American Friends — “the winner of the gold medal and the Champion Golfer of the Year is . . . ” 

These are the words used by the chief executive of the R&A to introduce the new Open Champion each July, just before the Claret Jug is presented. The winner of “The Open” is so declared! 

Strange as this may seem, both history and logic explain what many Americans may feel is a quaint, even archaic, idiosyncratic and . . . er, British ritual. But please don’t call our championship “the British Open” or worse still, “the British” because it’s just plain wrong. Why? Let’s start at the beginning. 

First, the words engraved on the outer lip of the Claret Jug simply read: “The Golf Champion Trophy.” Hence the winner, as the recipient of that trophy, is announced as the “Champion Golfer”.

Second, let’s remember that the first playing of the championship in 1860 was 35 years before the first US Open, 56 years before the first PGA Championship and 74 years before the first Masters Tournament. The expression “major” in its current meaning had not been minted, and so in 1860, the competition for the original “challenge belt” was the only championship around and was known simply as “the Championship.” The next year, organisers declared that the event should “be open to the whole world,” but not until 1872 — when the Claret Jug replaced the belt given to Young Tom Morris for his three straight wins — did the Royal and Ancient first make a reference to “the Open Championship”. 

The expression “British Open” is not historically, geographically or politically accurate. You see, “British” just means “relating to Great Britain,” but Great Britain is a grand name we invented for a small island (comprising England, Scotland and Wales) in the North Atlantic Ocean, off the northwest coast of mainland Europe. Northern Ireland (which has hosted two great Opens and is due another in 2025) is part of the island of Ireland, and although NI is part of the United Kingdom, it is actually not part of Great Britain. By referring to our championship as the “British Open,” the contribution of Northern Ireland is inadvertently obliterated. Please do not be tempted to call it “the UK Open!” If there is an analogy, think about implying Alaska or Hawaii are not part of the United States. That wouldn’t be polite! 

However subtle this may all seem, golf fans in Great Britain and Northern Ireland remain mystified as to why some Americans insist on incorrectly name-checking The Open as the “British Open” or even “the British.” Neither the owners of the Claret Jug (the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews) nor the R&A (which now runs the championship) have ever called it by either name. 

Consider this: No true golf fan would ever consider referring to “the American Open” or “the US Masters” (worse still, the “Masters Championship”) or even the “American PGA Championship,” as each of these great majors has another relatable but distinctively different name by which it is properly known. Why does the same not apply to the oldest major of them all? 

Prestwick Golf Club, as the originally dominant venue, hosted the first 12 Opens, but a good starting point around the styling of the Open is 1919 when a meeting of the Associated Clubs then involved in staging the Championship concluded that the “Royal and Ancient Golf Club be asked to accept the management of the Championship and the custody of the Challenge Cup”. 

Sarah Fabian-Baddiel/Heritage Images/Getty Images

By March 1920, the newly formed Royal and Ancient Championship Committee met to lay out the conditions for “the Competition for the Championship Challenge Trophy,” and in other parts of the minutes of that meeting, reference was made to “the Championship” and “the Open Championship.” 

Clearly in the minds of the leaders of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club, the event, which they now owned, was the “Open Championship.” It was not, never had been (and never would be) “the British Open”, a title neither contemplated nor even mentioned.

By 1927, the official programme designated the event as the “Open Golf Championship.” By 1933, it was “The Open Championship,” and a post-championship booklet in 1946 was simply entitled “Open Reflections.” (Interestingly, there were 28 entries from overseas, including 10 from the United States, one of whom, Sam Snead, prevailed over the Old Course in his only appearance.) In the post-Second World War years, the field gradually became more international, and perhaps this contributed to Americans using “British” to differentiate the championship from their own. Of course, no one did more for the Open than Arnold Palmer, who, to secure his place in the pantheon of the greats, gave it special attention from the era beginning in 1960. As one of only four Americans in the field, he was just beaten into second place by the Centenary Open Champion, Australian Kel Nagle, before winning the next two Opens himself.

Not only did this spark more interest in the Open from other US professionals with international aspirations, it raised the profile and cemented the reputation of the Open as, well, more “open” at a time when securing entry to the US Open was not as easy for non-American players as it is today. In the 40 years to 2000, more than twice as many nations are represented in the list of Open winners than in the list of US Open winners. Even allowing for American strength in depth of field, that statistic is significant.

