Claret Jug Archives - Golf Digest Middle East

Open Championship 2023: 13 things you might not know about the claret jug

Clarkwin — Tue, 18 Jul 2023 04:52:51 +0000

Paul Ellis

There is room for debate as to whether the claret jug is the most iconic item awarded to a tournament winner in golf, a chorus of folks representing a sleepy town in Georgia likely arguing that a certain emerald blazer has an awful lot of cachet, too. Where there is no uncertainty is this: The claret jug is the best mulligan in golf history.

The trophy that has become synonymous with the Open Championship was not handed out for the first time until 1873, 13 years after Willie Park Sr. won the inaugural playing of the event at Prestwick Golf Club. In lieu of a cash prize for the winner, Park was awarded the Challenge Belt, something akin to boxing hardware made of red Moroccan leather with an oversize silver buckle and emblems adorning the front.

The belt was given to subsequent winners, but each had to return it to Prestwick’s club secretary. Tournament rules stipulated that no golfer would earn permanent possession of the belt unless they won the Open three straight years. Lo and behold, Young Tom Morris did just that in winning the Open in 1868-’70.

Without anything to hand out to future winners—no tournament was played in 1871 because of this very dilemma, according to the Open website—members at Prestwick, the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers and the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews met to come up with an alternative prize. On Sept. 11, 1872, each club agreed to pitch in £10 to purchase the celebrated trophy we think of today.

With this backstory in mind, here are 13 more things you might not know about the claret jug.

1. The claret jug actually has a formal name: The Golf Champion Trophy.

2. The original jug was made by Mackay Cunningham & Company of Edinburgh.

3. The claret jug is 20¾ inches tall with its base and 5½ inches in diameter at its widest (the base is 7¼ inches in diameter). It weighs roughly 5½ pounds. It’s 92.5 per cent sterling silver.

4. The first golfer formally awarded the jug was Tom Kidd, when he won at St. Andrews in 1873. However, his is not the first name that was engraved on the trophy. Young Tom Morris, winner of the Open for a fourth time in 1872, has his name above Kidd’s out of deference to the fact that the trophy had been commissioned but was not ready when Morris was victorious the previous year. Morris was given a gold medal, which also became an annual award given to the champion.

5. The original claret jug was awarded to 28 different golfers through 1927 when the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews decided to put it on permanent display (well, almost permanent) in its clubhouse along with the original Challenge Belt, which was donated back by the Morris Family. Since then, a full-scale Champions’ replica has been presented to each winner, starting in 1928 with Walter Hagen.

6. The Open winner is allowed to keep the claret jug for a year before returning it to the R&A ahead of the next Open Championship. The R&A has turned “the return” into a highly choreographed ceremony in recent years.

The 2021 Champion Golfer of the Year returns the Claret Jug to The R&A ? Can @Collin_Morikawa win it again this week?#The150thOpen @MercedesBenz #PerfectDrive #MBGolf #MercedesBenz pic.twitter.com/ZQIvhtUEvB

— The Open (@TheOpen) July 11, 2022

7. Though winners must hand back the permanent claret jug, they do receive a full-size replica to keep and can order up to three smaller replicas.

8. Mistakenly, Tom Watson was given the original claret jug (from 1873) when he won the 1982 Open at Royal Troon. It was a mistake compounded by the fact that Watson accidentally knocked the trophy off a table in his house taking a practice golf swing, denting part of it. Watson took the trophy to his basement workshop, put it in a vice and bent it back into place.

9. There are three other replica jugs: one in the British Museum of Golf at St. Andrews and two others used for travelling exhibitions.

10. Prior to 1968, it was the champion’s responsibility to have his name engraved on the trophy before returning it. However, when Roberto De Vicenzo forgot to have it done, the R&A took the responsibility back and created the tradition of having an engraver (first Alex Harvey and now his son, Garry) on-site to do the honours prior to handing the trophy to the winner each year.

Mark Runnacles/R&A

11. There is a typo on the jug. The engraver who put in the 1947 entry for Fred Daly mistakenly wrote Hoylake as “Holylake.”

12. There are any number of stories of winners taking the claret jug to exotic spots to celebrate their victories. Our vote for the most unusual: Henrik Stenson strapping the claret jug into a life preserver while water skiing after his 2016 victory.

This might be a first…Champion Golfer of the Year @HenrikStenson takes the Claret Jug jet skiing!
(via @cnn) pic.twitter.com/22ETxyvwdg

— The Open (@TheOpen) November 19, 2016

13. Several champions have told stories of drinking various concoctions from the jug (it is a 19th-century design that was used to serve claret, a dry red wine from the Bordeaux region of France). But the strangest thing to inhabit the jug might have been a collection of ladybugs. Padraig Harrington promised his son, Patrick, he could put the insects into the jug after the 2006 Open win at Carnoustie. Harrington had ladybugs engraved on the replica jug that he kept.

