Scotland's state of the game
Scotland is the birthplace of golf, but is the game still alive and well in its homeland?
Updated: July 13, 2004, 3:17 PM ET
By John Huggan | Golf World
From a discreet distance -- good etiquette is a big thing over here -- it's easy to get more than a little sentimental about golf in Scotland. As the land where the game and its many intricate traditions began, Caledonia quite naturally represents to millions of golfers around the globe the oldest and purest of sporting values. In the minds of most visitors, Scotland is a shrine of worship, golf's equivalent of the Vatican, a place where the game's original egalitarian intent lives on.
The increasingly prevailing view from the inside is somewhat different, however. The stark truth is that, in many ways and from top to bottom, Scotland, saddled with both an aging and a falling population that recently has dipped below five million people, is a nation whose golf life is in decline.
Scotland is the birthplace of golf, but is it still alive and well?
Some undeniable truths: Scotland, where approximately one out of every 20 people plays (versus one out of every 11 Americans), is a place where the game really is a game, where it is played by most for the sheer joy of making a swing and hitting a ball into the air toward a distant target.
It's a place where golf's subtle nuances are followed by even the most casual observer. Witness the empathy and understanding emanating from the massive grandstands at the British Open when it is played north of the border -- Scots really appreciate the inherent difficulty of the game. It's a place where all are welcome and all are treated the same, where the working classes mingle easily with money old and new, where kids and seniors, males and females inextricably are drawn to the linksland by the simple pleasure of a few holes played together through the humps and hollows in the seemingly endless summer gloaming.
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Separate but equal at Troon
"We're very happy with things the way they are," says 68-year-old Belle McCorkindale Robertson, seven-time Curtis Cup member and four times Scotland's sportswoman of the year. She is talking about the Ladies GC at Troon, where she is an honorary member and whose clubhouse is just across the road from the men-only Royal Troon. "You're not writing one of those Martha Burk-type stories are you?"
Robinson is not alone in her wariness of visitors stirring up controversy. These ladies have no interest in change, they don't view themselves as being discriminated against and they see the idea of joining a men's club as something that is an issue to outsiders but not to them. "I don't know anyone here who wants to be a member of a men's club," says Gail Brown, the Ladies' Vice Captain at Troon. "I don't know anybody here who has any interest in that." It wasn't a major media event when the Troon ladies' club was founded in 1882. They just decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander and created an institution of their own. Today the club has 480 members and a waiting list that runs from three to five years. The membership ranges in age from 18 to 92, the latter a woman with a strong golfing pedigree who lives down the road and stops by weekly for bridge. Troon is not unique in this. There are at least five ladies' clubs in Scotland that that have been around for more than a century, including the Ladies' Putting Club of St. Andrews (1867), the Lundin Ladies GC (1891) the Aberdeen Ladies GC (1892) and the Carnoustie Ladies' GC (1873). There are, of course, women golfers who would welcome a mixing of the sexes. "I think that eventually it will change. To my mind, it's just 'Let's get on with it,' " says Shirley Irvine, a retired physical education teacher and mother of three who belongs to the mixed-membership Blairgowrie GC (Rosemount), outside Perth. "I feel in a way that [the clubs that exclude women] are the losers, and it would be more healthy and more democratic to have open membership." It's not hard to see why the Troon ladies like things the way they are. They have a handsome brick clubhouse with black-and-white gables, a practice green out front and an 18-hole course just behind the parking lot, while the clubhouse holds a locker room, member's lounge and secretary's office. All members can make use of the clubhouse and each is offered a ticket for the Open. The ladies' track is called The Portland Course, which lacks the seaside real estate of its more famous neighbor and runs shorter (6,289 yards to Royal Troon's 7,175). The holes wind through gorse and broom with five par 3s -- including the intriguing 16th with its slightly elevated tee and a clump of bushes that allow you to see the top of the left bunker (there are two more bunkers on the right) guarding the green but hide the bottom of the pin -- but four par 5s await on the back nine. Among the members who play at Troon these days, there is reciprocity between the clubhouses. Ladies can play at Royal Troon on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and the men often make their way over to the Portland Course on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, when their club is open to outside play. "It's a great place to come with your friends," says Brown, who was a working mom with two children when she joined 18 years ago. "You may arrive stressed out when you come to play. But after a while you stop thinking about all those things and just have a nice day out." --Kate Meyers |
None of which will come as any surprise to many of Scotland's women golfers. For them, discrimination in the form of exclusion from clubs such as the Royal & Ancient, Royal Troon, Prestwick, the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers and many others is something very old indeed.
