St. Andrews, Scotland – As soon as Old Tom Morris rolls over in his grave, will somebody pass him the SPF 30? He would not recognize the Old Course in all this sunshine.
Not 500 yards from where Vijay Singh smacked his drive at No. 2 during a Wednesday practice round, a woman wearing an orange bikini tossed a Frisbee to a purple-haired boy at West Sands Beach on St. Andrews Bay.
The veddy British Open does not look proper in a bikini.
The Old Course is meant to be played in two cashmere sweaters while lining up a putt through sideways rain.
Nick Price insists a golfer is supposed to pack for St. Andrews as if going to sea.
Under a blinding sun, minus nasty wind, the 134th British Open could be as lightweight entertainment as a beach book.
Not that anybody is complaining.
“The proverbial howling gale is not my cup of tea,” said Colin Montgomerie, a Scotsman who endured a tan-deprived childhood in Glasgow. “And no one looks forward to the proverbial howling gale. I think we would all choose this weather condition. I think the course has been set up superbly. It’s green and yet it’s fast-running, which is the perfect links setup.”
The last time the Open was played here five years ago, the wicked weather took a holiday.
Tiger Woods beat up the course, never landing a shot in any of the track’s infamous 112 bunkers, and embarrassed the field with a four-round score of 269.
Without the proverbial howling gale, does the Old Course have any defense against Woods bombing off the tee?
“It really doesn’t,” Woods said.
That’s not right.
If golf is meant to be torture, then St. Andrews was the proper father of this game.
Most years, summer is a rumor. The locals seem to know as many words for fog as Eskimos do for snow. The Old Course’s favorite color is gray.
There is a hint – or is that a prayer? – of rain in the forecast. The course has been lengthened in hope of giving it some fresh bite. After consecutive years in which the tourney has been won by Ben Curtis and Todd Hamilton, champs who added little luster to the Claret Jug, the British Open could use a return to its nasty, old form.
“The wind didn’t blow in 2000, and I went low. The wind blew in ’95, and we didn’t go very low. It’s kind of cool when you play that way,” Woods said.
Cannot the powerful men who sit at the head table of the Royal and Ancient, which wields more magic in these parts than Harry Potter, order a perfect weekend storm that will ruin hairstyles and blow black numbers far into the red?
An American tourist, who did not travel across the Atlantic Ocean carrying a suitcase stuffed with rain gear for nothing, asked R&A executive director Peter Dawson if given a choice, would he rather see a sunburnt gallery and a famous course pounded by golfers with big clubs, or the proverbial howling gale and rain that made St. Andrews famous. Deep in his heart, which would he prefer?
“Sunny and windy,” Dawson replied, in a droll voice that makes humor native to the United Kingdom so dry.
Are not 112 bunkers at St. Andrews enough? It gets any drier, and this Old Course will be a day at the beach.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-820-5438 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
