I am a golf fan, and Rory McIlroy’s win at Augusta National on Sunday meant a lot to me.
Much has been written about the completion of his career grand slam – only the sixth player in history to win each of golf’s four major tournaments – so I will say my bit quickly.
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You may have heard about his 2011 Masters collapse, where as a fresh-faced 22 year-old McIlroy squandered a final-day 4 shot lead in disastrously spectacular fashion. This was the first Masters tournament I remember watching, and every April since I have rooted for one player above all to win at golf’s most enchanting course. Yeah, you guessed it.
Regardless of form, or the strength of his opponents, not once did I – or indeed any fan or pundit – skip Rory when considering who was in with a realistic chance of winning the Masters. That speaks to his genuine talent and consistency across the last 14 years which, despite tour wins and Ryder Cup triumphs, have been a painful waiting game. When will he just win the bloody thing?
That wait ended on Sunday. If you caught his winning putt, you’ll know he fell to his knees in an outpouring of probably every emotion he had experienced since that sad Sunday in 2011. I felt that celebration, as did everyone connected to golf. It was an extremely rare sporting occasion where literally nobody (perhaps excluding the bitter Bryson DeChambeau) was against this. It was a win for the sport as much as it was for Rory himself, a hero exhaustingly fighting a losing battle for unity within the ‘golfing community’ at an ominous time of Saudi infiltration.
And so it showed. That’s if my Instagram feed was anything to go by. Your favourite footballer, BBC newsreader, Hollywood actor, man-of-the-people technocrat were all posting about this historic achievement. For once, golf news reached the mainstream. Even my own 25 year-old friends knew about this!
The least surprising thing ever would be an upsurge of bookings on UK golf courses over this coming Easter week. But for the thousands of young lads and lasses taking to the links, they should be warned that despite the magic you see on TV, the reality of your local golf club is no doubt a grim one.
Outdated values. Stubborn, reactionary leadership. Excessive green fees for non-members. There is definitely truth to the common perception of golf as a boring pastime for the rich, inaccessible for young people, all the worse if you are a woman or person of colour.
Recently I took two friends to a local club, which in addition to its 18 hole course offers a 9-hole par 3 ‘Academy Course’ suitable for beginners and regular players alike. A small level up from a pitch and putt, effectively. Being the only owner of golf clubs, I brought along two short irons, a wedge and the flat stick, plus a plastic bag of balls. This was, at least from my impression of the course, sufficient.
“Well, my friend, it appears you were under the wrong impression!” is what an elderly fellow quipped at me, index finger tapping on his ‘No club sharing’ sign, when I realised each player needed his own bag.
10 minutes and £20 later, we were back with our puny set of beginner clubs in ‘My First Ever Golf Bag’ bags. Chuffed with his protection of the sport’s integrity, the old fart ushered us to the first tee, proud that we looked “ready to play some golf now!” This was probably also a passive aggressive nod to our less-than-traditional golfing attire.
Our nine holes were enjoyable, and I could see playing potential in my two novice friends. They themselves agreed it was one of my better ideas, and that they’d consider doing it again. But the big blot on an otherwise fun, rewarding and mindful activity was a sour combination of the aforementioned jobsworth and our unreasonable financial stake in a sport which, let’s face it, is nowhere near as good as football or cricket.
How can we expect to democratise golf with such snobbish elitism?! That was my main thought driving home along the M56. We were three sporty lads at prime physical age, ready and waiting to treat ourselves to a reckless exhibition of short game. And yet we had to fork out a few hours’ wages for the right to do so. Even if we wanted to regularly wake up early on Saturday to do this, the inexpensive alternatives (Parkrun, tennis, a kickabout in the park) divert us.
Maybe my angry question above is the wrong one to ask. After all, I can see why ‘they’, the Man, like to guard it to themselves. Golf is a game of money. And of course, time is money. So it’s obvious that the overlords of the sport sponsored by Rolex and Citigroup will put measures in place to keep the riff-raff away. Besides, if you let them in they will clog up courses, playing slowly and destructively with balls and divots flying around. Even worse, their rejection of chinos, polo shirts and casual bigotry will really kill the renowned vibes of the clubhouse. Only once they are willing to pay the fees and respect our rules will they truly be welcome.
I of course am fortunate that my dad, like his own, took me to a municipal course with hand-me-down clubs when I was a child. Were it not for that, I’d almost certainly be like my two mates who follow golf from a distance and might ‘give it a go’ from time to time.
Luckily there are others like me who are a) good at golf and b) not an arsehole. But there aren’t many of us playing frequently, let alone chairing AGMs. So the current power structures will remain in place, regardless of what Rory McIlroy – an image of what the sport should be – achieves at the highest level. Sure, he is inspiring to many, but his sport is still only for the few.
Chris Perrin 