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Dear Americans: The Open Championship is not called “The British”

Clarkwin — Tue, 11 Jul 2023 04:00:59 +0000

Jerry Cooke/Sports Illustrated/Getty Images

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.

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Cameron Smith returns to Australia for the first time in three years — and takes the Claret Jug on a victory lap

Golf Digest Middle East — Wed, 23 Nov 2022 06:15:04 +0000

By Evin Priest
The Claret Jug is one of the most famous trophies in sports, engraved with the names of many of the most iconic golfers in history. Each year, the winner of the Open Championship receives a replica to show off for 12 months and then hand back the following year.

As significant as it may be in the golf world, the Claret Jug does not, however, get any special treatment by security staff at Los Angeles International Airport. This is something that its current holder, Cameron Smith, found out recently on a long journey back to his native Australia.

Smith, who won the 150th Open at St Andrews in July, recently undertook the 9,000-mile trek from his base in Jacksonville, Florida, to his home in Brisbane to compete in this week’s Australian PGA Championship. Upon arrival at LAX, airport security made Smith open the travelling case in which the trophy was kept so that they could perform a very routine bomb search before the 15-hour flight to Australia’s east coast.

Once Smith, his father, Des, and childhood best friend and support staffer, Jack Wilkosz, had touched down in Sydney, there was another Claret Jug curve ball: the case for the trophy, which is 20¾ inches tall and 7¼ inches wide at its base, wouldn’t fit in the overhead for the final flight from Sydney to Brisbane. In the end, airline staff allowed the 29-year-old Smith to stash the jug in the compartment where jackets are kept for business class passengers.

Cameron Smith willl be playing in this week’s Australian PGA Championship and next week’s Australian Open. Bradley Kanaris

Some 30 hours of travel later, Smith was in his homeland after a three-year absence caused by Australia’s harsh COVID-19 border restrictions.

“Cam had a window seat flying into ‘Brissie’ and his eyes were glued to the view outside after a long time away,” Wilkosz told Golf Digest on Tuesday at Royal Queensland Golf Club, host of the Australian PGA. Smith added: “I’ve teared up a few times since I’ve been home. Seeing family and friends, doing stuff I haven’t been able to do for three years, has made it emotional.”

When he arrived at Brisbane airport last Thursday, Smith was swarmed by media and hundreds of Australian fans wanting a photo with one of the country’s most talked-about athletes in 2022 — a golf star who sports a famous mullet and who won three big events, including the Open Championship at the Home of Golf, then controversially left the PGA Tour circuit to join the rival LIV Golf series.

“It’s insane,” Smith said of Australians’ reactions to the Claret Jug so far. “It’s like they’ve seen a ghost the first time they’ve seen it.”

The Claret Jug’s tour Down Under then made a sentimental stop at Smith’s childhood home course, Wantima Country Club, last Saturday. It’s not really a country club as such, more a blue-collar, publicly accessible golf club 30 minutes north of Brisbane where Smith honed his game before moving onto Royal Queensland as an elite teenage amateur. Wantima hosted a celebration for Smith and 200 members inside its modest clubhouse. Smith sat down for a 45-minute Q&A session before passing the jug.

“It was an amazing night for members,” said Jason Patterson, Wantima’s general manager on Tuesday as he showed Golf Digest several proud, but understated, shrines to Smith inside the clubhouse. “Everyone got photos of the jug and some were holding it like a baby.”

Smith adds: “It was pretty neat for a little club like that on the north side of Brisbane to have that jug in the clubhouse, something those people will never forget.”

The homecoming formalities were turned up a notch on Tuesday morning when Brisbane mayor Adrian Schrinner handed the key to the city to Smith, the 52nd recipient to receive the honour but the first golfer. “Not in my wildest dreams did I ever think I’d get the key,” Smith said, before joking that “thought it was for important people, not golfers”.

Upon Cameron Smith’s return to Brisbane, the city’s Lord Mayor, Adrian Schrinner, gave him a key to the city. Bradley Kanaris

Smith then held a press conference at Royal Queensland to talk about his primary purpose for coming back to Australia: to try and win a third Australian PGA Championship, having won the 2017 and 2018 edition, and to try to earn a maiden Australian Open win next week in Melbourne. Smith came close at the 2016 Australian Open when he lost in a playoff to Jordan Spieth at Royal Sydney. This week, he’ll face strong competition from solid players such as 2013 Masters winner Adam Scott, Lucas Herbert and Cam Davis, as well as DP World Tour star Ryan Fox from New Zealand and Min Woo Lee. But after some rest following LIV Golf’s Team Championship in Miami last month, where Smith took his all-Australian team to second-place finish the World No. 3 is feeling good.

