St Andrews

This is not really a post.

I just felt an overwhelming need to tell the world that I love watching golf played at St Andrews.

About John Harms

JTH is a writer, publisher, speaker, historian. He is publisher and contributing editor of The Footy Almanac and footyalmanac.com.au He has written many columns and features for numerous publications. His books include Confessions of a Thirteenth Man, Memoirs of a Mug Punter, Loose Men Everywhere, Play On, The Pearl: Steve Renouf's Story and Life As I Know It (with Michelle Payne). He appears on ABCTV's Offsiders. He can be contacted j.t.h@footyalmanac.com.au He is married to The Handicapper and has three kids - Theo10, Anna8, Evie6. He might not be the worst putter in the world but he's in the worst three. His ambition is to lunch for Australia.

Comments

  1. Mulcaster says:

    I really like walking my dog. I think caring for a dog improves one’s humanity . Co- incidentially I think golf played at St Andrews is in some ways like prayers sung at St Peters.
    The world would not be the place it is without either. Golf at played at St Andrews improves the human condition. Imagine a world without it and you imagine a poorer place.

  2. Ben Footner says:

    How about that putt by Phelps? Longest televised put in British Tour history apparently – and it was a swimmer doing the putting!

  3. John Harms says:

    THat putt looked like it was going to stop about five times and just kept rolling.

  4. Andrew Starkie says:

    Harmsy, went to the Open at St Andrews in ’95. Rocca chipped in from the front fringe on the 72nd hole to force a play off against Daley. Watched Daley go off the second on the Friday. His clubhead thumped the ground behind him in his follow through. Saw Tiger. Nicklaus (Arnie?) may have played his final Open. Spent the week sleeping in tumble down cottages without showers. Two years later slept in the car at Augusta and got in on the Thursday and Friday. Tiger’s first win. Wouldn’t dream of it now.

  5. My Dad went to university in St Andrews during WWII before heading to the air force. He wasn’t any good at golf but he use to tell me stories about how the golf course was the cornerstone of the town. I went there in winter 1991, clubless, I walked around the course in the afternoon gloom with some mates. I have a photo of me standing in a bunker with a rake above my head – the top of the rake is below the lip of the bunker. Magic stuff. I plan to play there before I die.

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