Bunkered at Lytham

As a child, one of the few things guaranteed to keep me indoors and not outdoors swinging a golf club was the BBC's monumental coverage of the Open Championship. For hours on end I would sit glued to the TV watching the drama unfold in grainy black and white and then later in oversaturated colour.

My first real memories of the Open are from the late sixties and early seventies. This was the time when Tony Jacklin became the first British winner in 18 years when he hit a cracking drive down the 18th at Lytham; colourful American Doug Sanders missed a "tiddler" at St Andrews and then lost the ensuing play-off with Jack Nicklaus; and the crafty Lee Trevino repeatedly chipped-in at Muirfield to take the Claret Jug away from a visibly shaken Jacklin. Living in a country where it didn't get dark until after 10.30pm, there was plenty of time each evening to attempt to reenact the key shots of the day, my own internal monologue taking the place of Henry Longhurst, Peter Alliss and Mark McCormack, the commentators of the day. "This chip to break Jacklin's heart" ... "He makes it look so easy" ... and so on.

Fast forward 40 years and I'm no different. I watch a lot of golf and I'm fortunate enough to see more and more of it from inside the ropes. But I still dream of reenacting the action I've been watching – "This putt for the Open!"

I've also managed to play a number of courses that have hosted some of golf's greatest events and there is no doubt that a large part of the enjoyment in doing so comes from recalling the moments have become part of championship lore. Finding myself in the Road Hole bunker at St Andrews or coming a cropper at Carnoustie's Barry Burn would be two obvious examples. However, it has become clear to me that the set-up of these types of courses is very different when a major comes to town. Yes, you can play the same layout as your heroes, but the conditions are likely to be rather more benign.