Around the time of the 1966 Open — the first to be televised live in the United States — the Royal and Ancient Golf Club asked Mark McCormack to negotiate its TV rights, which within 10 years would include Japan. He understood the commercial potential for registering the Open Championship name and negotiated a worldwide agency of a trademark using — for the first time — the expression “British Open” for use in some limited overseas markets. However, the realisation that such a name might suit overseas TV but not the United Kingdom was emphatic. Successive championship committees have been resolute in keeping faith with the original brand, even when some great American winners did not. Contrastingly, golfers in Great Britain and Northern Ireland have always correctly referred to their championship as “the Open.” 

It’s true that the name on the cover of printed souvenir programmes has changed over the years. It moved from “The Open Golf Championship” to “The Open Championship” in 1995, before arriving at “The Open” in 2003. But misnamings by recent Champion Golfers, including Collin Morikawa (2021) and Cameron Smith (2022), have ensured the discussion continues. 

In not one minute of any relevant committee meeting of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club, nor its successor as organiser, the R&A, does the adjective “British” ever appear when describing the championship. 

So come on, Americans. We will always name your three majors properly and respectfully. In exchange, all we ask is the same for our Open, the Open. We may once have invaded your country, but you eventually repelled us and rightly so. Surely we all have got over that spot of local difficulty? Just remember that our nation invented golf, and we shared it with you. That must mean something! 

Ian Pattinson is a former chairman of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews and the R&A.

The post Dear Americans: The Open Championship is not called “The British” appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

By Joel Beall
The R&A announced Wednesday that it has “cautious optimism” its Open Championship will be played this summer.

The Open was the only major to be cancelled last year due to the COVID-19 pandemic, a move made partially due to the various travel and health restrictions in place and also, sources told Golf Digest, because of an insurance policy. It was the first time since 1945 (postponed because of World War II) that the Open wasn’t conducted.

While the pandemic continues to rage across the world, professional golf has been back in the United States since June of last year with the European Tour resuming operations in July, leading to R&A chief executive Martin Slumbers stating his focus on “delivering a fantastic championship for the country and the world of golf.”

Slumbers acknowledged the difficulties that remain with hosting a tournament during a pandemic, and assured fans that the R&A is working with the government and medical advisors in staging the 2021 Open. For the moment Slumbers plans on hosting a “full-scale championship” but also said the R&A has a contingency to host an event with a limited number of fans or one closed off to the public entirely.

“I can also assure you that we would like nothing more than to welcome you, our amazing fans, to the Open once again this July,” Slumbers said. “We will be doing all we can to make that happen while ensuring the safety of all involved and following all necessary government guidance.”

The 149th Open is scheduled to begin July 15 at Royal St. George’s in Sandwich, England. Shane Lowry is the defending champ.

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Did any part of that sentence drive you crazy? Did all of it? If so, you have been conscripted as a soldier on the front lines of golf’s language wars.

I’m not sure exactly why golfers tend to fight about vocabulary more than other fans. It could be a matter of having a lot more time to kill playing the game itself, which carries over into the entire discourse. It could be (I hate to say it), a knock-on effect of whatever elitism remains in the game, where the words we use become a secret code for whether we truly belong. Or maybe it’s none of that, and maybe it doesn’t matter. In any case, I’m not here for a history lesson. I’m here to examine the most prominent debates, and then, using the solemn power vested in me by the Golf Digest byline, to declare a victor once and for all. The decisions that follow will be binding.

1. “Golf” … can it ever be a verb?

I would argue that nothing quite fires up the golf language police like this one, and it has been covered endlessly, including at this very outlet. Golf, the language police say, is a game, and “playing golf” is the activity. Therefore, to say that you’re “golfing,” or that you “want to golf,” or that you “golfed yesterday,” is fundamentally incorrect. (It’s true that you can run or swim or ski or canoe, but those aren’t ball sports and, to me at least, they belong to a different category.) You wouldn’t tell your friends that you “basketballed” or “tennised,” the logic goes, because that would sound weird.

So the question we really need to ask is this: Why does it sound less weird when golf is used as a verb? Why, to the outside world, does it seem pretty normal?

I don’t know if there’s a satisfying answer to that beyond the fact that the English language is full of strange and inexplicable quirks. For example, why is the past tense of the word “go” “went”? There’s definitely some arcane etymological explanation (probably involving Germans), but on the surface it makes no sense. So if golf is a verb, it’s one of our least bizarre anomalies. And, in fact, here’s some bad news: It is a verb, no matter how much serious golfers object. It says so in the Oxford English Dictionary, the authority on our language, and Merriam-Webster agrees—it’s an intransitive verb, just as it’s used in the examples above. (This is also true in France, per some very quick crowd-sourcing.) The anti-verb crowd tend to acknowledge the dictionaries in their arguments, and then go on to say, “too bad, they’re wrong.”

