Having played golf in Ireland, Northern Ireland and Scotland, I’m familiar with what defines “links golf.’’
Among the shared characteristics of such legendary links as Ballybunion (Ireland), Royal Portrush (Northern Ireland) and St. Andrews (Scotland), you will find: a natural terrain usually dotted with dunes; seaside views; rock-hard fairways; fescue and gorse; ubiquitous pot bunkers; very few trees; and non-returning nines – meaning you play out from the clubhouse (No. 1) and then back to the clubhouse (No. 18).
This is pretty much stock for most links golf courses. Then there is Carnoustie Golf Links, the 150-year-old site of this week’s British Open. Yes, it is a links golf course as evidenced by the name. But it also is a junk-yard dog, a quirky, dark 18 holes where strange things make it distinctly different than its brethren in the British Open rotation.
I remember my first glimpse of “Car-nasty,’’ as the players like to call it. It was a gloomy day in July of 2000 (as most days are along the North Sea), and yet the sky kept reverberating with flashes of artificial white light.
Gazing down from my tiny room at the Carnoustie Links Hotel, I finally figured it out: Every group that came to the 18 th hole that day had to stop and take turns posing in the depths of Carnoustie’s notorious Barry Burn, that creepy little creek made infamous by Jean Van de Velde in the 1999 British Open.
Most everyone I know who plays the game remembers the Frenchman’s memorable meltdown, where Van de Velde squandered a three-shot lead on the 72nd hole via a triple-bogey 7. I laughed at the thought, even though Carnoustie would make me pay for it later.
Unlike the other seaside courses I mentioned above, you can’t see the water during a round of golf at Carnoustie. That’s because of a natural embankment that always keeps you down below the horizon, and because after the first four holes, Carnoustie turns inland on a circular route pocked with huge, hungry bunkers.
That lack of scenery, so to speak, is one of the chief reasons Carnoustie is so oppressive; there is never anything of beauty to take your mind off the beast. And when the wind blows in off the Firth of Forth, Carnoustie grows Dracula-like teeth with a closing stretch that drives most golfers crazy.
Fortunately, that first day I played it, Carnoustie was pretty much a pushover, and I still shot 89. I kept wondering how Van de Velde ever blew such a golden opportunity, but maybe six-handicappers like myself who shoot 18 over par should shut up and remember what happened to the rest of the British Open cast during that weird and wacky week in 1999.
First of all, Carnoustie has played to an average score of 76.09 in the last three British Opens it has hosted. That makes Carnoustie the most rigorous test among all British Open venues – ever!
Ben Hogan won there in 1953, and Gary Player in ’68, and Tom Watson in ’75. But Carnoustie also gave us Paul Lawrie, a fluke champion in the majors if ever there was one. Lest we forget, Lawrie came from another world -- 10 strokes back! -- on that final day to tie Van de Velde and Justin Leonard, and then beat them with a lone birdie on the very last of four playoff holes. The trio had all finished at 6-over-par 290, or four shots better than Tiger Woods.
That also was the year that Phil Mickelson missed his last cut at a British Open, sent packing with rounds of 79-76 (13 over). “I’ve kind of suppressed those memories,’’ Mickelson said this week when asked about his last visit.
Mark O’Meara was the defending champion in ’99 and also missed the cut after rounds of 83-74. O’Meara called his performance “horrendous,’’ but if that’s true, then what about Sergio Garcia’s 89-83?
Like I said, when the wind comes howling at Carnoustie it’s impossible to hang on to your hat – or your head. That’s why I skied to a 105 my second time around, and that might have been with a few “Xs’’ on the scorecard. I’m not sure, because “I’ve kind of suppressed those memories.’’
I do remember that those back-breaking last four holes were completely a blur that day, and that I asked my caddie if I could reach the 245-yard 16 th with a 3-wood. He never blinked. “You couldn’t get there even with a taxi, sir,’’ he said politely. And to think, I made 105 with a par on Hogan’s Alley, the snake-like, 578-yard, par-5 sixth hole that Hogan birdied every day in his one and only appearance in the British Open.
What lies ahead this week? Oh, more carnage, for sure! The course is 7,421 yards this time around compared to 7,361 the last. And the final curtain that fell on Jean Van de Velde has been lengthened to 499 yards. And, yes, that notorious 18 th hole at Carnoustie still is a par 4.
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