“I took a couple of weeks off, and now I feel probably more mentally fresh than I ever have coming down to Australia,” Smith said. “The golf course looks great so it should be a good week.”

After this upcoming stretch of golf, Smith will take almost two months off and remain in Australia before LIV’s second season starts in February. He said he was confident he could arrive at the majors in 2023 competitively sharp, despite LIV’s format of 54 holes and no 36-hole cut. If nothing else, he says he’s motivated to win another Open so that he can keep that Claret Jug for another year.

“I think coming close in a few majors has made me really hungry. I felt like I should have had one before this, but I’m happy this was the first one,” Smith said, referencing his close calls at the Masters, including a tie for third behind final-group partner Scottie Scheffler at Augusta this year and a share of second to Dustin Johnson at the 2020 Masters. “I think I can do it. [St Andrews] something that I’ll never forget. It still hasn’t sunk in. I still can’t believe I won it. I don’t want to give it back. I want to keep hanging onto it.”

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LOOK: Cameron Smith struggles to get Claret Jug in overhead storage on commercial flight out of Scotland after Open Championship

Matt Smith — Tue, 19 Jul 2022 13:37:06 +0000

By Matt Smith
Cameron Smith may have been struggling a little more than normal as he boarded his flight back to Florida from Scotland on Monday, given the late-night partying that followed his now-famous Open Championship triumph at St Andrews. But while the Australian may seen untouchable on the course and has now etched his name in golfing history, he still has his feet on the ground — event when preparing for take-off.

Smith won $2.5 million for his success on the Old Course, but instead of kicking back on a private jet from Edinburgh to Jacksonville, the mulleted Queenslander flew commercially and was snapped getting more than he bargained for while trying to stow his the additional baggage he picked up in Scotland — the Claret Jug.

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We hope he managed to squeeze it in there without a ding and didn’t have to check it in, because it looks he will be reluctant to let it out of his reach for a long time to come.

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Royal Troon to host 2023 Open, 100 years after first holding the championship

Golf Digest Middle East — Wed, 26 Feb 2020 04:32:46 +0000

(Photo by David Cannon/Getty Images)

By Joel Beall
Royal Troon has been selected to host the 2023 Open Championship.

The announcement was made on Tuesday by the R&A. It will be the 10th time Troon has been an Open venue, and 100 years since the claret jug first visited the famed links.

“We are very much looking forward to celebrating another milestone in the cherished history of the Open when we mark the 100th anniversary of the Championship first being played at Royal Troon,” Martin Slumbers, chief executive of the R&A, said in a statement.

Although the centennial celebration made Troon a logical pick, it’s noteworthy that Turnberry and Muirfield were bypassed once again. The Open hasn’t been to Turnberry since 2009, whereas Troon hosted the event in 2016. Due to President Donald Trump’s ownership of the property, a tournament at Turnberry could become a politically charged event, a situation the R&A would like to avoid until his presidency is complete.

“Turnberry is a fantastic golf course and will be a great venue when we get there,” Slumbers said last year “It would be very complex having an Open at Turnberry at the moment. You’ve got the ownership issue of the course and the staging there. But there are a number of other courses we haven’t been to for a few years, and we are looking forward to going back to all of them.”

As for Muirfield, the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers were briefly removed from the Open rota after it failed to permit women into the club. However the club amended its vote, and last year invited its first 12 female members in its 275 years of existence. Muirfield has hosted the Open 16 times, the most behind only St. Andrews and Prestwick, its last tournament coming in 2013.

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Shane Lowry’s grandma gave the greatest post-round interview in Open Championship history

Golf Digest Middle East — Tue, 23 Jul 2019 06:23:50 +0000

By Alex Myers
We expected great content to come from Shane Lowry’s claret jug celebrations in the wake of his popular six-shot win at the 148th Open Championship. And so far, so good. But the best thing to surface in the 24 hours since Shane’s maiden major victory came from an unlikely source: His grandmother.

In an adorable—and hilarious—chat with RTE News, Emily Scanlon gushes about how proud she is of her grandson. But she also says that Sunday’s final round drove her to drink. And not in celebration.

When asked how it was watching the drama unfold, here was her fantastic response:

“Oh, terrible. Emotional now, it was,” Scanlon says. “I hadn’t slept last night. I hadn’t drank a brandy since 2009 and I drank two yesterday—it’s nearly killing me.”

Amazing. Here’s the (instant) classic clip that might be the greatest post-round interview in Open Championship history:

https://www.instagram.com/p/B0OCRBmIkAj/?utm_source=ig_embed

So good. As you can see, Scanlon also tells a story about how young Shane “thought he was Tiger Woods” after winning a local junior event. What a great dagger from grandma. But, obviously, she was mostly ecstatic that her grandson is now a major champion.

