John Huggan: Flop of the range

Up there alongside the great golfing myth that the ultra-competitive Ernie Els really is a “Big Easy,” is the all-too common notion that the South African’s predecessor as Open champion spends more time bending his elbow at the bar than he does working on a straight left arm at the top of the backswing. The reality is that nothing could be less adjacent to the truth. Darren Clarke, contrary to widespread and popular belief, is actually one of the hardest workers in professional golf. Maybe only Vijay Singh spends longer on the range than the burly Ulsterman.

Which is not to say that toiling away for hours on end up on “misery hill” is necessarily good for one’s ability to make birdies rather than bogeys. The legendary ball-striker that was Ben Hogan may have felt that the secret to golf is “in the dirt,” but it is also possible to emerge from the muck with a game that is less than pristine. Sometimes, too much effort can be just as damaging – or at least as futile – as not enough.

And, wouldn’t you know it, Clarke is living proof of the universal maxim that more can occasionally mean less. Despite working away as perhaps never before on his swing, the 44-year-old Portrush resident’s time as the “champion golfer of the year” was less than fruitful. It was, in fact, 12 months of almost total frustration. Up to No.30 in the world in the immediate aftermath of that famous and emotional victory at Royal St George’s 13 months ago, Clarke missed the halfway cut at Royal Lytham last month in defence of his title – “how the hell did I ever win this thing?” was his typically self-deprecating comment – and left the Lancashire links as the 89th-best golfer on the planet. Statistically at least, it was a precipitous and embarrassing descent from triumph to disaster.

“In one way it was nice to give the Claret Jug back and in another I’d love to have kept it a bit longer,” says Clarke with a smile. “I had a wonderful year off the course as champion. I was very proud to have that title for 12 months of my life. But I’m fine being the ‘champion golfer of last year’. Many would love to be the champion golfer of any year.

“My form made no sense really. I can’t put my finger on what was going wrong other than to say it was more mental than physical. I wasn’t doing anything different but I just wasn’t playing well.

“Looking back, though, I was definitely putting too much pressure on myself. I fell into the trap of thinking that every shot had to be perfect. Which is daft, of course. I should know better at my age. But I was trying to play a game with which I’m not familiar. I’ve never been the most consistent, but I thought I had to be that way to live up to the title I had.

“The end result was that I practised more and more. Which was ironic. I’m sure many people were looking at my results and thinking I was having too much of a good time on the party circuit. OK, I did that for about a month after the Open, but from then on I worked harder than I ever have before. The problem was, the harder I tried the worse I got. Everything was clumsy. That’s the best way I can put it. I certainly wasn’t chasing around the world chasing appearance money.”

There was certainly no lack of effort going on earlier this week at Gleneagles, where Clarke was competing in the Johnnie Walker Championship. On Tuesday afternoon a crack appeared along the top of his driver and as much as two hours was then spent testing out various replacements. It was an education to watch as Clarke – connected to a device that measures club speed, ball speed, spin rate and launch angle – experimented with a bewildering array of shaft/head/loft combinations in order to identify the club best suited to him. It truly is amazing how much difference the tiniest tweak can make to a player at the elite level.

“I still want to play at the highest level,” he continues. “Winning the Open gave me a five-year exemption into all the majors, as well as at least a year on the Champions Tour when I turn 50 in 2019. My desire is as great as it ever was. My plan is to play until I am 55. After that, I’ll focus most of my time on my junior foundation at home in Northern Ireland, my work for breast cancer charities [Clarke’s first wife, Heather, died of the disease in 2006] and maybe a wee bit of fishing!”

Anyway, moving right along, Clarke has something else other than his own form to worry about both this week and for the next month or so. For the second time in succession, he will serve as a vice-captain on the European Tour squad charged with defending the Ryder Cup at Medinah. It is a role well-suited to his outgoing personality and deep knowledge of the game and, perhaps even more significantly, surely a warm-up for his own captaincy in the not too distant future.

Not that he is giving anything away on that particular subject. Clarke – a member of the tour’s Tournament committee – knows only too well the politics and protocol that surround the naming of Ryder Cup skippers. It is a role a candidate is invited to assume and very definitely not one even the most well-qualified individual should publicly lobby for (Monty take note).

Still, that is all down the road a ways. Tonight, Clarke will join his fellow  vice-captains, Thomas Bjorn and Paul McGinley, in helping current skipper Jose Maria Olazabal to find the final two pieces of the biennial 12-part puzzle.

“My role is merely to offer advice when asked,” says Clarke. “The captain is a very smart individual and, while he’ll listen to what we all have to say, the final decision will be his and his alone. That’s how it has to be.

“One thing I will say is that this year probably won’t be as tough to figure out as 2010. That was very difficult. But Monty got it right and the team won. You can’t ask for more than that.”

Having said that, Clarke is not someone who thinks a Ryder Cup captaincy is either the most important job in the game or something that can be dismissed as meaningless.

“I lie somewhere in the middle of that argument,” he says. “But what is certainly true is that, once the partnerships and orders of play are selected, the captain is just as powerless as everyone else. He can make the best decisions in the world, but it all comes down to who plays well and who holes the putts.

“Having said that, the job does require man-management skills. But if a guy arrives playing poorly, there isn’t much you can do about it. One thing Ollie won’t have to worry about is team spirit. That aspect of every European team has always been phenomenal. That will be vital in Chicago, too. The lads will be playing in front of a loud and vociferous crowd, most of them supporting the other team.

“I’m not worried though. If you look at the guys already in the side, there isn’t one Ryder rookie. That experience is so important in away matches.”

Clarke’s point is well made. Ryder Cup pressure, supposedly the most daunting in all of golf, has regularly reduced even the toughest competitors to jibbering wrecks. Not Clarke though. Back in 2006, only a few weeks after the tragic death of his wife, he teed up at the K Club – and emerged unbeaten – in Europe’s colours. No one who was there will ever forget the emotional reception he received on the first tee on the opening day.

“It was amazing,” he agrees. “But that’s the Ryder Cup. It’s all about belief. It’s not about the situation. It’s not about your team-mates. It all boils down to what you’ve got inside. Can you do it or can you not?”

Five weeks from now, that question will be asked of 24 of the world’s best players. The answer, as ever, will be fascinating to discover.