A summer ago, many years in the making, I finally stood on the sacred sod of St. Andrews’ opening teeing ground for the first time. As usual, there were a few scattered onlookers on hand to watch the jittery tee shot I had long dreamed of performing. Tourists and townspeople around the Auld Grey Toon seemed grateful for the rare and balmy 70-degree day. Even Sheena Willoughby, the gracious “hostess to the world” from the nearby Dunvegan Hotel, who knew a few of us in our group, made the short walk from her pub to take a photo.
Like multitudes before me, St. Andrews had always been a bucket-list aspiration. It’s known as the Home of Golf, but I view it more as golf’s final resting place—a true heaven on Earth. To know that for centuries, every legend of the game (alas, not Ben Hogan) had planted his feet on this same patch and challenged the landscape ahead is heavy stuff for an old sap like me.
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The fourth green at the Old Course.
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Previous Next Pause Play Save for later Public St. Andrews Links: Old St Andrews, Scotland
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The Old Course at St. Andrews is ground zero for all golf architecture. Every course designed since has either been in response to one or more of its features, or in reaction against it. Architects either favor the Old Course’s blind shots or detest them, either embrace St. Andrews’ enormous greens or consider them a waste of turf.
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Mercifully, I solidly launched my opening drive down the middle, allowing me to relax and settle into an exquisite day with friends. In our foursome was Tom Spencer, my dear friend and editorial consultant at CBS Sports with whom I’ve worked on golf and football for more than 30 years. Tom’s knowledge of sports is second to none and enormously impactful in every show we work. His golf skills are good enough to have won a club championship at San Francisco Golf Club. We were graced by arguably the greatest golf historian of our time, David Normoyle. David preserves artifacts for clubs all over the world and is truly one of the most interesting conversationalists in the game. He also happens to be married to my legendary teammate, Dottie Pepper, who spent the afternoon walking all 18 holes while resisting the urge to strike a single shot. Lastly, there was my close buddy from Los Angeles, Dave Reneker. A past club champion and bon vivant at Bel-Air Country Club in Los Angeles, Dave had said for years that if he ever learned I had played St. Andrews for the first time without him, not to ever call him again. “Give me 24 hours notice, and I will get there from anywhere in the world,” he said.
Thankfully, Dave had plenty of notice to plan the day for all of us. He had spent considerable time in St. Andrews, even living there for long stretches, all the while nurturing friendships with many of the caddies, including the one he procured for me, Alan Carlyle. You often hear people regaling others with tales of how their caddies in Scotland are such a vital part of the experience. It’s true. Alan has looped thousands of rounds over the last five decades, so naturally I inquired about some his memorable experiences. “A few years back I caddied for a fine young player who went on to become a television presenter, like you,” Alan said. “His name was Brandel Chamblee, and when I worked for him at the 1995 Open Championship I learned a valuable lesson in communications. At the par-4 sixth hole in the opening round, he hit the blind tee shot way right. He looked at me and asked, ‘How’s that?’ I was certain he had found the gorse and a wee bit too quickly, I responded, ‘It’s dead.’ After he hit a provisional, Brandel said with fire in his eyes, ‘Don’t ever tell me it’s dead again! Give me some hope!’ You know, I never forgot that. Ever since, I gently break the bad news to my golfer with phrases like, ‘We’ll see about that one,’ or ‘Hopefully, we got a good bounce.’”
“Mr. Nantz, we’ve been waiting some time for you.” He rummaged through his desk and found an envelope with my name on it.
Under Alan’s stewardship, few of my shots ended up on life support, and I managed to shoot 38 going out with a wind-stiffened 46 coming home. It added up to 84 strokes with two birdies and a par on the famed 17th—The Road Hole. It was more than enough to make me happy at this stage of my life.
Once the round ended, we walked into the Royal & Ancient Clubhouse for a pint. When we presented our names to the gentleman who received us, he replied, “Mr. Nantz, we’ve been waiting some time for you.” He rummaged through his desk and found an envelope with my name on it. “It’s about time, sir,” he said. It was my R&A membership card, dated 2004.
Full disclosure, I had been to St. Andrews many times, having attended four Opens on busman’s holiday and even making a few cameos on several BBC broadcasts. I had been back proudly for functions at the club and had played at surrounding courses such as North Berwick and Renaissance, but I had never played the Old Course. Who knew that there was an envelope waiting to be picked up after 20 years?
The day’s final act was the most meaningful part of all. Led by Alan, the caddies asked our group to join them at The St. Andrews Golf Club off the 18th. There, over another pint, we were riveted by their stories from nearly 100 years of combined service shepherding golfers around their magical office. As we left, the caddies marked the occasion by presenting a St. Andrews flag signed by the four of them. I consider it one of my greatest golf mementos in an ever-growing collection and a treasured reminder of my maiden voyage around heaven’s course.
This article was originally published on golfdigest.com
