I like getting something
off my chest and when I do, I like it to be early doors. Don’t want anyone labouring under any
illusions as to what I want to say, so here it is: my take is that golf doesn’t
need showcasing in the Olympics.
It’s become a dirty business.
Not golf. The
Olympics. The IOC has derogated
from its responsibility in dealing with performance enhancing drug users in
many of the participating sports and has done so at the expense of good, clean
athletes and viewers alike. I have
become so cynical that I found myself watching the “horse dancing” and wondered
if the mounts themselves were “on” something. How bad is that?
I suspect it’s all about
fat-cats in fat positions on fat salaries and fat track promotion of their own
fat lifestyles at the expense of honouring naturally gifted, clean athletes. After the last samba of Rio has
stuttered to a halt, the drumbeat of “Carnaval” has been silenced, as sure as
the leanness of Lent follows hot on the heels of the traditional Fat King (King
Momo) and the Carnival of Rio, there will be a backlash of malcontent that will
turn the rollicking riot of Rio into rot.
Not merely for the participants of the Games but also the inhabitants of
the shantytown favelas: the unpicking of the event is yet to happen. Already, the promised fat purses to aid
the favelas have never materialised and the city’s coffers are reputedly empty. Fat chance of justice then – but the
jury is yet to convene.
Against this background,
golf has dropped itself back into contention after a 112-year absence and onto
a course that was designed by Gil Hanse, ably assisted by LPGA Hall of Famer
Amy Alcott. Pocket-sized
description says it’s wide off the tee, imaginative, fun and a smattering
reminiscent of Castle Stuart in Bonnieland. (That means Scotland for those not familiar with the local
lingo.) The Castle Stuart
comparison is simple: it was also designed by Hanse. There is no rough.
There is no need. Stray
balls will be punished by out-of-bounds in underbrush policed by snakes. After the last light has been switched
out on the Rio Olympics, this Reserva de Marapendi course will revert to public
use and is thus designed to accommodate the dabbling hacker or professional
golfer alike by keeping them engaged and hopeful with wide fairways, multiple
approach shots-to-green options, and short-grass recovery shots. Seventy-nine bunkers - featuring local
and indigenous sands – rumpled and dimpled fairways, brush and bush in the
absence of trees, dunes and the omnipresent afternoon Atlantic winds form the
defences of this course: 7128 yards for the men and 6245 yards for the women at
par 71. That’s the play so far.
And the natives love it,
moving in with alacrity to possess the space. As the course is situated way out west of the pulsating
heart of Rio, it is not your usual city slicker type who has taken up
residence. These residents would
be more at home sharing a screen with naturalist Sir David Frederick
Attenborough. Yup, I’m talking
wild and wonderful in the shape of capybaras, three-toed sloths, burrowing
owls, boa constrictors and caimans.
And the soccer mad country of Brazil does not really understand golf:
witness a spectator who briefly picked up Justin Rose’s ball on the final day
of play after an errant tee shot.
Happily, she dropped it again and Rose was given a free drop. When it comes to majors, golf is used
to being the biggest show on the advertising planet but now it is one of 39
sports or disciplines. The first
two days’ attendance appeared to be thin on the ground but Saturday and Sunday
attracted a capacity crowd and, for that reduced compliment of followers who
made it to the first couple of days, there was the added reward of getting up
close and personal with the participants.
Nobody was complaining.
Sixty players took to
the course to play four rounds over four days. The player with the lowest score
at the end of seventy-two holes would win. It was never a team event. Each competitor was representing his country – although
clearly American Matt Kuchar arrived in Rio under the illusion he was a member
of Team US Golf and only found out he was playing on his own at a press
conference before the tournament.
But Kuchar came up smelling of roses: he was the only medal winner of
the four-man entry from the US, walking away with bronze. Kuch, you’re a man after my own
haphazard disposition. Neat work.
Saturday saw the
separation of the leading men and then the final day went down to the final
hole. Mr Iceman met Mr Nice Man
and the gambit for gold got under way.
Mr Nice Man - Justin Rose - played wonderfully throughout. A staunch supporter of golf’s inclusion
in the Olympics, he played for his country with his soul. It mattered. It mattered from the second you saw the selfie with Andy
Murray at the opening ceremony. It
mattered when he turned up at various venues, posted more selfies, and
supported Team GB, all the while building lifetime memories. It mattered when he claimed the first
hole-in-one on the first day of the tournament. And it mattered as he stood on the eighteenth hole, putter
in hand, to tap in that decisive birdie from three feet to finish on a
composite score of 268 and 16 under for the gold. The future’s bright, the future’s Rosey.
But it was no walkover. Mr Iceman, in the form of Henrik
Stenson, was firing on all four cylinders. Hot off the high of his phenomenal win at The Open, Stenson
had the passion to represent his country and was well supported by Swedish
athletes from other disciplines turning up to cheer him on in his quest for
gold. Gold was almost his on the
final green but he missed his chance to hole out from twenty feet. He also missed the return putt for par
and his was the silver. Despite my
reservations about golf in the Olympics, I was with the action all the way. It was brilliant.
Of course, I have a stake
in Roses’s win. Sports
psychologists will always tell their sporting charges that they must think and
speak the language of positive prose.
With that in mind, I tweeted Justin. There’s not huge scope in 140 permitted characters to ramp
it up in the stakes of powerful positivity but I gave it my best shot and
Justin Rose responded. He followed
my every tweeted instruction: “Simply brilliant. Well done”, “Go for gold. Got my fingers crossed”, “My grandson is following your journey
tru 18 today and repeated after your every shot ‘Justin Rose is playing for MY
country’ - he’s five”. And Justin
acknowledged those tweets – by giving his all on the course and by responding
on Twitter. Totally rad.
It’s time to get back in
my armchair and re-visit that course.
The ladies are just teeing it up and I have another set of contenders to
watch as these players begin their hunt for gold, silver and bronze…
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