Tim Yeo (Tory MP) writes at least once a month in the Weekend FT about golf. This article on Prestwick is one of his best:
http://news.ft.com/cms/s/dec30196-6322-11da-be11-0000779e2340.htmlBoth course and companion
By Tim Yeo
Published: December 3 2005 02:00 | Last updated: December 3 2005 02:00
In a rapidly changing world even the most adaptable and forward-looking golfer occasionally needs the comfort of old habits and familiar surroundings. Where better to seek reassurance that absolute values still endure than the Ayrshire coast? Here, at Prestwick, a golf club was formed in 1851 and the first British Open Championship held nine years later. Prestwick then hosted the next 11 Opens and 24 of the first 60.
Any golfer making a pilgrimage to Scotland should go to Prestwick. Arriving there recently for a match, the scene was exactly as it was on my first visit two decades ago and as it has been on many subsequent visits. Walking round from the car park and looking into the clubhouse a group of members is always to be seen relaxing on the wooden chairs inside the smoking room window. One of them notices you and gives a friendly nod.
There is just long enough to pass the time of day with the caddy master in the entrance hall before you make your way round the corner into the smoking room, where a foaming pint of Belhaven, perfectly served in a silver tankard, is thrust into your hand within a maximum of 60 seconds of your entrance. This is followed by solicitous but not intrusive inquiries about your welfare and, most importantly, the state of your golf.
The dates of the books on the table in the middle reveal the club's priorities. Here, beside the 2005 Golfer's Handbook, is Who's Who, the reference book that details the lives of politicians and other uninteresting public figures. Look closely and you see it's the 1988 edition. Better thumbed than either is an inscribed copy of Percy Walker's memoirs, the reflections of a much-loved local doctor, a member for seven decades and the oldest surviving past captain. In this room the unquiet spirit is truly refreshed and the unknown stranger warmly welcomed.
But Prestwick knows it isn't only golfers' spirits that require refreshment. Soon the visitor is ushered through a discreet door that leads directly into the dining room. Here another treat awaits because this has a good claim to the title of the world's nicest golf club dining room. For a start, no question arises about where to sit because there's only one long table and you take your place next to whoever is already there, an arrangement guaranteed to sustain a friendly atmosphere.
A charming waitress appears noiselessly beside you and whispers into your ear the choices of the day. Visitors unused to a west of Scotland accent may need these to be repeated but it doesn't matter which you choose because all are excellent. If you haven't been here for a while, it's a relief to find the jars on the table still offer the same extraordinary range of sauces, chutneys and mustards and a finger bowl comes with the seafood starter. The efficient steward is still called Bennett, too. The only difference is he's the son of his predecessor.
Yet, however long you linger in these agreeable surroundings, with pictures of a hundred past captains on the walls to study, the moment when you must hit the daunting first drive can't be put off indefinitely. The tee is right in front of the clubhouse and critical caddies line up to assess your game and maybe place a wager. As you take a practise swing the left-to-right wind freshens, ready to waft your ball over the wall on the right of the narrow fairway, on to the Glasgow-Ayr railway line and out of bounds.
On the first afternoon we were late out from lunch, mistakenly thinking an extra Kümmel would make this tee shot less scary. The shadows cast by the wintry sun were long and the wind was strong. The burn on the right of the third hole, the famous Cardinal, had turned into an in hospitable racing torrent and in gale force conditions we struggled round a dozen holes before throwing in the towel.
The next day the weather relented and, mirabile dictu, I scored a point both morning and afternoon, due of course to the excellence of my partners. A colourful oyster catcher, patrolling the edge of the 18th green, was unable to conceal its look of astonishment at our success. Although Prestwick is now too short to host another Open it's a perfect matchplay course because at almost every hole total disaster befalls any shot that is even slightly off line, and nowhere more so than on the beguiling final four holes.
I doubt if any modern designer would build a course like Prestwick, yet many of the long "championship" courses beloved of resort developers are easier. Nobody's golf experience is complete until they've played here and as long as you can handle criticism it's worth engaging one of the occasionally incomprehensible but delightful caddies. No disappointed lover was ever more frank than they about inadequate performances.
tim.yeo@ft.com