes her success in golf to the encouragement of her Scottish husband, Brian Russell, who was reared near Edinburgh. He moved to Canada as an 11-year-old.
Judging from the post-Valderrama output, there are going to be some lucrative book deals arising from the 2005 staging of the Ryder Cup at The K Club. The first important record of the 1997 staging was the sumptuous production by Jeff Kelly and Antonio Sanchez and it has been followed by Valderrama: The Ryder Cup Years 1992-1997 by Jaime OrtizPatino.
The importance of the event in the life of Valderrama's owner, Patino, can be gauged from his opening line: "Family aside, hosting the Ryder Cup has been the greatest thing that ever happened to me." It was an obsession which had its roots in his attendance at Lindrick in 1957, when he saw top-level matchplay for the first time.
"What is more," he wrote, "I saw history made, as the 1957 event was the only one Great Britain and Ireland would ever win in the post-war series. The all-pervading tension was also much to my liking and to a European who admired the true American character, this provided a fascinating background against which the contestants played solo parts." The book is not on general sale.
During a visit Ronald Reagan made to Augusta National, a crazed gunman saw fit to storm the gates and hold five people hostage in the professional shop before being captured without injury. Later, the then chairman of the club, Hord Hardin remarked stuffily: "We like Reagan well enough, but he's not welcome back here."
This little anecdote is recounted in the upcoming issue of Golf Digest by way suggesting that the current White House incumbent will not be especially welcome in golfing circles when he becomes plain Citizen Clinton. The consensus is that he would have trouble getting into one of the larger, mainstream American clubs, like Winged Foot in New York.
From an unofficial survey of club members, the US magazine offered three arguments. In favour: "Out of respect for the Office of President, you can't turn him down." Opposed: "He's a slow golfer who likes to play what he calls Arkansas Rules - free mulligans for a drive, chip and putt on each nine." Overall: "I'd vote to admit him purely for purposes of amusement. Then, of course, I'd resign."
Some things in golf never change - including the renowned hospitality of Muirfield. Which is what Michael Jordan and friends discovered to his cost, during a recent golfing tour of these islands.
Apparently the erstwhile star of the Chicago Bulls basketball team had no difficulty in arranging a 5.0 p.m. starting time. But this was as close as his group got to the Honourable Company. It meant that not only did the group have to carry their own bags, but a surprised Muirfield resident was surprised to find Jordan on the doorstep, requesting permission to use the toilet.
This day in golf history . . . On July 24th, 1966, Tony Lema and his wife Betty were killed when the private plane in which they were travelling crashed onto the seventh hole at The Sportsman's Club in Lansing, Illinois. The 32-year-old Californian was on his way from the USPGA Championship to an exhibition in Chicago.
A noted party-goer and big spender, Lema acquired his famous sobriquet when, as 54hole leader of the 1962 Orange County California Open, he promised the press champagne if he won. He did, and was known thereafter as "Champagne" Tony. But his greatest triumph was to come two years later, in the 1964 British Open at St Andrews.
Arnold Palmer didn't think he himself was playing well enough to compete, so he advised Lema to use his normal St Andrews caddie, Tip Anderson. It became an inspired move, particularly when Lema's hectic schedule meant arriving with no time to see the course. Anderson showed him the way so successfully that he shot rounds of 73, 68, 68, 70 to finish five stokes clear of Jack Nicklaus.
Teaser: A player playing from the teeing ground misses the ball completely. He pushes his tee further into the ground and plays. Is there a penalty?
Answer: Yes. As the ball was in play after the player had made a stroke at it, he incurred a penalty of one stroke under Rule 19-2a when he teed the ball lower, and a penalty of loss of hole in matchplay or a total penalty of two strokes in strokeplay because the ball was not subsequently replaced.
