In 1859, Allan Robertson died. The first man to break 80 on the Old Course at St Andrews, he was considered the finest golfer in Scotland – and therefore, the world.
The following year, eight bearded men took part in a competition to see who could succeed Robertson in being able to call himself the ‘Champion Golfer of The Year’. Willie Park was the winner, awarded the Challenge Belt, which had been donated by the Earl of Eglinton.
After Tommy Morris won what had become known as the Open Championship three years running, 1868-70, he was allowed to keep the belt – however, this gesture had the consequence of no competition being held in 1871 due to the lack of a trophy.
Since then, the famous Claret Jug has been awarded to the winner of the Open each year and the tournament has grown into a behemoth, the oldest of the four golf majors.
Incidentally, you may feel that it should be referred to as the ‘British Open’, but: (a) when it started, it was the first and only major and the creation of the US (and many other) Opens shouldn’t be a cause for retroactive renaming and (b) it remains technically open in a way that, say, tennis’ US, Australian or French Opens are not.
Get your handicap down low enough – close to scratch, admittedly – and it’s possible to enter qualifying and, theoretically, go all the way to glory. In the past, I entertained flights of fancy that I might be able to somehow do that (despite never managing to get below a 12 handicap) and create the greatest sporting story ever told. Understandably, that idea was a bit too much for the gods.
My birthday is 18 July and so, for almost all of my life, it has fallen in or around Open week. Also born on 18 July, albeit 27 years before me, is Nick Faldo, who lit up the Old Course to win in 1990 – I was too young to be aware of his triumph at Muirfield in 1987, where he won again in 1992. When he led at Sandwich in 1993 heading into the final round, on 18 July, it simply seemed like something that happened ever year. Then Greg Norman shot 62 to win – after Cork’s All-Ireland double of 1990, I was still learning that those I supported didn’t always come out on top.
Nick Faldo, winner of three Open Championships and with whom Denis Hurley shares a birthday. \Patrick Donald/Sportsfile
Irish winners
Back then, I might have hoped that an Irishman could win, without ever properly expecting it, but there have been three: Pádraig Harrington in 2007 and 2008, Rory McIlroy in 2014 and Shane Lowry in 2019. What I certainly couldn’t have imagined was that the Open would take place on the island of Ireland – yet here we are.
With the best will in the world, the Fifa World Cup will never take place here. While Ireland has held some Rugby World Cup games, it has never been the main host. And, though Fine Gael politician Gay Mitchell did float the idea in the 1990s, the Olympics in Ireland is as optimistic a notion as the one that I could qualify for the Open. But, this weekend – for the second time – the best golfers in the world are all here, battling for one of the sport’s biggest prizes.
I attended the Open at Royal Liverpool GC in 2014 as a 30th birthday present from my father and brother and last year we went to Royal Troon in Scotland.
When golf’s governing body, the R&A, brought the Open off the island of Great Britain for the first time in 2019 and held it at Royal Portrush, there may have been some concerns but the attendances figures made it an unqualified success and now it is back again.
I wasn’t among the hundreds of thousands six years ago, though – my eldest son had just been born and I had just enough awareness not to chance it. Even so, the bits I did see of Lowry’s majestic third round were no less enjoyable.
The Offalyman’s experience of links courses stood to him and the seaside nature of the Open is one of the things that makes it unique. It is golf in its purest form, inviting imagination and problem-solving rather than simply bombing the ball down wide fairways and attacking the greens.
Flashback to 2019 - Shane Lowry celebrates with his wife Wendy Honner and daughter Iris after winning The Open Championship on Day Four of the 148th Open Championship at Royal Portrush in Portrush, Co Antrim. \Brendan Moran/Sportsfile
Good weather is of course enjoyable for players and spectators alike; at the same time I will admit to being a bit of a subscriber to the old Scottish saying, “Nae wind, nae rain, it’s nae golf.” Adverse conditions test the soul and the mind and in such circumstances, you are left with a winner who can’t be accused of not deserving it.
Due to an engagement of no little importance at Croke Park on Sunday, the denouement of the Open is something I won’t experience in person but my father and I will traverse the country to witness some of the early action.
And I cannot wait.
