By John Feinstein
One of the most over-used words in sports is unique. The word means one of a kind and there just aren’t that many things—or people—that are unique.

Peter Alliss, who died over the weekend at 89, was unique.

Alliss is in the World Golf Hall of Fame not because he was a very good player (which he certainly was) but because he was absolutely brilliant as a TV commentator. He was funny and irreverent and always willing to speak his mind.

REWIND: Golf Digest Middle East’s 2014 Conversation With The ‘Voice Of Golf’

In today’s TV world, no one ever hits a bad shot—there’s always an excuse. When Alliss saw a bad shot, he called it a bad shot. Occasionally he’d just say, “oh my,” and let the picture tell the rest of the story. You never—I mean NEVER—heard him say, “he hit a good putt,” when someone missed from inside 10 feet.

“A good putt goes in the hole,” he told me one night, rolling his eyes as the thought of anything different.

He also seemed to know just what to say at climactic moments. When Tom Watson needed to two-putt the 18th green at Pebble Beach to win the 1982 U.S. Open and he proceeded to roll in his birdie putt, Alliss said simply: “Did it in one. Elementary my dear Watson.”

I had the pleasure—the honour really—of dining with Alliss on numerous occasions courtesy of our mutual friend Frank Hannigan. After retiring as senior executive director of the USGA in 1989, Hannigan joined ABC as a rules expert and an unofficial consultant on all things golf. He and Alliss, who first worked for ABC in 1974, were good friends, bonded by their love of golf and a frequently sceptical view of the world.

The first time I was invited to join the two men at dinner was at Westchester in June 1994 when I was researching, A Good Walk Spoiled. Hannigan, who frequently informed me that, while I might know something (though not as much as him) about basketball, but nothing about golf, told me en route to dinner that if I was smart I would, “shut up and listen for once in your life because I’m much smarter than you and Peter’s much smarter than me.”

Hannigan was right. What was remarkable about Alliss was that he wasn’t that much different off-air than he was on-air. The language—especially after some wine—was a little saltier, but his ability to make a point in fewer words than most was exactly the same.

When I mistakenly began to warble on about the wonders of the Ryder Cup—I’d been to my first one the previous fall—he cut me off quickly.

“I played in eight of them,” he said. “Back then, even though you fellows [the U.S.] should have almost always beaten us easily, we kept it competitive most of the time because we were playing for God and the Queen. Or, at the very least, the Queen. Now, half the time the players show up because it will help them with their [sponsor] contracts.”

RELATED: Why Peter Alliss will forever be one of golf’s distinctive characters

Having seen the looks of joy and anguish on the players faces at The Belfry nine months earlier, I disagreed. That was a little like trying to stop waves from crashing on a beach. Alliss and Hannigan were both smarter than me.

Warren Little
Golf fans show their appreciation for Peter Alliss during the first round of the 2005 British Open.

Hannigan quickly pointed out that Alliss had been undefeated in Ryder Cup matches against Arnold Palmer. “Only in singles,” Alliss said. “I beat him once, we halved once. Lost to him in a foursomes match.”

A few years later, when Tiger Woods burst on to the scene, Alliss wasn’t the least bit sceptical about his game. Late in 1996—before Woods’ dominant win at the Masters the following April—he said, “he’s not the best young player I’ve ever seen. He’s the best player I’ve ever seen—period. He’ll dominate the game the same way the great man [he always called Nicklaus ‘the great man,’] did, only more so.”

Hannigan, who would tell you sunsets on the beach were overrated, scoffed. “Come on,” he said. “Talk to me when the kid wins something that matters. I’m not ready to crown him king because he wins in Vegas.”

We all know how that turned out.

As you might imagine, I became addicted to dinners with Alliss and Hannigan. It was entertaining and often fall-down-funny, but it was also like getting a Ph.d in golf. Peter was born in 1931 and had been around the game his entire life—since his father had been a successful golf pro himself. If you brought up a name or a golf course or a past major championship, Peter could give a seminar on it instantly, usually with several funny anecdotes to illustrate the facts.

When my book came out, I showed up for dinner one night with copies for Peter and Frank. I proudly handed them over saying something like, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate …”

Peter cut me off. “Did you inscribe this?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I said.