In defense of the R&A, golf's ruling body does a good job of giving away much of its British Open revenues to good causes. And any youngster under 16 is allowed into the Open free of charge when accompanied by an adult. But, in the end, such efforts are cosmetic and at arm's length. The number of junior members (under 18) at the R&A continues to hold steady at none.
Women and children are not the only Scottish golfers to suffer. Old-world attitudes still exist when it comes to the tacky business of earning money through playing golf. During the past year two Scots on the European Tour, Stephen Gallacher and Raymond Russell, in an attempt to secure decent practice facilities during the winter months, applied to join golf clubs on either side of the country. Both were turned down -- specifically because they are pros.
"The average golf club doesn't exactly adopt an open-door policy when it comes to anyone not old, amateur and male," says Russell. "Golf clubs are arrogant, and juniors are second-class citizens. [Kids] can be smart without wearing the stuff old guys wear. A lot of the wrinklies, in fact, come along with holes in their shirts and jerseys. Why is that OK? And look at the practice facilities at most clubs. Rotten.
"But things are even worse when it comes to professionals like me. It's as though we all disappear as soon as we turn pro. I have never been asked for my input by anyone at the SGU connected with the national squads. They'd rather have six officials there having lunch. I am on the tour despite the system I came through, not because of it."
One former Scottish international player, Lindsey Anderson, returned from a successful foray with the national side a few years ago only to discover that she and her father could not play a casual round (on an empty course) before 4 p.m. at the Cawder Club near Glasgow, where she was a member. All because Anderson wasn't one of the many male members she could beat with her eyes closed.
Then there is the case of 12-year old Carly Booth, who already plays off a handicap of 3. Booth, whose older brother, Wallace, is on the golf team at Augusta (Ga.) State University, has had a stream of successes over the last couple of years playing against those bigger and older than she. Former Open champion Sandy Lyle -- who, with Booth, won the pro-am at the British Masters earlier this year -- called her "an extremely powerful golfer." Yet rather than do their bit to help the youngster on her way, the dowagers of the SLGA have, according to Booth's father, done everything they can to hinder her progress.
"We have had no end of trouble with the SLGA," says Wallace Booth Sr., a good enough wrestler to have won a silver medal at the Commonwealth Games. "A couple of years ago, Carly played in the Scottish Girls Championship. I was there with her, but the officials tried to stop me watching. When I told them I wasn't going to leave a 10-year-old on her own, they threatened to disqualify her. Things haven't improved, either. There has been a lot of jealousy and bitchiness. At the start of this year I got a call from an SLGA official warning me to keep a low profile. Then we got a letter from them saying that Carly was too young to be selected for the national team. Too young! What the heck has that got to do with anything? If you are good enough, you are old enough."
Carly may be lost to Scotland because of the treatment meted out to her family. Her English mother makes her eligible to play for Scotland's "auld enemy," and that may be where she is headed, a possibility that would come as a huge disappointment to the SLGA. "There have been misunderstandings with Mr. Booth," acknowledges chairman Pat Hutton. "But we had hoped that they were in the past. Everything we have tried to do with Carly and her father has been with care and understanding in mind for what is a very young and obviously very talented girl."
While an association's policies have upset the Booths, the autonomous nature of the golf club system in Scotland, combined with the demographics of a greying membership, is working against the encouragment of talented young golfers. Sad to say, in too many clubs, self-interest is kicking in to an alarming degree. With a typical average age creeping toward 60 in a lot of golf clubs, St. Andrews isn't the only thing in Scotland that is "auld" and "grey." Rather than give some sort of financial break to young people in first jobs that don't pay well, the retired sections of the typical club membership are more than happy to retain their own reduced subscriptions while they also continue to play most of the golf. At Murcar, for example, the full annual subscription is £535; pensioners pay £321.
"There is a problem," acknowledges Alastair Low, the 61-year-old, grey-haired chairman of the SGU. "I'd like to see reduced fees for the 20- to 30-year-olds rather than pensioners. But it's not easy to convince members that they should not be paying reduced rates when they are 60 or 65 or whatever. Especially for the older clubs, the average age is generally quite high. So the status quo suits the majority of members, making it a difficult culture to break down."