“Oh, I am a proud granny. Oh, I am,” Scanlon added. “It’s great to live and see all this happen, you know.”

Hopefully, she’ll get to sip some brandy from the claret jug next. In moderation, of course.

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The Open 2019: 13 things you might not know about the claret jug

Golf Digest Middle East — Tue, 16 Jul 2019 05:05:14 +0000

Charles McQuillan/R&A
The claret jug presented to the winner of the Open Championship is pictured at Royal Portrush Golf Club.

By Ryan Herrington
There is room for debate as to whether the claret jug is the most iconic item awarded to a tournament winner in golf, a chorus of folks representing a sleepy town in Georgia likely arguing that a certain emerald blazer has an awful lot of cachet, too. Where there is no uncertainty is this: The claret jug is the best mulligan in golf history.

With this backstory in mind, here are 13 more things you might not know about the claret jug.

1. The claret jug actually has a formal name: The Golf Champion Trophy.

2. The original jug was made by Mackay Cunningham & Company of Edinburgh.

3. The claret jug is 20¾ inches tall with its base and 5½ inches in diameter at its widest (the base is 7¼ inches in diameter). It weighs roughly 5½ pounds. It’s 92.5 percent sterling silver.

5. The original claret jug was awarded to 28 different golfers through 1927, when the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews decided to put it on permanent display (well, almost permanent) in its clubhouse along with the original Challenge Belt, which was donated back by the Morris Family. Since then, a full-scale Champions’ replica has been presented to each winner, starting in 1928 with Walter Hagen.

The superb 2017 Champion Golfer of the Year @JordanSpieth has returned The Claret Jug to The @RandA ahead of The 147th Open Championship #TheOpen pic.twitter.com/vMd2mpacEe

— The Open (@TheOpen) July 16, 2018

7. Though winners must hand back the permanent claret jug, they do receive a full-size replica to keep and can order up to three smaller replicas.

9. There are three other replica jugs: one in the British Museum of Golf at St. Andrews and two others used for traveling exhibitions.

10. Prior to 1968, it was the champion’s responsibility to have his name engraved on the trophy before returning it. However, when Roberto De Vicenzo forgot to have it done, the R&A took the responsibility back and created the tradition of having an engraver (first Alex Harvey and now his son, Gary) on site to do the honours prior to handing the trophy to the winner each year.

R&A Championships

11. There is a typo on the jug. The engraver who put in the 1947 entry for Fred Daly mistakenly wrote Hoylake as “Holylake.”

This might be a first…Champion Golfer of the Year @HenrikStenson takes the Claret Jug jet skiing!
(via @cnn) pic.twitter.com/22ETxyvwdg

— The Open (@TheOpen) November 19, 2016

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The Open 2019: What Tom Watson learned from Turnberry

Golf Digest Middle East — Wed, 10 Jul 2019 03:13:17 +0000

Shortly after just missing out on a sixth Open Championship title in 2009, at age 59, Watson offered some lessons you can take from his experience

By Bob Verdi

Editors’ note: Tom Watson’s recollections of his near-miss at the 2009 Open Championship at Turnberry first appeared in the October 2009 issue of Golf Digest, shortly after he lost in a playoff to Stewart Cink and his bid, at 59, to be a six-time Open champion and the oldest winner of a major came to an end.

• • •

WHAT I TOOK AWAY from the British Open at Turnberry, among a lot of different emotions, is a real hurt that I did not finish the job. That’s the bottom line in any game you play. I hit two good shots on the 72nd hole, and it didn’t work out. That can happen in links golf. What I took away between the British and U.S. Senior Opens is bad plumbing. I had a meal over there, and my caddie, Neil Oxman, had warned me: Don’t eat Chinese or pizza in the United Kingdom. I went Chinese.

NEIL WAS WORKING for Labron Harris Jr. when he introduced me to Bruce [Edwards, Watson’s longtime caddie who died of ALS in 2004] in St. Louis in 1973. Neil pointed Bruce my way, and we formed a long-lasting relationship. Bruce was looking down on Turnberry. I know that. That was part of the spiritual experience over there: Let’s give it one more ride, Tom. One more ride they won’t forget, boss, before you head off into the sunset.

SERGIO GARCIA was in our threesome on Thursday and Friday. In the second round, after a first round when there was no wind, I knew going out on the front nine would be difficult. I didn’t handle it real well. Sergio came over and said, “C’mon, old man”—in a nice way—right when I was struggling. That helped get me going.

EVEN WITH THE LEAD Saturday, I wasn’t jumping out of my skin. I kept my tee ball in play, which you have to do over there. I’m not as good off tight lies as I used to be. I hit it thinner sometimes now. But my go-to punch was my tee ball, and I felt confident about that during practice rounds. I’ve always been a good wind player. You don’t lose that. You lose other things maybe, not that.