Peter shook his head. “I really don’t like a book inscribed unless I consider it worthy. I wish you’d waited.” Then he smiled. “I do appreciate the thought though. Thank you.” A few weeks later, a note arrived at my house. It said simply: “Well done. I will proudly keep this in my library.”

Eight years ago, Peter and Dan Jenkins were inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame, meaning that the two funniest men in golf got to speak at the usually somnambulant induction ceremony. Not surprisingly, Dan was terrific. But Peter stole the show.

Alliss was at his witty best during his 2012 World Golf Hall of Fame induction speech.

He began by explaining that his life had been both simple and fortunate: “I waffled along loving the game of golf.” He talked about his playing career, which included those eight Ryder Cups, 21 tournament wins worldwide and five top-10 finishes in 25 starts at the Open Championship. Not winning the event that mattered most to him might have been his one regret. “The thing is, I was good enough to win,” he said one night. “I just never did.”

He was grateful, gracious and funny. Finally, as he wound down, he told the story about the headmistress at his school, describing the last report she’d sent home to his parents. “Peter does have a brain,” he recited. “But he’s rather loathed to use it.” Her conclusion? “I fear for his future.”

When the laughs quieted, Peter said: “If there is such a thing as heaven and if people do look down, well, mom and dad, look at this lot.” He gestured with his hands at the rapt audience. “It’s all fallen into place.”

And then, he added: “And Mrs. Weymouth, if you’re there …” His right arm shot towards the sky, middle finger extended. It was, without question, one of the great mic-drops in history, even though there was no mic for him to drop.

The audience came to its feet, laughing and crying all at once. That was Peter Alliss. You never knew what was coming next, but inevitably, it was smarter and funnier than you could possibly have predicted. Not some of the time, all of the time.

The post Spend time with Peter Alliss and you always came away smarter about golf appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

Alliss is remembered for a distinguished career that included no fewer than eight Ryder Cup appearances and 20 wins worldwide. But it was as the quick-witted, ever honest (sometimes pointedly so) and always informed TV commentator where Alliss carved out his legendary status as the “voice of golf”.

RELATED: Peter Alliss, renowned player and acclaimed commentator, will forever be one of golf’s distinctive characters

In early January six years ago, then Golf Digest Middle East editor Robbie Greenfield enjoyed a private audience with Alliss during a visit to Dubai by the 2012 World Golf Hall of Fame inductee. It resulted in a short, three-part “A conversation with Peter Alliss” series which remains as compelling a watch today as it was in 2014.

Enjoy.

On golf’s different era
“I did my first open at Royal Birkdale in 1961 and, ahh, that was amazing. That was the one that Arnold Palmer won. I remember that because I’d never seen anyone as exciting as Arnold Palmer play. He was the first really exciting player I ever saw and then later came Seve Ballesteros who was dashing and exciting and in between that you had Jack Nicklaus who was like a giant tank going forward, irrepressible strength and so on but he didn’t have that, in my eyes, he didn’t have that little magic. He was irrepressible but he just bulldozed everything.”

Alliss’ colourful opening monologue set the scene for a fascinating comparison of golf’s bygone era with today’s big-hitting bullies.

Take a look:

It was a trademark of Alliss’ to find a humorous way to get his point across, as he did in the interview:  “And your athletes of the 1930s, Jesse Owens, winning four or five gold medals, I mean some people, my grannie could run faster than him [now] but he was the fastest man in the world in 1936 or whatever. So comparing then and now is ridiculous. You can’t do it really.”

On Tiger Woods
Some argued Alliss never really warmed to Tiger Woods who was marooned on 14 major wins at the time and going through the fallout from his extra marital affairs.

“He was loved early on because he was such a phenomenal player and he did such amazing things and he was a boy smiling and ‘ooh, golly, isn’t this great’, and now he’s [Alliss looks at camera with a gruff face and grumbles], and he looks sometimes at people that were asking questions as if they are stupid. ‘Fancy asking me a question like that [Alliss says looking down his nose disdainfully], geez’. And it comes over, he doesn’t have a happy face.”

We are sure Alliss would approve of the new and improved Tiger who has certainly been more personable in his public appearances since winning his 15th major title at the 2019 Masters. Then again…

On the Rules of Golf
When the conversation swung to the Rules of Golf, Alliss didn’t hold back, describing some of them “very complicated and draconian”.

