The Art of Caddying

I remember distinctly last year not liking the look of this big American chap in a group from Texas and made a bee line for another bag in the group. And indeed my decision was vindicated, as it turned out he took the game far too seriously for his own good. After several bad holes around the turn he suddenly lost it after taking three to get out of ‘Hell’s Bunker’ - the prominent hazard at the par-5 14th on the Old Course, and lobbed his club for his poor, now miserable caddie, to retrieve and face his wrath.

And I had one Venezuelan doctor playing in some invitation competition who got off to a good start and was happy and talkative but started putting atrociously. His mood began to change. It came to a head on the 13th where he missed and challenged the line I gave him. He twice went back to show I had given him the wrong line but again pushed the putts. The situation was only resolved when this was manifestly pointed out to him by his, now embarrassed, playing partner. He didn’t talk to me again.

But what a job it can be too. If you get a fun group who enjoy the game for what it is and the sun shines on the links and the white breakers are coming in on the beach, it can be the best place in the world to be. Auld St Andrews town stands silhouetted in its medieval majesty as a backdrop to the last five holes on The Old and, in an ideal world, we walk down in harmony and joviality and laughter. The group have struck it off with the caddies and the talk is of wee drams of peaty Lagavulin, that birdie at the fifth and the elusiveness of the native haggis. (However a really good caddie should have a good nose and eye for that sort of thing).

And if you have spotted a haggis and had a birdie on the Old and finished it off with a heavenly dram of malt in the Jigger Inn … it doesn’t get much better.

And is it a wonder that the golfing mecca and myth and magic of St Andrews and Scotland woos us all …