GOLF: Jon Swift
THE British Open has always been a leveller in the hard world of professional golf. And at Turnberry’s Ailsa Course _ without question the most spectacular of the Open venues _ all bets are off.
The mystique of the links reclaimed from an wartime airfield by the redoubtable Mackenzie Ross, is such that it has produced some truly amazing golf since being instated as an Open course in 1977.
And it is here that the on-form southern African contingent of US Open champion Ernie Els, Nick Price, winner of last week’s Western Open _ and three-times winner on the PGA Tour _ and Greater Hartford Open victor David Frost will fight it out with the best in the world next weekend.
Like all Scottish layouts, how you manage Turnberry depends to a large degree on how kindly the weather smiles.
On a good day you can see Ailsa Craig, Arram, the Mull of Kintyre and even glimpse the Giant’s Causeway on the distant shores of Antrim.
But when the Irsh Sea takes on the brooding blackness of which it is more than capable, life for the player can become a murky, windswept channel of misery from tee to green. From the back tees in the wind, the Ailsa Course is more than a match for even the top professionals.
There is a saying that when you can see the bulging dome shape of the rock named Ailsa Craig, it is going to rain … and when you can’t it is raining.
This doubtless is the reason for the title “Woe-be-Tide” given to the fourth, a gem of a short hole played across a corner of the sandy beach.
All the holes carry quaint names, the awesome ninth “Bruce’s Castle” or more colloquially, “the Lighthouse” and the par five 17th, “Lang Whang”.
It was here that Jack Nicklaus finally succumbed to Tom Watson in 1977 during what is perhaps the greatest head-to- head encounter in the Open history.
The two had been paired from the first round and matched each other stroke for stroke over the first three days, carding identical rounds of 68, 70 and 65 as Nicklaus strove to avenge himself for the two-shot win Watson recorded in that year’s Masters at Augusta.
The final round was played on a day that had suddenly turned the layout from warm and welcoming to chilly and blastery. The conditions fazed neither Watson nor Nicklaus.
They went at it from the start and matched each other shot for shot, birdie for birdie. The clincher only came at the 17th _ 500 yards and one of only two par fives on the course _ where Nicklaus pushed his tee shot into the fringe. Watson suddenly edged him a shot.
Nicklaus came back with a superb birdie at the 18th _ “Aisla Hame” _ only to be matched again by Watson and lose the championship by one stroke.
Testimony to the dominance of these two was the fact that only one other player, reigning US Open champion Hubert Green, could better par for the four rounds and ended 10 shots worse that Nicklaus.
This then is what faces the southern African contingent. A journey round the rock-strewn layout perpetually pounded by the forces of the sea is not a task for the faint-hearted.
Few can accuse Els, Price or Frost of this human failing. For, even across the years which tend to blur the sharp outlines of the Watson-Nicklaus encounter I wa privileged to watch, the wise make no wagers on a winner at Turnberry.