“Most mistakes are through ignorance and I think golf professionals are amongst the most ignorant of the rules. I think if you took the whole of the top 100 and said you’ve got to sit an exam to be an adjudicator, five percent might pass…I doubt if five percent would pass.”

Always saying it like it was. We’ll miss that.

RIP, ‘Good Sir’.

The post REWIND: Golf Digest Middle East’s 2014 conversation with the ‘voice of golf’ appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

By John Huggan
Just three months short of his 90th birthday—“level fives” in his language—Peter Alliss passed away overnight. Born in Berlin on Feb. 28, 1931 (he was, at the time, the biggest baby in Europe, weighing in at 14 pounds 12 ounces), the doyen of golf commentating died peacefully in his sleep at home in England.

Eight times a Ryder Cup player and the winner of more than 20 events around the world, Alliss ended his distinguished playing career in the early 1970s and quickly made himself an almost indispensable part of tournament coverage on television the world over. No one in that business knew the game better; few were as quick-witted or humorous talking about what the man himself never forgot was just a game. As well as commentating regularly for the BBC, he also worked for ESPN and ABC Sports along with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.

RELATED: Golf Digest Middle East’s 2014 conversation with the ‘voice of golf’

Alliss came from a distinguished golfing family. His father, Percy, played four times for Great Britain & Ireland in the Ryder Cup and was a consistent tournament winner in the two decades preceding World War II.

“I never really saw my father play,” said the younger Alliss. “But he was a lovely golfer, the Luke Donald of his day, or a Gene Littler. He had a perfectly balanced swing and was a superb driver of the ball. His putting was a bit shaky, but if you look at the greens back then they were worse than my lawn. I got a hand-written letter from Henry Cotton when I won the Assistants Championship in 1951 or ’52. Dear Peter, many congratulations on your first victory. Your father was the sweetest swinger I’ve ever seen. What a beautiful player. Sincerely, Henry Cotton.”

First through his father and later through his own exploits, Peter spent a lifetime knowing just about everyone of consequence in the game. One of his proudest claims was that, apart from maybe 15 of them, he had met, played with or known every Open champion since 1900.

“I came home one day from school to find a few of my father’s friends sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea and a chat,” he said. “Round that table were Reg Whitcombe [1938 Open champion], Ernest Whitcombe [1924 Open runner-up], Alf Padgham [1936 Open champion], Alf Perry [1935 Open champion], Dick Burton [1939 Open champion] and my father. It was summer time and I remember Ernest saying he had to go. He had to get back to the club—on the bus—because he had a couple of lessons that evening. Changed days indeed.”

Photo by Mrs Dulce R Stuart
Peter Alliss (left) stands next to his father Percy, circa 1961.

The young Alliss also made the acquaintance of Bobby Jones, caddying

for the great amateur in what was surely Jones’ last round of golf in the United Kingdom. It was just after the World War II at Parkstone Golf Club outside Bournemouth on England’s south coast. Jones, wearing his colonel’s uniform and with his tie tucked into his shirt, played with Alliss senior and Reg Whitcombe.

What often gets overlooked as he became more and more famous for his work with a microphone in hand was how good a player Peter Alliss was. Renowned for the smoothness and elegance of his full swing—and, later, terrible putting (the number plate on his car read ‘PUT3’) marked by a dreadful bout of the yips that, he claimed, began on the 11th green at Augusta National during a Masters—he twice played Arnold Palmer in Ryder Cup singles and finished unbeaten.

“I have a very good Ryder Cup record, mostly because of my fear of losing,” said Alliss, who went 10-15-5 on teams that went just 1-6-1. “I always had the attitude that ‘you weren’t going to beat me.’ I believe you play the man, not the course. I played Arnold three times when he was at his peak and the only one I lost was a foursome. I beat him once and halved with him in singles. I also beat Billy Casper, Gay Brewer and Ken Venturi at various times, and halved with Tony Lema.”

There was more to Alliss than a formidable match-play record, of course. In stroke play he had his moments, although—as it was for his father—not winning an Open Championship was a lingering regret (he had five top-10 finishes in 25 appearances).

R&A Championships
Peter Alliss plays a shot during the 1967 Open Championship at Royal Liverpool.