It is hard to imagine a less welcoming environment for young people than the average Scottish golf club. Many and varied are the invariably stuffy "don'ts" children have to obey in and around the clubhouse. Most of these disincentives are dress-related (compulsory jackets and ties, no jeans or sneakers) and lead to many youngsters actively avoiding trips to the club with their parents. All of which is perhaps no surprise. Given that golf's traditions -- good and bad -- began in Scotland, it is logical to assume that it is there where they will be hardest to break down.
"I do think the rules should be different for children," continues Low. "I think we are a bit old-fashioned and resistant to change. But kids can look perfectly reasonable and smart without getting dressed up in jackets and ties. There are too many dress rules."
All of which only serves to drive young people away from golf and into the arms of more obviously trendy sports. And, with the supply of youngsters slowing, national coach Ian Rae has seen a diminution of talent further along the line. "Things do need to be better at the grass roots," he claims. "While the system isn't running out of petrol, there needs to be more fuel at the start. The history of the golf club is getting in our way. We need to move them into more of a continental model." That is a more family-oriented club atmosphere in which old and young, male and female can mix, socialize and play golf without restriction. But, laments Rae, "We can't make the clubs do anything."
Another much-used excuse working against a tartan production line of the big, wide golf swings of choice on pro tours around the world these days is the much-maligned Scottish weather. "I do think our weather is a factor," says former Ryder Cup player Andrew Coltart, who now lives near London. "It is just too bad too often in the winter. Playing in all that wind and rain is just no fun, so it's easy to think, 'Why do it?'"
Not everyone shares Coltart's view, however. "I have never bought the weather argument," says Harmon, a veteran of two Caledonian winters. "Look at what the Swedes and Danes have achieved. Both countries have weather worse than Scotland's, yet both have produced more successful players over the last decade or so. A bigger problem is Scotland tends to be a very anti-golf instruction environment."
Harmon has a point. Many Scots live down to their tight-fisted stereotype, routinely seeing as a waste of money the investment of cash for even a single lesson. For the vast majority, a few indiscriminate putts plus a couple of swishes with the driver is seen as adequate preparation for the 18 holes ahead. Warming up properly and actively thinking about one's game is something those guys on television do.
Such a casual attitude to improvement isn't quite universal, but it is true that many of the highly motivated have been forced to leave Scotland. Departure has, in fact, been the method of choice behind one of the few bright spots on the Scottish golfing horizon. Of the five Scots who own LPGA tour cards, only one, Catriona Matthew, who went to the University of Stirling, did not study in the U.S.
Harmon does, however, support the prevalent concerns over the attitudes of many Scottish clubs, especially the prestigious ones. "The clubs are definitely part of the problem," he says. "I've been to Muirfield and many of the older clubs. You don't feel welcome. It's so stifling and must be even more so for young people. The clubs don't want them there. They see them as a nuisance."
Perhaps more troubling long term is the fact that -- even more than in England -- the number of clubs being built in Rae's continental model is small, another consequence of Scotland's declining population. "If we build a course now, we can't set the club up like a Royal Troon or a Prestwick," says former British Amateur champion Peter McEvoy, who was raised in Scotland and doubles as chairman of the Walker Cup selectors as well as working as a course architect. "At new clubs no one enters medals. New golfers don't want to be exposed; they are intimidated by the thought of competing in front of others in medals. Like the old clubs, competitions are unwelcoming environments -- especially if you are not that good."
One of McEvoy's ideas to combat the old ways is "Golf-in-an-hour," six-hole courses close to city centers where busy people can play during lunch. "So far," he says, "we've not been very good at providing the best environment for people with busy working lives who don't have huge amounts of time to play golf. Golf-in-an-hour is not an answer in itself, but it does keep people playing golf. As society has changed, golf clubs -- especially those in Scotland -- have not changed with it. Attention spans are shorter now. Traditional clubs don't necessarily suit those changes."
Another doing his bit for youngsters in Scotland is former British Open champion Paul Lawrie, who has his own junior foundation. "We already have one six-hole layout in Aberdeen where juniors have right of way and adults need permission to play," he says. "That's the way it should be. We need courses for kids to learn on. Golf clubs should be building such places, but they are not. There is no doubt in my mind that the clubs are run for the benefit of the older members. Until more of those little courses are built, I don't see things improving. The need is there though. I take my 9-year-old son down to play the six-holer, and we have to wait to get on. So kids want to play golf."
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