Severiano Ballesteros, one of the golfing greats – and the favourite of many golfers, from seasoned professionals to high-handicap amateurs – died yesterday at the age of 54. Doug Small offers his tribute.My mate Phil and I divide on many subjects. On 1970s golfers, Phil was for Tom Weiskopf and I was for Johnny Miller. Miller’s time came in 1976, and I followed events from the burned-out turf at Birkdale in the usual way: glued to the TV for four days. The man from San Francisco triumphed comfortably that year, but not without a scare or two from a young upstart teenager who earned the nickname “the car park champion”. I was outraged at the time that Miller – who at points made all other golfers seem like hackers – might have to defer to this wild thrasher of the ball. Two years later, at St Andrews, the only Open I ever followed on foot for six days was won by Jack Nicklaus; but by now I had only eyes for Seve. I see from the record that he led for two rounds and I vividly remember standing on the 17th tee when it went from his grasp. Lashing one of his specials over the hotel grounds, he did in fact land it in the car park. But what a guy to watch. These days I love watching Luke Donald and Adam Scott – but, for all the wonders of their techniques, they ain’t Seve. Despite the car park antics and swinging himself off his feet to drive the 10th at the Belfry (a shot I don’t think anyone had conceived of until he did it), Seve had a gloriously smooth old-school action. People used to rave about Hale Irwin’s rapier-like take on the game, but YouTubing Seve during the last few hours, it is apparent that for all his famed lunging and lashing, most of the time he was just cracking balanced, oiled blows down the middle of the fairway. But why let facts destroy the myth? Some said he was competitive to the point of gamesmanship, but that would be hard to reconcile with the love that has been poured out since he became ill in 2008. Last July, rising as usual to prostrate myself before the TV for ten hours of coverage from St Andrews, I found Alliss and co in the middle of a tribute to Seve. It was all in the past tense. “He’s died,” I thought. It went on and on. All past tense. Suddenly Ken Brown was interviewing the maestro at his home in Spain and it was clear that the BBC realised this might be their last chance. I am not ashamed to say I wept like a baby at the sight of the great man still with us. To how many other sportsmen this would apply, I have no idea. There are other things that could be said. It is claimed that Seve single-handedly invented the Ryder Cup as we now know it, with his – shall we say hatred? – of the Americans. No, let’s just call it his combative approach. When a great player declines on the course, but continues to be invited to top events, one tends to pass by on the other side. Exceptions apply. I watched Tony Jacklin hit a couple at Carnoustie in 2007 and Weiskopf likewise at Troon in 2004. If Seve could have dragged himself back to another Open, he would have had a gallery the size of Tiger’s – and I would have been in it.
Want to discuss other issues? Join the debate on our new Scottish Voices forum
Related posts: