Before this year’s string of tournaments began, fans of professional golf were talking about the arrival of three “young guns.” And it was excited talk—as golf talk goes. It had been some time since the game had the kind of rivalry at the top that these three promised. The prospect of Rory McIlroy, Jason Day, and Jordan Spieth fighting for the lead in the big tournaments known as “the majors” recalled the great days of Nicklaus and Palmer. Or Nicklaus, Miller, and Watson. Hogan and Snead. Even, recently, Tiger and Phil, though that one never quite measured up. Tiger was just too good.
But with these three—McIlroy, Day, and Spieth—the raw material for something very special seemed to be there. Spieth couldn’t hit it as far as the other two but he hit it far enough, and on the greens, he was deadly as a cobra. Of the three, he’d had the best year, winning two of those “majors” and threatening in the others, especially the Open, which is often called, mistakenly, “the British Open.” (There is a U.S. Open, but the tournament that is played—and being played this weekend—in the British Isles is, simply, “the Open.” Golf is strict about its rules, as we all know, and this is one of them.
There was an additional element that made the prospects for golf seem especially good this year. The sport would be coming to the Olympics. And since the three young guns were of different nationalities, they would be members of teams competing against each other for the gold: McIlroy for Ireland, Day for Australia. Spieth for the U.S.A.
There would be millions watching on television and for many, it would be the first time they had ever watched golf being played. And that, of course, would be good for the game. Better, possibly, than the anticipated showdowns at the Masters, Open, U.S. Open, and PGA Championship—the majors.
Well, life has a way of disappointing us, and golf is an excellent teacher of this truth.
So far this year, two majors are in the books and they were not won by any of the three young guns. As of late Friday, it didn’t look good in the Open, either, with McIroy and Day trailing by several strokes and Spieth actually in danger of missing the cut. The leader was an old gun by the name of Mickelson whose game isn’t supposed to be suited for the kind of golf that is played on Open courses—in this case, Royal Troon—and in the kind of weather that is typical of the British Isles. Still, there he was, with the young guns looking at his taillights.
And if that were not enough to cast a pall over the hopes of golf’s boosters, there was the fact that none of the young guns would be going to the Olympics. They had all pulled out citing the danger of the Zika virus. Spieth made the appropriate apologies. He is everyone’s idea of the clean-cut kid. McIlroy, however, is Irish, and he made no apologies.
“I don’t feel like I’ve let the game down at all,” he said, when asked. “I didn’t get into golf to try and grow the game. I tried to get into golf to win championships and win major championships.”
And good for him, one thinks.
There is no more lonely sport than golf where you do not, in fact, to compete against others so much as against the course and, crucially, against…yourself.
The idea of going out there and bagging a gold for your nation seems just wrong.
And, then, the modern Olympics have become one of those vulgar television extravaganzas. The broadcast of the Olympics is all about excess, with broadcast superlative piled upon superlative until it is just indigestible and you feel sick from watching and listening. (Not as sick, though, as some competitors might be after their time in Rio and they return hone infected with Zika.)
What Phil Mickelson and the rest are doing in the wind and the rain at Royal Troon is solitary and austere and very far in spirit from the Games of Rio. Golf was doing fine before there was such a thing as the modern Olympics. (Pity the ancient Greeks didn’t play.) It has its traditions and legends. They don’t change and in the minds of people who follow the sport, that’s just fine.
Golf, they suspect, will survive, even as the Olympics might not.