“Looking back, I was a good player,” he said modestly. “I was the best player in Europe in the 1960s, without ever winning the Open. I won my first tournament as far back as 1954, the Daks event at Little Aston, and my 21st and last in 1969. So I averaged more than one per year. There are only a handful of British players who have ever won more than I did. I’m certainly in the top 10. And my total prize money didn’t come to £30,000.

“I was a very good ball-striker in my time. And, despite my reputation, I could putt, too. You don’t win 20-odd times if you can’t putt. I would, over the course of a round, hole four or five putts of at least 20 feet. But I’d occasionally miss from no more than 15 inches. And I never knew why. I’ve seen film of myself in the mid-60s and I had hardly any backswing at all.”

Later, with all of the above behind him, Alliss’ shrewd observations on all aspects of the game were just part of his appeal as a commentator and author (he wrote 20 books on golf, from golf history to instruction to memoir). Unashamedly “un-PC,” he was unapologetically a product of his upbringing in the post-war years.

“I hate to see things going to waste,” he said. “I still go round switching lights off. I can’t bear to throw food away. I’m a relic of what influenced me when I was young. Courtesies and manners are very important to me. These days, people think you’re a dinosaur if you stand up when a lady enters the room, or if you write thank-you notes. I know it’s all progress, but it’s a different world from the one I grew up in.”

That view of modern life did occasionally get Alliss into trouble. He was, for example, not one who viewed golf in the 21st century as being necessarily superior to what had gone before.

“I do believe that the most skillful golfers were those who played between 1900 and 1920,” he said, his tongue only slightly in his cheek. “Look at the scores they did. JH Taylor won the Open at Deal around that time with scores averaging 73.5 or whatever. Look at the clubs they used. The balls weren’t round and didn’t go anywhere. The bunkers were never raked. The course was only 300 yards shorter than it is today. And the wind blew and the rain was still wet. I reckon you could take the best 20 players of today, give them the old balls and clubs in a goodish wind and they wouldn’t do what JH and his mates did.”

And he wasn’t above speaking his mind on what he sees today. A part of his character that was known to irritate a few of today’s stars.

David Cannon/Getty Images
Alliss, seen and heard by American golf fans on ABC and ESPN, served as the “Voice of Golf” at the BBC for more than 50 years.

“I watch a lot of golf on television these days,” he said not long ago. “Mostly because I don’t want the players to think I don’t know what is going on. Which is rather conceited of me. And sometimes I don’t believe what I am seeing. In Dubai recently I saw a player hit a shot from behind a tree, from rough, over a pond from about 180 yards out. Sure enough, he didn’t even get halfway across the bloody water. That sort of situation happens time and again. No wonder guys like that are also-rans; they don’t have any golfing brains. They don’t know how to play.”

Despite his long relationship with the biennial contest, the Ryder Cup was not immune either. Nor was another of the game’s sacred cows, the Masters.

“The Ryder Cup has taken on a little bit of a false persona, a bit like Augusta and the Masters,” said. “Just as Augusta National is supposed to be the greatest place in the world—it isn’t—the Ryder Cup is supposed to be the greatest golf event in the world—it isn’t either. But, because of the excitement each has generated over the years—the “War on the Shore” and all that other bollocks—it has become something it was never meant to be. Take the whole team-qualifying thing. I think the captains should just pick 12 men each and forget the rankings. It is too hurtful for someone to play quite well, finish 11th and not get picked.”

That ability to verbalize what many others think but never say was perhaps Alliss’ biggest skill during his career as a commentator. Of course, he learned at the feet of the master, former Sunday Times columnist, Henry Longhurst, who was the first journalist to transition successfully into broadcasting.

“I refused to do anything different when commentating in America,” Alliss said. “I certainly refused to say, ‘back side.’ I remember one commentator saying, ‘And here is Faldo at 14, with wind gusting from his rear.’ I thought no, I’m not saying that. For me, it was always a bunker rather than a sand trap. I always tried to do what Longhurst told me: ‘Imagine you are sitting talking to a friend with one program between you.’ If there is nothing to say, it is better to do just that. The one thing I rarely do is take my eyes off the screen. Many people do, which I liken to someone turning to look at you as he drives the car.”

In addition to his TV commentary, Alliss authored 20 books on golf.

He could do it live, too. Towards the end of his life, Alliss toured Great Britain doing a one-man show that involved nothing more than him talking to the audience and answering questions. It was a rousing success, playing to packed houses all over the country.

