This year’s Masters tournament was as gripping as ever, while the Augusta course must be the envy of Kew Gardens. There isn’t much that can keep me glued to the TV until 2:30 am, but watching player after hopeful player disintegrate must be akin to rubber-necking a major traffic accident. Justin Rose started as soon as the second round, succumbing to the mind-numbing demands of a 5 and-a-half hour round, while on the opposite extreme, Paul Casey found himself a mere two shots off the lead after 57 holes, before allowing the wheels to come off. Even the Tiger was not unaffected, his second place to the impressive (but painfully slow) Trevor Immelman owing more to the failure of his rivals than to his own uncharacteristic performance.
Even so, I should have been in bed by 1:00 am, but for the snail’s pace allowed by PGA officials and tournament organizers, who surely must be aware that club golfers nearly always seem to copy their idols’ worst habits, while ignoring the integrity and good manners which they display on a weekly basis. The rules are there, but where are the policemen? |
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