Not-So Great Moments In Sports
by Simon Hoodikoff
Carnoustie, Scotland. The name
itself inspires fear in the hearts of
golfers worldwide. It’s the site of the
British Open a few times per decade,
and should avoid being played
on by anyone who wants to retain
a shred of golfing dignity. Ripping
winds, knee-high rough, and bunkers
deep enough to trap a small
child are just a few of the things
inflating scorecards of professionals
and hacks alike.
If you’ve heard of Jean Van de
Velde, you’ve probably heard of his
run at the 1999 British Open Championship.
It’s about the only thing
modern golf analysts seem to remember
about the guy, not to mention
one of the most frustratingly
sad stories I’ve had the displeasure
of viewing live, at times through a
cage of my own fingers.
Van de Velde had a good tournament
and was coming into the
18th hole with a three-shot lead,
meaning that he could do as bad a
double-bogey and still walk away
with the Championship. That’s an
impressive lead on a course like
Carnoustie. Opponent Paul Lawrie
was right on his tail after rising up
the leader board from a 10-stroke
deficit, as was Justin Leonard. They
were both tied and three strokes behind
the Frenchman. Of course, at
the time, that number was a mountain.
Leonard and Lawrie ended
their rounds an hour before Van de
Velde, but decided to hang around
to see the end.
The 18th hole at Carnoustie has
a creek running through it, which is
actually a part of the Barry Burn—a
local river. Golfers need to clear the
creek three times because of the way
it snakes down through the fairway,
and that’s a hefty 480 yards alone.
Miss the green by five yards on the
left? Out of bounds. The bleachers
are on the other side of the green,
so basically you need to ignore the
fierce wind in your face and snipe a
golf ball within a 40ft circle. Point
is, it’s hard. The commentators
voiced their opinion to viewers
that, because of the wind, players
should stick with a 2-iron and
play it safe, but Van de Velde went
driver. Craig Parry, the man who
was paired with Van de Velde in the
final round of the Open, defended
the decision, noting that “what no
one really knew is that the wind had
turned and we went into it on our
tee shots, so we had to hit driver. I
hit driver, too. It was late at night; it
was cold and starting to rain a little
bit. You couldn’t hit 2-iron.”
Van de Velde sprays his drive
right, leaving him with a difficult
190 yards to the pin—difficult not
because of the yardage, but because
of the thick and wet grass surrounding
his ball. With one more pass of
the Barry Burn to clear, it looked
like the best option would be to lay
up and play it safe—but when did
that ever make for an exciting story?
Van de Velde went with a 2-iron
to try and clear the Burn and make
the green.
Now, for those who’ve never
touched a golf club in their life,
a 2-iron is not an easy club to hit.
In fact, it’s so difficult to hit that
the majority of golfers don’t even
bother to carry it in their bag. It has
a loft of 21 degrees, and when you
set it down, it doesn’t look like it
has a chance against a ball. Imagine
trying to hit a ball with something
that tiny 190 yards out of grass that
looks dangerous to walk around in
barefoot. Piece of cake, right?
Van de Velde clears the Burn
with his shot, but it fades right
again and lands in the bleachers.
Out of all the things that could have
happened, the ball got trapped in a
manmade object. Van de Velde was
given a free drop. Nonetheless, the
luck of the draw comes up short
again and Van de Velde’s ball gets
spit back behind the Barry Burn—
again, in the rough.
This time facing a head on shot
into the green, Van de Velde takes
a hearty swing at the ball, but the
rough gets the better of it—landing
Van de Velde only ten feet ahead
of where he stood, which also happened
to be where the Burn was.
The ball wasn’t fully submerged
in water. But then again, Van de
Velde wasn’t fully submerged in
shit, though he might as
well have been. The creek
was deeper than Van de
Velde was tall, and it would
take some kind of shot to
get the ball out of there in
a productive way. When he
started to untie his shoes,
virtually every photographer
left their post to get
a shot of it. He even lined
up to the ball to get a sense
of how the shot would have
to be played. In what was
said to be the most sensible
decision he made on that
18th hole, Van de Velde
picked up his ball and took
a drop—counting as his
fourth shot.
The designated drop area was in
a shorter cut of rough, but at that
point it didn’t really matter. Rough
is rough, and a good lie was something
that Van de Velde was not
expecting anymore. He was pitching
his fifth shot into the green,
and needed to make it into the hole
within seven strokes to win the
championship. His shot connected
well, but didn’t have the speed it
needed to clear the bunker in front
of the green.
I mentioned the deep bunkers
earlier, and this was no exception.
Extended research on the actual
sand bunker should reveal that it
was previously used as a trap for
escaped elephants—this thing was
deep, and Van de Velde was right in
the centre of it. Parry was too, actually,
and put even more pressure on
the Frenchman when he holed out
the shot from the bunker. Van de
Velde connects perfectly, and manages
to get the ball in his seven-foot
comfort zone, the one that seems
like it was from a different tournament
altogether. He holes out with
a triple-bogey, forcing a three-way
playoff for the Open championship.
Forty-nine seconds on the Internet
will tell you that Lawrie walked
away with the title that year, so it’s
likely that Van de Velde’s name just
goes into that silent second place
spot that so many others endure.
Lawrie put it best, admitting that
“Van de Velde won the tournament.
Fortunately for me... he didn’t.”