In 1859, Allan Robertson died. The first man to break 80 on the Old Course at St Andrews, he was considered the finest golfer in Scotland – and therefore, the world.
The following year, eight bearded men took part in a competition to see who could succeed Robertson in being able to call himself the ‘Champion Golfer of The Year’. Willie Park was the winner, awarded the Challenge Belt, which had been donated by the Earl of Eglinton.
After Tommy Morris won what had become known as the Open Championship three years running, 1868-70, he was allowed to keep the belt – however, this gesture had the consequence of no competition being held in 1871 due to the lack of a trophy.
Since then, the famous Claret Jug has been awarded to the winner of the Open each year and the tournament has grown into a behemoth, the oldest of the four golf majors.
Incidentally, you may feel that it should be referred to as the ‘British Open’, but: (a) when it started, it was the first and only major and the creation of the US (and many other) Opens shouldn’t be a cause for retroactive renaming and (b) it remains technically open in a way that, say, tennis’ US, Australian or French Opens are not.
Get your handicap down low enough – close to scratch, admittedly – and it’s possible to enter qualifying and, theoretically, go all the way to glory. In the past, I entertained flights of fancy that I might be able to somehow do that (despite never managing to get below a 12 handicap) and create the greatest sporting story ever told. Understandably, that idea was a bit too much for the gods.
My birthday is 18 July and so, for almost all of my life, it has fallen in or around Open week. Also born on 18 July, albeit 27 years before me, is Nick Faldo, who lit up the Old Course to win in 1990 – I was too young to be aware of his triumph at Muirfield in 1987, where he won again in 1992. When he led at Sandwich in 1993 heading into the final round, on 18 July, it simply seemed like something that happened ever year. Then Greg Norman shot 62 to win – after Cork’s All-Ireland double of 1990, I was still learning that those I supported didn’t always come out on top.
Nick Faldo, winner of three Open Championships and with whom Denis Hurley shares a birthday. \Patrick Donald/Sportsfile
Irish winners
Back then, I might have hoped that an Irishman could win, without ever properly expecting it, but there have been three: Pádraig Harrington in 2007 and 2008, Rory McIlroy in 2014 and Shane Lowry in 2019. What I certainly couldn’t have imagined was that the Open would take place on the island of Ireland – yet here we are.
With the best will in the world, the Fifa World Cup will never take place here. While Ireland has held some Rugby World Cup games, it has never been the main host. And, though Fine Gael politician Gay Mitchell did float the idea in the 1990s, the Olympics in Ireland is as optimistic a notion as the one that I could qualify for the Open. But, this weekend – for the second time – the best golfers in the world are all here, battling for one of the sport’s biggest prizes.
I attended the Open at Royal Liverpool GC in 2014 as a 30th birthday present from my father and brother and last year we went to Royal Troon in Scotland.
When golf’s governing body, the R&A, brought the Open off the island of Great Britain for the first time in 2019 and held it at Royal Portrush, there may have been some concerns but the attendances figures made it an unqualified success and now it is back again.
I wasn’t among the hundreds of thousands six years ago, though – my eldest son had just been born and I had just enough awareness not to chance it. Even so, the bits I did see of Lowry’s majestic third round were no less enjoyable.
The Offalyman’s experience of links courses stood to him and the seaside nature of the Open is one of the things that makes it unique. It is golf in its purest form, inviting imagination and problem-solving rather than simply bombing the ball down wide fairways and attacking the greens.
Flashback to 2019 - Shane Lowry celebrates with his wife Wendy Honner and daughter Iris after winning The Open Championship on Day Four of the 148th Open Championship at Royal Portrush in Portrush, Co Antrim. \Brendan Moran/Sportsfile
Good weather is of course enjoyable for players and spectators alike; at the same time I will admit to being a bit of a subscriber to the old Scottish saying, “Nae wind, nae rain, it’s nae golf.” Adverse conditions test the soul and the mind and in such circumstances, you are left with a winner who can’t be accused of not deserving it.
Due to an engagement of no little importance at Croke Park on Sunday, the denouement of the Open is something I won’t experience in person but my father and I will traverse the country to witness some of the early action.
And I cannot wait.
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