But they’re not. When you boil down the no-verb movement, it seems to be a case of in-group vernacular that gains its power through tradition rather than an actual rule. And to what end? To shame the accidental verb users?

Verdict: Let it go. Golf is a verb, and there are bigger battles to fight.

2. Albatross vs. Double Eagle

Let’s make this one really quick: Why the hell would you ever use double eagle? First and foremost, it’s mathematically bogus. If an eagle is two strokes under par, a double eagle should be four strokes under par. So why is it used for three strokes under par? Second, it lacks creativity. Third, the alternative is “albatross,” which is both fun, unique and not an affront to basic arithmetic.

Verdict: Protect the bald eagle, kill the double eagle.

3. Sand Trap vs. Bunker

Sam Greenwood

When I put the language question out to Twitter, this particular distinction was most common in the replies. I knew the fight existed, but I didn’t realize how contentious it was. In this case, the purists fall on the side of “bunker,” insisting that it’s the only game in town. Most of the initial replies had the same tone as the noun/verb debate, in that they were very indignant without being very specific. When I asked for clarification, this reply was representative:

“There isn’t a single sand trap listed in the rules. They are bunkers. I’m fine with people using a nickname for something—drink or short stuff for instance—but the rules have said forever they are bunkers. Not traps. So I’m sticking with that.”

And another: “Traditionalists consider ‘trap’ to be golf slang, not proper.”

And another: “It’s a rules thing. Bunker is the proper term for what is commonly called a sand trap. Bunker is official terminology, sand trap is just what people say.”

Here again, as with the verb debate, a lot of people seem to be at war with common usage. And again, I keep going back to the fact that when you’re not neck-deep in the traditions and language of golf, and you’re just around the sport casually, you’ll hear “sand trap” all the time. It’s fun to get into debates about this stuff online, but if you were playing with a friend, and that friend said “sand trap,” would you really correct him? And if you would, why? Is it just a way to beat your chest? Is it, dare I say, snobbery? In the English language, we have to make space for evolution. Sand trap is here, and it’s not going away.

Verdict: Bunker is the cooler word, but you’re going to have to accept “sand trap.”

4. Tied vs. All Square (vs. Halved)

This may sound contradictory to the sand trap/bunker debate, but part of what makes a sport like golf fun is that it has its own terminology. Why on earth would you sanitize the game’s patois by saying “tied” like everyone else on the planet? All square is so much better! The USGA and R&A recently implemented an official change in an effort to simplify the language, though they still allowed the more traditional terms. But for me, saying a match was “all square” or that a hole was “halved” was already very intuitive, and unique terms like those are more likely to draw outside fans in because they create, partly through language, a distinct and intriguing world that is nonetheless simple to understand. Reverting to bland terms like “tied” just takes the color out of that world.

Verdict: Given the choice, “all square” and “halved” are better every time.

5. Alternate Shot vs. Foursomes, Better Ball vs. Fourballs

By the logic above, I should support “foursomes” here, but there’s a problem. First, a “foursome” is commonly understood by most human beings as a group of four people, and more specifically a group of four golfers, long before we know that it refers to the alternate shot format in match play. Plus, it’s vague. Unlike “all square” or “halved,” there is nothing in that word that tells you what’s happening. Third, the other pairs format in events like the Ryder Cup is called “fourballs” which sounds very similar. Confront a casual fan with those two terms and ask him to discern which one involves alternating shots, and that fan will have some studying to do. This would be a no-brainer if the foursomes/fourballs terms were more distinct, but instead they’re highly confusing for a new fan.

Verdict: Make every effort to use and understand foursomes and fourballs, but allow the newbies a crutch, and don’t throw a fit if “alternate shot” in particular is used on a TV broadcast.

