Mike Aitken: Faldo's knighthood is not thought to be for his services to comedy

Published on Friday 12 June 2009 23:18

NOT only was Nick Faldo Britain's most successful golfer during the Eighties and Nineties, it's also reasonable to argue that between 1987 and 1996 he was, for the most part, the best player in the world.

Recognition of that singular career is overdue and the award of a knighthood for those achievements in the game is fitting.

If the timing of the honour, in the wake of an unsuccessful stint as Europe's Ryder Cup captain at Valhalla last year, seems a little curious, the long running debate over Faldo's unsuitability for leadership in the biennial team match against the USA should not be allowed to cloud the perception of such exceptional individual success. Between 1988 and 1993, for example, Faldo never finished outside the top 20 in any major.

Whether it was his compulsive attention to detail as a champion, or his all consuming desire to secure victory in the tournaments which matter most, Faldo made his name as a serial winner. He lifted the Claret Jug three times and was the finest British links golfer of modern times. Not even Jack Nicklaus can look back on shooting more rounds in the 60s at the Open than Faldo.

He was also the pre-eminent British golfer at Augusta during the period between 1980 and 1999 when Europeans won 11 of the 19 tournaments staged in those decades. While Seve Ballesteros, Bernhard Langer and Jose Maria Olazabal all won twice – Sandy Lyle and Ian Woosnam also slipped into green jackets – only Faldo became a three-time Masters champion.

Although he was too buttoned-up to be warmly embraced by the galleries in Scotland, Faldo's career was entwined with the home of golf. It was at Muirfield in 1987 when the Englishman first discovered his destiny in the majors.

After rebuilding his swing with the assistance of coach David Leadbetter, Britain's best golfer eventually arrived at the 72nd hole knowing a 5 iron was needed to avert the bunkers and locate the back of the green. It was a stroke played from memory, expert and exact, and it turned out to be the shot which changed his career.

Always hungry, dedicated and competitive, Faldo was a surprisingly short hitter for such a big athlete. His success was based on distance control and shrewd course management rather than power. When there was a reward for pitting your wits against a golf course, rather than beating it into submission with brute force, Faldo invariably gave a worthwhile account of himself.

Faldo's success as a golfer was always tempered by his self-absorption. While every champion needs a selfish streak in order to thrive, he took the disregard for others to extremes. All that mattered was winning. He was admired rather than inspiring affection among his peers, the press and his former wives. On the other hand, no-one did more to foster the growth of junior golf in Britain than the Englishman. Like Ben Hogan before him, Faldo was a cold-blooded golfer who could also be an ice-man off the course.

Perhaps his least endearing trait is the misconception he's hilarious. His gauche sense of humour seems to find a more receptive audience in America, where he's a popular TV commentator. Given his lack of diplomacy and gift for gaffes, it would surely be fitting if Faldo was knighted by the Duke of Edinburgh, the one member of the royal family with a similarly celebrated talent for putting his foot in his mouth.