I REMEMBERED what Greg Norman had done the year before, when he led the British Open by a stroke at the turn Sunday [at age 53]. I was telecasting for ABC. I said there was no reason he couldn’t do well. I was supposed to do the same TV job at Turnberry on the weekend but was otherwise occupied. When you’re in the last group, there’s not a lot of chance to be in the booth.

I SLEPT FINE Saturday night, before the final round. My game plan was to make one more birdie than bogey over the last 18 holes. I thought that would have done the job, and it would have, but I didn’t pull it off. I made two more bogeys than birdies. I was nervous on Sunday, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was a good nervous. Saturday was the day that was interesting. As gentle a round as I’ve ever played in a major, as far as what I felt inside. I made a joke after the round that my nerves were fried, but that’s just what it was, a joke.

I’VE HEARD that on Sunday, Mathew Goggin was clapping for me as we came to the 72nd green in the last twosome. Then, apparently, Stewart Cink did the same on No. 18 in the playoff. Didn’t see it. Just heard about it. That just tells you, it’s all about the game, not me. Our sport is unique in that way, the conduct of our players and the respect for the game. Jack Nicklaus has always had the reputation of being a great loser—in the good sense. If you get beat, you tip your hat to the guy who beat you, just as he did with me in 1977 at Turnberry. If you can’t do that, there’s something wrong with you. A lot of sports are dog-eat-dog, but golf is different. This is our job—we try to whip the other guy—but it’s different.

Richard Heathcote/Getty Images
Watson just misses his par putt for victory on the 18th green at Turnberry.

PEOPLE SAID I was smiling a lot, maybe more than any other player. How could you not, with the reception I was getting at every green?

ONE DO-OVER? I’d probably hit the 8-iron easier to the 72nd. I had 170 yards to the front, 164 to the right front, where you didn’t want to go because the green runs out to the right. So I hit it at the flag. Didn’t really see it because I can’t see anymore, but Andy North [ABC commentator] said it hit one foot on the green. You’d think I could stop it, but that crest was probably the driest part of the green.

FROM THE COLLAR behind the 18th hole on Sunday, I went with the theory that your worst putt is better than your worst chip—even with the success I’ve had chipping. The ball was sitting down; I could have stubbed a sand wedge and left it short. It was uphill and into the wind; the grain was against me. Problem is, the ball started bouncing. It came out of that lie bouncing, and hot.

MOST DISAPPOINTING was the putt to win in regulation. During Monday’s practice round, I made a slight adjustment in my putting stroke. I wanted to make sure I went more square to square. For the most part, I kept that thought throughout the week, and that’s what I was trying to think on the eight-footer on Sunday: Square to square; do what you’ve been doing; think what you’ve been thinking. But I took the club a little inside and never did get it in position. I blocked it with my left hand. Never released. Went right. Awful. I said I didn’t want to see a replay, but maybe I should, so I don’t do that again next time. Awful.

I GUESS HILARY [Watson’s wife] had her eyes closed on that last putt of regulation. She couldn’t bear to watch. Just as well. Maybe I should have used a designated putter. When it was all over, Hilary gave me a hug and said, “You did what you could do.” But I might never have another chance to beat the kids again.

WHEN YOU’RE PLAYING in the wind, you always have two clubs in mind before a shot. At least I do, and I did consider a 9-iron on the approach to the 72nd hole. The pin was about 20 yards back; it was between a 9 and an 8. I wound up using 8-iron, and I don’t second-guess myself there. I don’t know what would have happened had I hit 9-iron, but I don’t feel like it was a mistake.

NEITHER DID JACK. He called after I went to dinner Sunday night and said some nice things. He said, “You hit two perfect shots on the 72nd hole and made the right decision to putt the ball from the back of the green.” That took a little of the hurt out of what I was feeling, hearing from Jack. Jack said he watched the entire Sunday round on TV, something he would never do. Pretty cool. Most of the week, I’d been going back and forth with Barbara, texting on the cell phone. She made a point to let me know that she and Jack were pulling for me, telling me I looked great and all that. Which was also nice.

‘It’s the outcome that matters, not whether you hung in there at 59 and put on a good show.’

JACK AND BARBARA were there in 1994, after I’d lost [Watson was one off the lead entering the final round but shot a closing 74 to finish T-11]. We went to the little pitch-and-putt course right in front of the Turnberry Hotel. We played until we couldn’t see much anymore, just us and our wives, having a good time. We didn’t keep score or anything, and there were no winners or losers. Just having a good time.

AS MUCH AS IT HURT ME to lose this year, I could also feel how people there felt. It would have been a great story for you guys. When I came into the press tent after and saw all those long faces, that’s why I said, “This ain’t a funeral.”