6. The British Open vs. The Open Championship (or “The Open”)

Ben Stansall

I wrote about this in 2015, and my take then was that nobody should tell Americans they can’t call the fourth major the British Open. I stand by the logic: We call our own tournament the U.S. Open, we don’t care if Aussies or Brits put “U.S.” in front of our Masters or PGA Championship, and therefore we should be allowed to distinguish between our Open and their Open. And I still think “The Open Championship” reeks of exceptionalism. When I wrote that piece, people were wayyyy more upset than I ever imagined they would be, and one British journalist actually blocked me on Twitter as a result. HOWEVER, my opinion has softened over the years. People should be allowed to decide what they want to be called, and the same is true of their golf tournaments. It’s always been called the Open Championship, so for me, it’s no longer a battle worth fighting.

Verdict: This American, at least, will call it the Open Championship in writing. But I won’t insist, and in conversation I’ll almost definitely keep calling it the British Open.

7. Hole Location vs. Pin Placement vs. Pin Location vs. etc.

Hunter Martin

First instinct: For God’s sake, who cares?

Second instinct: Figure out the actual disagreement. It seems that Team Pin believes that “hole location” is dubious since a “hole” technically refers to the entire … hole … and not the much smaller hole that the drill in different locations on the green. Then again, broadcaster Will Haskett says that purists actually don’t like “pin,” because it’s not part of the official terminology, and others say that a pin or a flag is a marker, while the hole is the ultimate target. I am now more confused than ever.

Verdict: Screw it, everyone uses “cup” now.

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Our weekly pre-tournament ranking of the best bets to win The Open.

By Alex Myers
After a U.S. Open in which no one finished at par or better for the week, golf fans can probably expect similar carnage to continue at Carnoustie. The Open returns to the Scottish links known for its difficult conditions and a 1999 event that featured the worst final-hole disaster in golf history and a playoff at six-over par. This year’s winner at “Car-nasty” will need to overcome strong winds and navigate the course’s narrow fairways, deep bunkers, and those fun little burns that gobble up golf balls at a moment’s notice. So who will hoist the claret jug this time? Here’s our weekly look at our favourite contenders.

1. Dustin Johnson (12/1)

Darren Carroll/Getty Images

Reason to pick: He’s the best player in the world and in the prime of his career so it makes sense that he’s the Vegas favourite. Plus, as we saw at Shinnecock (at least, for three of the four days), his low, piercing ball flight is perfect for contending at wind-swept links courses.
Cause for concern: What doesn’t make sense is DJ only having one major title as part of his 18 PGA Tour wins. Whether it be poor putting (Shinnecock) or poor decision making (Whistling Straits and Royal St. George’s), Johnson has let more than his fair share of big ones slip through his gifted hands. The good news is he’s still got plenty of time before being labelled this era’s Greg Norman.

2. Justin Rose (16/1)

David Cannon

Reason to pick: My pick to win the U.S. Open looked prophetic until a disastrous Sunday dropped him to T-10. Still, the World No. 3 rarely has an off week or weekend, and when he does (like at Shinnecock), his scrambling and putting skills have allowed him to hang around the leaderboard.
Cause for concern: Hanging around the leaderboard isn’t the same as winning. And it’s now been five years since that major breakthrough at Merion that was supposed to “open the floodgates.” Also, Rose has a spotty Open record with his best finish coming all the way back when he was 17.

3. Rickie Fowler (16/1)

Mike Ehrmann/Getty Images

Reason to pick: He finished T-20 at the U.S. Open despite shooting an 84(!) in one of the rounds.
Cause for concern: He shot an 84 at the U.S. Open after playing himself into contention. Granted, it came on a day when the USGA admitted it had crossed the line in setting up the golf course. But still, while Fowler isn’t worried he’ll eventually start winning majors, we can’t say the same for some of his fans.

4. Patrick Reed (30/1)

Stan Badz

Reason to pick: Admit it, you thought we were halfway to the REED SLAM when the reigning Masters champ birdied five of his first seven holes on Sunday at Shinnecock Hills. Even though his rally came up short, Reed has beaten all but four golfers in the past three majors.
Cause for concern: Can Captain America’s game travel overseas in a non-Ryder Cup event? Reed has two missed cuts, a T-20 and a T-12 in four Open Championship starts.

5. Tommy Fleetwood (20/1)

Patrick Smith/Getty Images

Reason to pick: Did you see that final round at Shinnecock Hills?! Fleetwood nearly stole the tournament with a 63 that was so good it left him disappointed he didn’t shoot lower.
Cause for concern: The only thing we don’t like about this brilliant ball-striker is that his odds are about half what they were at the U.S. Open.

