“Welcome to the future, my friend...come on in!”
You couldn’t fault the enthusiasm in her forceful, husky delivery. Almost certainly an ambitious drama student from the local area, the gaudily-clad being almost succeeded in luring me into her mysterious space-pod in the Fan Zone. I did want to taste the future, after all. It was the whole reason I had come to the London Invitational. But I wanted to do it at the first tee, where the golfers were.
And so, promising to return later – never got round to it, come to think of it – I hastened to the spot where über-rebels Dustin Johnson and Phil Mickelson were shortly to hit their first shots as breakaway golfers.
Pairing them together (the somewhat less established Scott Vincent made up the threeball) was a smart move that ensured a fifteen-deep throng around the first tee amphitheatre and a solid gallery of photographs showing, well, a solid gallery.
In the light of so many unpleasant column inches in the run-up, I noted the watchers’ reactions with interest. Johnson’s arrival got polite, typically British applause. So did Vincent: one must be sporting in these parts, after all. Mickelson, however, raised substantially more noise – in a good way. There’s no such thing as bad press, huh?
Greg Norman appeared on the tee for a smile and a wave. No drama, mate. Johnson grinned and joked with his inner circle as he leaned on a lesser wood, calmly waiting for the clock to tick down. Display planes flew overhead and red-coated ‘soldiers’ hovered with the trumpets they’d use to signal the shotgun start.
Mickelson? He had a driver in his hand for a while, but then pulled an iron from his bag. At that point, at least one voice from the crowd yelled something pertaining to a large canine. Back went the iron; out came the big stick. Phil the golfer was still Phil the golfer.
And heckling about Saudi blood money? Not that I heard…
Wasn’t this supposed to feel edgy? Like a dalliance with the forbidden fruit? Well, it really didn’t. As I scanned the crowd with a minute to go, all I got was an overwhelming sense that these people were here to see famous men hit golf balls in otherworldly fashion. That they didn’t give a flying four-iron about the mud-slinging and moralising that’s been going on in the press. Or what tour this was or wasn’t. And that was something of a wake-up call.
The trumpets sounded, and then each of the golfers began playing golf. They all found the short grass in their own different ways. And the golf fans who’d come to see them play golf trotted happily down the fairway. (Quite literally: if Mickelson had looked behind him, he might have started having flashbacks to Kiawah Island.)
What was all the fuss about?
A golf tournament, plain and simple
When the excitement of the start was over and the London International got into its stride, I couldn’t help thinking we’d been left with something mighty familiar. A pristine golf course, with 18 tee boxes (usual trappings) and 18 greens. Barring a few details and the distinct branding, the goings-on amongst the pines and heathland were nothing untoward.
That’s not supposed to be understood as a negative. It’s just that reading too much news about LIV Golf in the run-up to the event made you expect fire and brimstone at Centurion. That Lucifer himself was going to swoop down and wreak havoc on the bad-boy golfers. So it was somehow surprising – though not disappointing – that actually being there brought a sense of perspective you don’t get on the internet. The most menacing thing hovering over today’s golf was the somewhat noisy drone that followed Phil & company.
A stroll in the park?
If anything, in fact, the first day of the tournament could have used a little more intensity. I spent most of the day out on the course, and couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the players – at least the top ones – hadn’t entirely got out of practice round mode.
Even before the shotgun start, the putting green seemed oddly relaxed. With every player heading out at the same time, it was packed – and plenty of guys seemed to be enjoying the chance to crack a joke. It’s easy to imagine that there’s a sense of ‘we’re in this together’ amongst the LIV players already. That bonds are forming.
But could that also be the thing that takes the edge off the competitive instinct? Particularly in a tournament with no cut and guaranteed money? Just a thought.
I mean, I know Louis Oosthuizen has half an eye on his farm these days, but his putt on the 14th could only be explained by his mind being elsewhere. Professional golfers don’t leave their putts halfway to the hole when they’re paying attention.
And jovial though Phachara Khongwatmai may be, it did strike me as odd that he could have a smile and a laugh after hitting a gigantic slice on the fourth tee whilst leading the tournament (below). Though maybe it was just the lucky bounce off the trees that amused him so.
A decent vibe
Despite the British weather’s best efforts to dampen spirits with regular spots of rain and a bracing breeze, there were more than enough people at Centurion to create a buzz today. The music pumping from the driving range and Fan Zone helped with that too.
Granted, things were certainly lopsided out on the course due to the concentration of big names in one group. If you followed anybody else but DJ, Phil and Vincent, you were never going to have to fight for a view today. But aren’t there plenty of European Tour events where we might say more or less the same thing?
Anyway, the weekend will bring more numbers, as weekends always do.
More notes from the future…in the future!
After a 4:30am start in Vienna that involved an unexpected sprint to the airport train in the rain, I’m not afraid to admit I’ve hit a wall.
So further notes and observations on the first day of LIV Golf will have to wait just a little longer! I’ll also be publishing my spectator (audio) vox pops in the next couple of days – so stay tuned to find out what the fans thought of it all! (Subscribe above)
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