THE THRILL of competing is tremendous, and the vibes I felt from those people and my peers during the week at Turnberry will never go away. After all, you lose in this game more often than you win. A lot more often. I’ve always been able to take defeat or disappointment and make lemonade out of it. Like Bobby Jones said, “You never learn in victory. You only learn in defeat.” It was a magical week, maybe my last chance to do something, and those feelings of warmth took a little of the sting out of it. I was humbled. Totally humbled.

BUT IT’S THE OUTCOME that matters, not whether you hung in there at 59 and put on a good show and almost made for a hell of a story. Some of the writers were kind, saying it was a great story anyway. I say, almost. I had it within my grasp, I was in a good frame of mind, I wasn’t nervous, but I let it slip away, and then in the playoff, I just didn’t put up much of a fight. More bad swings in four holes than in four days? Sure looked that way. Only one guy finished. I felt a great sense of serenity during the week. And deep, deep disappointment after.

WE WENT to Wildings that night. Hilary, me and a couple friends. Great restaurant; went there five times that week. Walked in, and everybody stood up. Pretty cool. Nice dinner, then after, I signed some stuff and took pictures. One—with some really nice-looking young girls—wound up on the front page of one of those tabs.

J.D. Cuban
After his playoff victory, Cink looks at the claret jug with Watson and low amateur Matteo Manassero.

ON THE PLANE TO LONDON the next day, another nice ovation. The night between was tough, though. You’re not human if you don’t play “What if?” You tend to look at failures instead of good bounces, the eight-footer you miss instead of the 60-footers you make.

HOW SO MANY people got my e-mail address, I don’t know. People I’ve contacted maybe once in my life. I heard from friends, of course: Sandy Tatum, Rush Limbaugh, Barbara and Jack. But hundreds from so many others I don’t really stay in touch with.

MICHAEL, MY SON, was morose. He’s 26, in commercial real estate back in Kansas City. I called him the Monday after, and he cried. I let the conversation end. Ten minutes later, I called him again and went over with him what it really meant. It’s only a game. I’ve cried before, but not then. I got messages from guys in Iraq I met two years ago on a USO Tour. I was affected by that, and still am. I’ve since played with men who didn’t have a left arm or a right arm. Or they left their legs over there. What they’re doing, that’s pressure. That’s not a game. Not an eight-footer.

THING IS, I MADE a lot of putts at Turnberry. Not just the no-brainers, but six- and 10-footers. If I had played the way I played from tee to green and made nothing, well, it would have been like 1994. Nick Price won that year at Turnberry, and that was more disappointing than this year, when I missed one chance to win on the 72nd hole. In 1994, I had a dozen opportunities. I putted terribly.

LINKS ARE GREAT EQUALISERS. If you’re not playing well, you’ll hit it in the hay. So I don’t agree that a 59-year-old guy almost winning reflects badly on the younger generation. The notion that they can’t finish, well, Stewart Cink finished. He drilled me in the playoff. And I feel bad he didn’t receive the adulation he deserved. Good man, faith, family. Did it the right way. After it was over, I told Stewart, “You wear this well … enjoy it.” Those of us inside the curtain know what it takes.

IT’S NOT OUT OF THE REALM of possibility that equipment had something to do with how well I did at Turnberry. The ball flies straighter than ever, and it goes farther. Obviously, straight is good on the links. On Sunday, after a birdie at No. 11, I hit my tee ball off line left on No. 12, but I caught a break when the ball hit a spectator and dropped in a perfect lie. I hit a 4-iron onto the green. I think I knocked it into only a couple fairway bunkers all week. I also used my hybrid 25 times in four days there. My Adams 18-degree. That was my sword. That’s about equipment, too. Not to say I couldn’t have done what I did with a 2-iron, but 2-irons are harder to hit than hybrids. Technology.

One do-over? I’d probably hit the 8-iron easier to the 72nd.

EQUIPMENT DOESN’T HELP me at Augusta National, which is why I said I’m a ceremonial golfer there and too hardheaded not to play at all. I can’t play No. 5 very well in the Masters, or No. 14 or No. 17. I just can’t go in there with a short-enough iron to hold those greens. At Turnberry, you can run some balls up on the greens, but you can’t really do that at Augusta. But they did what they did there for a reason, even though some guys who’ve won there recently aren’t bombers, like Mike Weir and Zach Johnson. Turnberry hasn’t changed my mind about my chances at Augusta, though.

I SAID SUNDAY NIGHT that I hope to be remembered as a hell of a golfer by my peers. I also hope people remember me for doing what I did the right way. I’ve made mistakes. We all do. But I’ve tried to live my life the right way.