6. Henrik Stenson (25/1)

David Cannon

Reason to pick: The last time The Open was played in Scotland, Stenson put forth one of the greatest performances in golf history.
Cause for concern: While his ball-striking stats (2nd in strokes gained approach) are as good as ever, Stenson’s scrambling (151s in strokes gained around the green) could be the difference at a place where greens in regulation aren’t easy to find like Carnoustie.

7. Brooks Koepka (20/1)

Streeter Lecka/Getty Images

Reason to pick: Koepka just won a second consecutive U.S. Open on a course that’s as close to a Scottish link as America has to offer. Plus, he earned his (Nike) stripes playing in Europe before becoming a PGA Tour star.
Cause for concern: The World No. 4 still only has 3 PGA Tour titles. Puzzling.

8. Sergio Garcia (30/1)

Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Reason to pick: With 10 top 10s, including two runner-ups, The Open is the major that Sergio should have won first. It’s also the reason I pick him every year to win. . .
Cause for concern: So far, he’s never come through for me. And one of those runner-ups — his most painful close call — came right here at Carnoustie in a playoff in 2007. Hopefully, Garcia doesn’t switch over to the Golf Channel between now and the conclusion of this year’s tournament.

9. Jordan Spieth (14/1)

Jamie Squire

Reason to pick: He’s the defending champ (albeit at a different course) and the slower green speeds at The Open allow him to putt more aggressively (See: That 50-foot eagle bomb he dropped on Matt Kuchar on Sunday last year).
Cause for concern: Spieth has struggled more the past couple months than at any point during his (brief) pro career. Since a solo third at the Masters, his best finish is a T-21 at the Byron Nelson, and he missed back-to-back cuts at the Memorial and U.S. Open. Of course, he could change this narrative quickly with a strong defence of his Travelers Championship title this week. . .

10. Jason Day (25/1)

Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Reason to pick: The Aussie has shown glimpses this season that he’s ready to go on another run back to the top of the Official World Ranking with two wins (Torrey Pines, Quail Hollow) and a runner-up at Pebble Beach.
Cause for concern: As we saw at Shinnecock, his high ball flight isn’t always conducive to windy conditions. Plus, Carnoustie is anything but a bomb-and-gouge track. Of course, being the best putter on the PGA Tour always helps, and 25/1 are pretty long odds for a golfer this talented. . .

11. Justin Thomas (16/1)

Jamie Squire/Getty Images

Reason to pick: He’s still just a few weeks removed from a stint at World No. 1, and he is still tied for the PGA Tour lead with two victories this season. JT’s poorest major stat is strokes gained around-the-green and he still gains strokes on the field in that category.
Cause for concern: Thomas’ first two turns at The Open have resulted in a T-53 in 2016 and a missed cut last year despite opening with 67 on both occasions. It’s a small sample size, but as we’ve seen with golfers throughout the years, links golf is an acquired skill if you didn’t grow up playing it (See: Phil Mickelson).

12. Tiger Woods (25/1)

Richard Heathcote/Getty Images

Reason to pick: A man with a self-professed love of links golf, Woods finished a solid T-7 (At +10 in 1999!) and T-12 in his two Opens at Carnoustie. And he has had arguably his two best chances of snapping that major championship drought in this tournament in 2012 and 2013. That being said. . .
Cause for concern: His major championship drought is now officially more than a decade. And a missed cut at Shinnecock Hills showed there are plenty of holes in his golf game right now.

13. Rory McIlroy (14/1)

Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Reason to pick: We all know what he’s capable of, and he’s snapped out of “slumps” at the Open before. In 2014 he won at Liverpool and then won the WGC-Bridgestone and PGA Championship his next two starts for good measure. However, that 14/1 price is a bit steep right now. . .
Cause for concern: While McIlroy’s putting is about as good as it’s ever been (55th in strokes gained), he’s lost his huge edge with the driver. Still, 27th in strokes gained off-the-tee, he had ranked first twice and third once in the previous three seasons where he’s had enough PGA Tour starts to qualify in the category. He’ll need to be particularly on with the big dog if he’s to contend at Carnoustie.

The post The top 13 picks to win The Open at Carnoustie appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

Leonard, who now works for NBC Sports/Golf Channel, has put up his Aspen property for a cool $15.9 million. According to Realtor.com, Leonard—who is an avid skier—purchased the home in 2015 for $9.45 million. The listing says the 5,500-square-foot abode “has been remodeled to perfection.”  

And before you ask, yes, there is a photo of Leonard sinking the clinching putt at the 1999 Ryder Cup.  

No word if the claret jug comes with the purchase.

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