Open Championship diary day six: Matt Cooper reports from Royal Troon

High up on 18

On the shuttle bus to the course this morning I met James Ladd-Gibbon who manages the scoreboard high up on the left hand side grandstand on the 18th fairway.

The scoreboards at the Open have traditionally been looked after by various public schools from around the UK but Cranleigh School in Surrey has undertaken sole management of them now and James is a teacher there. While Cranleigh students maintain a consistency by remaining involved every year, the majority of the team is staffed from schools in the host region – in this case Ayrshire.

James said that the R&A treasure the heritage of the iconic structures and have high standards which his team are eager to live up to while he himself loves watching the various pupils working under pressure, improving their skill sets and meeting new people. A lot like the golfers down below, really.

He invited me to take a look from on high and it was terrific fun to climb up the banks of seating and then behind those famous yellow walls of numbers.

It made me think of my favourite moment every Open: when the final group prepares to hit their approaches to the 18th green. All is quiet, except for the cracking of the flags at the top of the grandstands, the creaking of the bleachers and the background drone of light aircraft (or, in the case of this week, the crashing boom of an aircraft carrier landing at Prestwick Airport).

The difficulty of links golf

I meant to post this little incident yesterday, one which felt like a very vivid insight into the difficulties for an American golfer new to both links golf and playing it in a ferocious wind.

I don’t really want to mock the player so I won’t reveal his identity but having sent his drive on a par-4 miles to the left, he had a good lie on trampled down grass and myself and the fans were able to listen to the debate about what to do next with his caddie.

“You’ve got 145 to the front lip of the bunker,” the caddie said. “150 to clear it, a downslope the other side, 165 to the pin. Into a wind that could be four clubs.”

A difficult proposition, in other words.

The player then started doing maths (or math) out loud. At one point he said: “Eight times eight is what?” And someone in the gallery said: “64.”

“You need to use the land,” the caddie said.

“What’s the number?” asked the player and this ding-dong went on for a while.

The player hit his ball straight but it plopped 20 yards short of the bunker.

He sighed. “A 120 yard 5-iron,” he said. “Wow.”

It felt like a perfectionist was being asked to create impressionist art. His perfectionism is normally a strength, of course, but this day it left him utterly bewildered.

A Lowry tale

After his third round Laurie Canter was asked if he had any Shane Lowry stories.

“My first year on Tour, I’m playing the Portuguese Masters,” he said. “I’ve had a terrible year. I played like 15, 16 events as a rookie, missed a load of cuts, made no money, and I was in there with Gary Hurley, another guy in a similar position.

“We were having dinner together at a pizzeria and, at end of the meal when the bill came, and the lady said, ‘Your bill has been settled by that gentleman over there’ and it was Shane.

“So there you go. I barely knew him, barely had said a word to him at that point. I think he recognised a couple of rookies and he thought, throw these lads a bone. So there you go. I have not forgotten that. It was a really nice gesture.”

Quiet Please

I’ve got to know a few of the marshals during the many years that I’ve attended the Open and asked 17-year championship veteran Smudger Smith which of the many performances he has witnessed first hand has most impressed him.

Smith’s role is to walk the course with a group, ensuring that everyone inside the ropes stays where they should and that no-one outside the ropes steps out of line. It helps that he’s ex-army.

His answer? Nothing has beaten the first time: at Royal Liverpool in 2006, following Tiger Woods. “The funny thing is,” he says, “that we don’t actually see much golf but we hear it. And the noise his shots made that week … there’s never been anything to match it.”

Fancy Sunday at the golf?

These days attending a day of sport is rarely a spur-of-the-moment activity.

Getting hold of an Open ticket in the ballot is generally supposed to be about as straightforward an exercise as breaking German naval codes during World War Two; to stand any chance of watching in person at Royal Portrush, for example, demands expert skills in crosswords and a camp bed and a desk job in a wooden hut in Bletchley Park.

It’s bizarre really. I attended the Open as punter every year from 1994 to 2006 and just rocked up to the gates every time.

But if you are in the Troon area and fancy a day out tomorrow, try your chances on the resale site. I’ve met lots of people this week who picked up tickets this way and am told some remain for the final round, all at face value.

Otherwise, enjoy the final round, thanks for reading all week, and see you in Royal Portrush maybe.