The Old Course

Let's set aside for the moment American politics and the continuing saga of the Democratic presidential nominating process. We can all take a deep breath, slowly exhale, think of something else, and return to the fray soon.

In that spirit, here’s an on-the-ground report from St. Andrews. This past weekend, I and other golf enthusiasts watched the annual coming of spring ritual – the Masters, from Augusta, Georgia. Thanks to the ubiquitous BBC, I saw live coverage (with no commercials) from my flat here in St. Andrews.

But, in addition to watching the final round of the Masters on Sunday, I had another golf-related opportunity that day. As many of you know, the Masters is the first of the four golfing “majors” held each year. Two of the others (the U.S. Open and the PGA tournament) also are held in the States. The other, held every July, is called (back home) the British Open and (here), simply the Open Championship. The acknowledged home of golf, and frequent site for the British Open is right here in St. Andrews – the Old Course.

In fact, legend has it that golf first got started here, sometime in the 1400s, about the same time St. Andrews University was founded (1413). Golf has been played here continuously since then – two years from now the Old Course will once again host the British Open. Despite its elite status, there’s an air of egalitarianism and openness about the Old Course.

The Old Course closes down every Sunday to, among other things, allow the locals to picnic on it, fly kites, or generally just walk around the grounds. Which is exactly what I did. I started on the first tee, made my way up the fairway to the green, proceeded to the second tee, and so on right through to the finishing hole, number 18. It took about two hours but was well worth it. After seeing a few folks on the first fairway, I was alone with the course and (for many holes) the North Sea. The course was awe-inspiring in a rugged, wind-blown fashion. I got to see the numerous (and lethal) pot bunkers as well as the famous “road” hole – number 17, where, if your ball ends up on the road, too bad – you play it from there.

After walking up number 18, I headed back to watch the final round of the Masters from my flat, a ten minute walk from the course. As I did, I couldn’t help comparing the Old Course with Augusta. In terms of sheer beauty, with every magnolia, flowering cherry, rose, and dogwood immaculately groomed, the Masters course wins out.

But, for history, tradition, and access, there’s much to be said for the Old Course. Golf enthusiasts the world over come to play it (42,000 rounds are played annually). All you need is a decent handicap and a willingness to endure some potentially nasty weather. Not so with Augusta – its exclusivity precludes all but a chosen few amateurs from playing there. And, I think we’re a long way away from the members opening the course on a weekly basis for any and everyone to tromp over it. Augusta is great but I’ll take the Old Course.