I am by no means a brilliant golfer personally, but I played the game for quite a while in my teens and made it to play to single figures – moderate progression, if not exactly setting the heather alight.
A few people close to me have started the game recently, and I have offered only one piece of advice: “It doesn’t matter how far you hit the ball, if it doesn’t go straight”, as well as the logical progression from that, “Forget the driver, it’s the least important club you’ll own and there’s a case for not owning one at all”.
As a result, I was delighted by Phil Mickelson’s Open win, not only because it helped an obvious gentleman of the game overcome last month’s heartbreak at the US Open, but also because he did it without a Driver in his bag.
Meanwhile Lee Westwood, someone I once predicted would never win a major because he cannot putt, drifted to finish well back.
It’s an old maxim, but an utterly true one: “You drive for show, you putt for dough”.