A Taste for the Open
The first time I ordered a Scotch at a bar, I called the bartender over after I took my first sip.
“I hate to be a complainer”, I said, “but I think this went bad.” I was sure that nothing could taste like that on purpose.
“You have to develop a taste for Scotch”, the barkeep imparted. Thinking I’d rather develop dandruff and a rash, I swore off the stuff, and never gave Scotch another thought.
Years earlier, my first encounter with the British Open was somewhat similar.
Way back then, coverage of the British Open was only a few holes on the final day of the tournament, which was a Saturday, at the time. It was not a stand-alone broadcast, but merely part of ABC’s Wide World of Sports using the feed from the BBC. The telecast was in black and white.
I remember thinking how ugly the courses were. There were few, if any, trees, undefined fairways, and all of the spectators, who were usually bundled up and carrying umbrellas, looked like foreigners. Some 47 years later, it now all makes sense. The score boards were huuuuuge……….. and the crowd roar sounded different. This tournament just didn’t seem right. For heaven’s sake, a left-hander (Bob Charles) even won it once!
Things changed when Americans, thanks to Arnold Palmer, began going to The Open in bigger numbers. While my interest grew somewhat, our new color television didn’t help. I fiddled with the color knobs for hours trying to get some sort of a hue on the set. I finally assumed Scotland must be bereft of color. That is except for the bright yellow scoreboards, which still seem oddly out of place.
For some reason, I was always drawn to watch the event, and over the years it has become my favorite.
I learned to appreciate it truly was an open. Unlike PGA events of the time that were almost exclusively made up of American players, The Open had players from all over the world ready to compete for the title of “Champion Golfer of the Year.” It is the championship from where golf began, where weather and natural terrain are important components of the test, and where a bad bounce doesn’t create a forum for a “woe is me” complaint.
I also learned that golf fans abroad were really savvy. They knew their stuff. And as you read a little about the history of the game you began to realize that maybe we Yanks have bastardized the game somewhat in our park-like course designs, and, more importantly as Sandy Tatum puts it, introduced our intrusion of water into the game. Why must a golf course be emerald green from tee to green?
Now, some years later and a lot of stuff in between, I wouldn't think of missing the 5:00 a.m. alarm for the telecast. What other major can you watch in bed for a few hours before heading to work?
It’s safe to say, like my first Scotch, I didn’t warm to The Open at first. I’m glad I gave it time and developed a taste for it. And to that, I’ll gladly raise a Jack Daniels.