All of which was good for the Alliss ego, to the point where he turned down an honor from Queen Elizabeth. An OBE (Order of the British Empire) was, he felt, beneath a man of his stature and achievement.

“Yes, I turned down an OBE,” he said. “‘Other Buggers Efforts’ I called it. I was asked if I would accept it for ‘services to golf.’ Which I thought was odd. Why should I get an OBE for doing my job? Now, if it were for all the work I have done with the wheelchair charity I have been involved with, we have raised about £7 million over the years, I could have seen the point. Even then, I just contribute my name and some time. Other people do all the real work. But not for bloody golf! So I said, ‘No.’

“If I was offered a knighthood, I think I would accept. I’d have more fun with it than ‘Sir Nick Faldo’ seems to do. He has that on his golf bag for goodness sake. It would sound better if it was ‘Sir Nicholas Faldo’ but once a Nick, always a Nick.”

David Cannon/Getty Images
Peter Alliss at home with his wife Jackie and their 12 Weimaraner puppies in 2016.

Still, within it all there was a healthy dose of perspective. Life wasn’t always kind to Alliss and his wife, Jackie.

“Our daughter, Victoria, died when she was 10 years old,” he said. “She was very severely handicapped, having no central nervous system. She looked like a doll and hardly made a sound. That changed me. I used to get upset by little things and wonder why someone didn’t say hello for example. But, having had Victoria, I realised that the person who walks past without speaking might have problems I don’t know about. So all those things I used to worry about were eliminated from my life.”

And through his nearly four score years and 10, through the good, the bad and everything else in-between, Alliss was never above a bit of self-deprecation.

“I have no other talents really,” he once said. “I’ve only read about 10 books in my life. My father used to play the guitar and I played the drums until I was about 17. I dreamed of having a little band.”

Maybe in the next life. RIP.

The post Peter Alliss, renowned player and acclaimed commentator, will forever be one of golf’s distinctive characters appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

But it is not surprising in that Fitzgerald, unlike Jim “Bones” Mackay with Phil Mickelson, was occasionally tagged as a poor fit for McIlroy. This perception began as early as 2011, when McIlroy carried a four-shot lead into the final round of the Masters, imploded on the back nine and Fitzgerald appeared to do little to pull him out of the funk. When the BBC’s Jay Townsend, a former European Tour player, suggested that McIlroy should hire a more reputable caddie like Steve Williams, McIlroy fired back on Twitter, and then elaborated on his response in greater detail.

“I’ve got to stand up for my caddie. JP is one of my closest friends, and I’ve had to deal with it for three years and not really say anything and he’s just kept at him and at him. I just had to say something,” McIlroy said at the time. “You know, it’s unfortunate that some people are so opinionated. It started in Switzerland back in 2008. JP has taken me from 200th in the world to major champion and now fourth in the world. I don’t know what it is about Jay or if he has something against JP but some of the criticism that JP takes from him is very unfair.”

Although Fitzgerald, who previously caddied for Paul McGinley and Darren Clarke, has been on the bag for all four of McIlroy’s major wins, he continued to contend with speculation that the player could do better. That sentiment was echoed by players and insiders quoted for a Golf Digest story in this year’s Masters preview. When assessing McIlroy’s chances of contending at Augusta National and completing the career Grand Slam, an underlying theme was that McIlroy needed a stronger voice by his side.

“How often do you see him and [caddie J.P. Fitzgerald] looking at each other in shock after his ball has finished 20 yards over the back?,” the story quotes an observer saying. “If you listen to them on the course, you often hear Rory asking, ‘What happened there?’ More than once I’ve heard J.P. saying something like, ‘OK, hit a soft draw with a 6-iron off that tree.’ And I’ve immediately thought, This ball is going over the green. And sure enough, it does. So you have to wonder. I see Rory up close only occasionally, and I know he’s going to hit the ball over the green when his caddie clearly doesn’t. It makes no sense.

“Rory needs someone to tell him what he needs to hear, not what he wants to hear.” . . . “Why he doesn’t employ Billy Foster is a mystery. Rory would have 10 majors by now if he did.”

“Of course, we know what Rory is like. He’s as stubborn as anyone on tour. The more people tell him that J.P. is not the right caddie for him, the more he’ll keep him on.”

The post Why Rory McIlroy’s caddy switch was something we should have seen coming appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.