SOUTHPORT, England — The path here is the same for everyone, pretty much. There are variations on a theme and that’s about it. Your correspondent traveled along this worn, tried-and-true path: overnight flight, Philadelphia to Edinburgh, Scotland. Three hours, or not quite, on a train south past a thousand cows and many more sheep, to Preston, England. A taxi from there to a house here in sight and sound, especially sound, of the course. (“Hello, I’m Tom Watson, five-time winner of the Open Championship,” on some sort of PA system, on some sort of audio reel.) A short walk to the main entrance gate, which is an exit gate at the end of the day. (Safe journey home. What’s it like, using language with such good care, all day and every day?) And from there to the course and to its 13th hole. You remember the 13th from Royal Birkdale, from the last time the Open Championship touched down here, don’t you?
If you don’t, or if you weren’t hanging around golf then, let me refresh your memory. It was on the Sunday of the 2017 Open, on the 13th hole, that a million of us fell hopelessly and eternally into the thrall of young Jordan Spieth. He’s 32 now, so he was only 23 then, and already very much famous (in that narrow famous-in-golf way) as the winner of the 2015 Masters and the 2015 U.S. Open. He was trying to win his third major, the third leg of the career Grand Slam, when he missed where you could miss on the par-4 13th hole, back then, which was wildly, wildly right, right of the equipment trailers and on the Royal Birkdale driving range. (Or practice ground, to use the parlance of the people who brought you Order of Merit.) Twenty-odd (very odd!) minutes later, Spieth made a 5 there where 6 or 7 or X seemed more likely. He took a drop. He took relief from the drop. He made a 10-foot putt. He went for a run. He lived half a life in those 20 minutes.
As the madness was unfolding, Spieth’s broad face, the face of a Little League pitcher who can no longer find the strike zone, was a study in both disarray and composure. His dialogue — with his caddie, with rules officials, with himself — the same. Close to two hours later, the tournament was over and Spieth was its winner. In victory, Spieth talked about his life, and his unlikely Sunday, in such a straightforward and unpretentious way it was hard for him to not win you over for good.
This exchange (lightly edited here) has stayed with me.
Reporter: Are there other things in life more important to you than golf?
Spieth: “Absolutely. My faith, my family. But after that, this is what I love to do.”
Reporter: Does that make it any easier, having that ranking system?
Spieth: “Yes, but not when you’re out there. You’re not thinking about the stuff that’s most important to you. [You’re thinking about] the situation at hand.”
Spieth’s shot — the wide right miss — is no longer a play on 13. The Birkdale driving range has been taken over by hospitality tents. Member parking, which had been a short walk to the mod (Art Deco) clubhouse here, is now a mile or more from the course. The tournament practice ground is on acreage borrowed from the superb course next door, Hillside Golf Club. The amount of good golf around here is astonishing. Locals will tell you that Formby Ladies Golf Club is among the best, if not the best, along this stretch of great linksland in northwestern England. On Monday night, the last group down the road, at the quirky and baked nine-hole Southport Old Links Golf Club course, had the time of their lives. Yes, I was in the group. Our wee group — DBA the pros from Dover — holed out close to 10 p.m. and still found a proper restaurant serving dinner.
I first came here for the 1991 Open, won by Ian Baker-Finch, with a beloved caddie, Pete Bender, on his bag. I recall interviewing Tom Watson in the locker room, one on one, Watson straddling a worn wood bench. It didn’t take an act of congress (or parliament) to get a one-on-one interview with the game’s greatest legends. Things change. I once had a boss — an Englishman, it so happens — who used to say, “Managing people is about managing change.” There’s a lot in that.
I admire greatly that the R&A, presenters of golf’s oldest championship, are so receptive to change, keeping an eye on the tried-and-true all the while. So 13 is different, this time around. It’s been tweaked. But the course is essentially the same. This year, for the first time, there was a Last Chance Qualifier on the Open course, 12 guys for one last spot, and it was hugely fun. For about a decade now, the R&A has made camping (and glamping) an affordable way for people to enjoy the Open. The event is always bigger and better and, all the while, unchanged. Right down to Safe journey home.
“Maybe the best shot and the best putt I’ve ever hit don’t exist anymore,” Spieth said the other day, revisiting his play on 13 from nine years ago. Of course, it’s not really true. You can’t miss it where he missed it, but there are other acceptable misses, because there are always acceptable misses. That 10-footer for bogey happened only once because it existed only once, but golf always offers another 10-footer, until your final 10-footer. And even that one doesn’t matter, because there’s another golfer coming to take your place.
Until then, we have this. Sunshine, wind, warm weather, a long line in, a safe journey home, another Open Championship in a long line of them.
Michael Bamberger welcomes your comments at Michael.Bamberger@Golf.com
