Ian Wood: High fives to the fore in match play

Published on Sunday 1 November 2009 22:40

THE format was different, but the twitchiness was the same. The World Match Play Championship, transplanted to Spain under the Volvo banner, brought its seasonal and welcome shot of head-to-head golf to the party and all the old hang-ups were present and correct.

It's always interesting to see how the professionals react in the heat of match play and rather amusing to note that much of the reaction bears more than a passing resemblance to what goes on at club level – the spring-heeled step of the golfer who's in the driving seat and the agonising, slow circling of the iffy short putt while a decision on a concession is considered.

Interesting, too, to observe the varying attitudes of players when under fire. Some give away little or nothing and others give the lot from start to finish, favouring the approach favoured by the Hollywood producer who once asked his writers to produce a film which would start with an earthquake and work its way up to a climax. The American, Anthony Kim, would seem to belong firmly and happily in the latter category, apparently quite ready to exult when the going is good and to take the setbacks like personal affronts.

To each his own, of course, and it's difficult to say which approach would be the best to adopt, given that it was within the power of the golfer to adopt anything, for it all depends on the character of the individual. It isn't always advisable for a person of volatile temperament to attempt to stifle natural instincts and stay Sphinx-like in the face of adversity.

I once played in a press tournament at Carnoustie and was partnered by a Dundee man. We'd never met before, but it quickly became obvious that he was a very tidy golfer. He made a good start and then, about four or five holes into the round, something happened. A group on an adjoining hole were combing some deep rough and as they did so, our man was steeling himself for a drive. Just as he reached the top of his backswing, a cry went up from the search party – "Jimmy, here's something. What are you playing?"

The Dundee man's frame convulsed and he hit his first bad shot of the day. As his ball whined off into unspeakable trouble, an awful change took place in his demeanour. He hadn't spoken much until then, but as he stood fixing the cheery distant group with a basilisk glare, his neck went red, his features twisted and, as his head threatened to blow up, he emitted a volley of abuse, the like of which I hadn't heard since a drill sergeant at Catterick Camp gave a virtuoso performance after finding someone with a dirty rifle. Choice stuff, it was, belted out without hesitation, repetition or deviation from the subject.

This wasn't match play, but I can't think that walking about a golf course attempting to keep that kind of temper in check can do anyone any good. Better, surely, to work out some sort of compromise, a state of mind which, though not necessarily serene, would allow for the odd expression of disapproval while enabling the golfer to keep the lid on things sufficiently to avoid throwing partners and passers-by into a state of panic and alarm. Also, if something nice happens, the golfer should feel free to indulge in a chuckle or, at the very least, a self-satisfied smirk.

Anthony Kim gives the impression he's got it about right, and I feel he's come in for some criticism which isn't altogether fair.

He does swagger a bit when he's got things going and can, at times, look cocky and pleased with himself, but then he has much to be cocky about. If I played golf like him, I'd be absolutely unbearable. As acquaintances will attest – indeed, they'll queue up to do so – I can become quite obnoxious after holing any putt measuring more than three feet. I can see that in match play it might be somewhat wearing to have to watch Kim in full cry, sinking putts and high-fiving all available people who don't have their hands in their pockets, but then opponents only have to beat him and that'll put a stop to that.

On a totally irrelevant note, my own mental serenity was dented recently by one of those experiences which makes you wonder if it's just you who is going mad or if there's a bit more to it.

I recently bought a pair of shoes and in the box found one of these little tea-bag affairs which contain silica gel, whatever that is. On the bag is printed a message telling you not to eat it or its contents and to keep it away from children. All good advice, but the effect was rather spoiled when the message added: "Through away immediately."

This quaint venture into alternative spelling seemed an additional reason for keeping the bag away from children, but then who am I to quibble? It's all in the name of progress, after all. In any event, I entered into the spirit of things and resolved to through my little bag away as soon as I was threw with it.