I WAS ASKED about Tiger and how he played, and why he missed the cut. Well, I don’t know how he played because I never saw him play. If you’re off, if you’re not playing well on the links, you’re in trouble, no matter who you are. If you’re the No. 1 player in the world and you aren’t swinging the club the way you want to, your ball is going to wind up in some bad places. Which is where I wound up on No. 17, the third playoff hole. I was disappointed, yes, after not winning in regulation, but it’s not like I wasn’t ready for more. On that hole, though, I tried to hold the ball up in the crosswind off the tee and basically lost control of the club. I hooked it, big time, into the hay, and that killed me. Pull-hooked it into the hay, and it was pretty much over.

HOW CAN SOMEONE who doesn’t dominate on the Champions Tour go over there against the kids and almost win a British Open at age 59? I don’t know. Stealth and treachery? What can I say? There are horses for courses, and I had a good feel for Turnberry the minute I got there.

WHETHER PART OF THE REASON I can compete on occasions such as Turnberry is because I’m in decent shape, well, I come from good genes. I’ve also stopped smoking cigars. I was smoking too many, not on the course, but maybe eight or 10 of those little ones every day on the farm. Didn’t inhale, but my grandfather died of throat cancer.

J.D. Cuban
Watson’s one do-over from the round: hitting this 8-iron a little easier on the 72nd hole.

IN 1982, WHEN I WON the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, I was probably 175 pounds. Now, I’m 180. I had a left-hip replacement last October, and that’s worked out well. Right after you have one of those, they have you up and moving around. I don’t know that it’s helped so much with my golf game. I did it for quality of life. I had trouble sleeping because of the pain. No more.

I DON’T DRINK ALCOHOL anymore. I quit cold turkey, four or five years ago. Like cigars, I was doing too much of it, and I didn’t like myself when I was drinking. We’ve all been around people who drink too much, and they’re not pleasant to be around. Friends told me I was one of those people. I don’t remember my kids saying anything. But friends told me, and that’s what friends are for. Amazing when you’re sober how things look different. I don’t miss it, not at all.

MY SWING might look the same as it always has, but it really isn’t. I don’t have the extension I once had. The width of my arc is not what it used to be. My left arm bends a little bit now. I learned how to swing the golf club for real in 1994. I had some success before then, but in 1994, that’s when I found the key. Like Sam Snead said, we all have our keys. If one key stops working, you go to the next key. I found the key at 3:15 during practice on a Tuesday afternoon at the Heritage Classic, 1994, Hilton Head, South Carolina. That’s when I found the secret. My attack into the ball. I didn’t win that week, but I knew I had found it. I was tired of hitting the ball with toe-deep divots out to the right. I decided to swing like Corey Pavin’s practice swing. Swing to the left through impact.

AS SOON AS I DID THAT, I hit the ball perfect. Divots were square, and I had a different feeling with my right shoulder. It wasn’t as low coming into the ball. It all had to do with shoulder plane, keeping it the same on the downswing as it was on the backswing. I had always practiced my backswing. Then, out of frustration, I found something that worked.

I RAN INTO PETER DAWSON [the then R&A chief] on Saturday night at Turnberry. During the week, in press conferences, when I was asked about the age restriction at the British Open [champions are no longer exempt after 60], I hinted that it’s up to you folks in the media to get the message across to Peter. When I saw him, he told me, “Tom, you could make this whole point moot by winning tomorrow.” Then, even at age 60, I would have had a 10-year exemption. He was right, and I agree with what they do. The age limit is correct, because they have to make room for younger players.

Editors’ Note: In November 2009, the R&A changed its qualification rules to allow any Open champion to finish in the top 10 or ties to be exempt into the next five Opens, regardless of age. That allowed Watson to be exempt through the 2014 Open.

MICHAEL IS TELLING ME that after Turnberry, I should go back and play against the kids. The regular tour, not the Champions Tour. I told him to let it slide. Don’t get carried away, son. He’s going to caddie for me next year at St. Andrews. He missed Turnberry, but he’ll be there in 2010, and St. Andrews will be my last British Open, unless … you never know. We’ll need a little wind. There’s no law against me trying to do something crazy again, is there?

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The Open 2019: After making first tour of Royal Portrush, Henrik Stenson expects stern Open test

Golf Digest Middle East — Wed, 10 Jul 2019 03:12:22 +0000

David Cannon/Getty Images

By John Huggan
Four times in 14 previous attempts, Henrik Stenson has finished among the top three at the Open Championship. The best of those came three years ago at Royal Troon, where the now-43-year-old Swede memorably saw off Phil Mickelson in an epic battle for the claret Jug, one many observers view as perhaps the finest final round in the Open’s 159-year history.

So it is safe to assume that Stenson has been doing something right. Which is why he followed his habit of recent years and made an early visit to Royal Portrush over the weekend for a first look at a links he had never seen before. Twice the five-time Ryder Cup player toured the premises, initially without clubs.

