AWAY from the clamour and the applause afforded the leaders in yesterday's Open Championship, spare a thought for Chih Bing Lam. The Singapore golfer, the first player from his country to make an Open cut, was the first man to tee-off in the silence, if not stillness, of yesterday morning.
He didn't even have the company of a fellow player. Twosomes is the traditional format on the final weekend of the Open, but the odd number of qualifiers meant Lam headed out with just a marker at 7:20am. A Mr Michael Lyon, a member of the Royal Birk
dale club, was the fortunate person handed a sudden chance to play in an Open, and might well have done better than Lam himself, judging by the bona-fide competitor's scores.
He bogeyed the first, double bogeyed the second, and then bogeyed the third in a round which struggled to get any better. He finished on 31 over par for the tournament but can share the pain of operating in the shadows of a major golf event with the likes of Lee Westwood, Justin Rose and David Duval. They were all safely back in the club house yesterday before the crowds began to swell, and may have already been on the road home. Others less fortunate than them checked out of their rooms on Friday night. Barry Hume, the Renfrew golfer who squeezed in via local qualifying, missed the cut, but will be back. Or at least will try to be back.
So, too, will Doug McGuigan, the South African-born Scot who finished his second round in the twilight of Friday night, but who won't have swapped the muted clapping of the few Royal Birkdale members still watching from the balcony of the Art Deco club house for anything else.
The thrill of playing in the Open keeps these people keeping on, even when a collision of fate and form has robbed them of the chance to experience the Open the way we dream about – walking down the 18th on the final day, with the cheers ringing in our ears.
What keeps them coming back, sometimes simply for another helping of humiliation? One brave reporter sought to try and discover Colin Montgomerie's motivation on Saturday. The Scot has been a peripheral figure here, and helped the journalist finish his question when he was asked: Will you ever tire of coming to the Open and...? "And not playing well?" said Monty, completing the sentence. Yes, confirmed the reporter. That had been the gist of it. "I will never tire of it, no."
This is the Open, and that's all that needs to be said. It is why Sandy Lyle was the subject of such opprobrium when he walked away on Thursday, and why he appears to have regretted the decision. It is why there are so many willing volunteers to marshall around the course. Captains of industry and other distinguished gentlemen and ladies are prepared to stand holding cardboard signs which request Quiet Please. They do it for no better reason than it's a privilege to contribute to an event that has been running like clockwork since midway through the 19th Century.
The full article contains 541 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