“I like to walk a course I haven’t played before,” he says. “If I go out and play right away, my tendency is to get caught up in my swing and how good—or bad—my shots are. Walking, I am able to give the course and the pin positions my full attention. I like to check all the yardages, formulate a plan for each hole, then try them out the next day.”

Andrew Redington

As things turned out, the prevailing wind blowing during Stenson’s initial reconnaissance on Sunday afternoon had switched by the time he returned the next morning. Where the wind was blowing slightly from the left and helping a little on the first hole, by Monday it was the opposite—off the right and a little bit in the player’s face.

“I like that,” says Stenson. “Now, I won’t be surprised by anything next week.”

An early look at the putting surfaces also proved beneficial. The greens at Royal Portrush weren’t quite what Stenson had been expecting, although he does think they will be running at what he called “usual Open speed,” maybe 10-and-a-half on the Stimpmeter.

“The greens were more elevated than I thought they would be,” he says. “Which is not to say they necessarily sit high on their own—although some do—but often enough they look that way because the ground around them falls off on either side. If it gets windy, it will be difficult to land balls short and run them in. More often, we’ll have to flight shots in there.”

All of which only confirms the notion that—weather permitting—Royal Portrush is likely to present one of the more stringent tests in only its second appearance on the Open Championship rota, and the first since 1951. Stenson’s impression is that, though the par 5s will present legitimate birdie opportunities, the same cannot be said for too many of the par 4s and par 3s. Even the so-called “easier” holes demand respect.

“The hardest holes are the fourth, the 11th and the 16th (“Calamity”),” he says. “I went up onto the 16th tee and had 240 yards over the ravine. That’s a beast of a par 3. I can see them using a variety of tees, depending on the strength and direction of the wind.

“The rough is thick in some areas, but not too bad in others. Nothing was outrageous or super-severe, although I don’t want to be in it too often. If you get a good lie and have a short iron in your hand, I’m pretty sure you can play golf. But it is risky. There are ferns. There are bushes. So you have to be careful.”

That is true right from the start. The first hole, a 421-yard par 4 playing uphill to a green “in the sky,” has out-of-bounds on both sides of the fairway. The lines of white stakes standing guard at the course boundaries certainly got Stenson’s attention.

“I spoke with Martin Slumbers of the R&A,” he reports. “He said that they kept the OB on both sides because it has always been that way. The club didn’t own the land on either side, so it has always been played that way. It is intimidating—also on the second and fourth and 18th. You can see all those white stakes. They stare right at you.”

And to sum up?

“It will be interesting to see how different players look at each hole,” says Stenson, who is renowned for his sparing use of the longest club in the bag, preferring more often to hit 3-wood. “I’ll be hitting a lot of driving irons to keep the ball in play. That’s how I see the game normally. I’m not sure how many drivers I’ll be using. That will depend on the wind direction and how bouncy the course is. Someone more aggressive than I might use the driver a bit more often.”

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The Open 2019: Kevin Streelman found out he qualified for Royal Portrush in unexpected fashion

Golf Digest Middle East — Wed, 10 Jul 2019 03:09:39 +0000

Streelman plays a shot during a practice round prior to The Honda Classic at PGA National Resort and Spa on February 26, 2019 in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. (Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images)

By Brian Wacker
Kevin Streelman had an eventful Monday, shooting a six-under 66 to win the Rockford (Ill.) Pro-Am at Aldeen Golf Club. The way more significant news came later, though, when Streelman found out that he had made it into The Open next week at Royal Portrush.

“My mind’s everywhere right now,” Streelman told TV station WREX. “My passport is in Scottsdale at my house. I don’t have enough clothes, enough warm clothes, [so] I have to go shopping for them. My caddie is not going to go. I need to find a new caddie. Besides that, it’s pretty exciting. I have a few things to iron out.”

The best part was how Streelman was notified. Following John Daly’s withdrawal from the tournament, as Daly opted to play in the opposite-field Barbarsol Championship instead of the Open, Streelman received an email so casual he shared it on social media, likely kind of astonished in the form it was delivered:

???
Yes please

⁦@TheOpen⁩

???
Here we go pic.twitter.com/hJr0g1xQFY

— Kevin Streelman (@Streels54) July 9, 2019

Are you kidding me? That’s the kind of note you get from your buddy telling you their fourth can’t make it and asking if you want to fill in down at the local muny—except this wasn’t some Saturday game (or even the Rockford Pro-Am) but The Open Championship. At Portrush.

The answer was, of course, yes. It will be Streelman’s fifth career appearance in the Open Championship and his first since 2015. His best finish was a T-54 at Royal Liverpool in 2014.

Daly’s decision to play in the Barbasol instead of the Open is likely due to him being denied use of a cart at Royal Portrush. He’ll be allowed to use one at the Barbasol, most likely.

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