PLAYERS: Island Mentality

JUDGING a course by its scorecard is a dangerous business.

A flick through that of the Stadium Course, for example, and you might think the 17th, a par three measuring just 137 yards off the very back tees, might present a late birdie chance. A total of 94 balls ending up wet in last year’s Players Championship suggests otherwise.

Two of those belonged to Sean O’Hair. Trailing leader Phil Mickelson by two shots he took on the final-day pin that is cut over the lone bunker to the right.

His arrow-straight nine iron didn’t even see the putting surface. Moments later his pitch, from around 70 yards, also found the drink and a quadruple-bogey, and bogey at the last, left him down in a share of 11th.

The previous day he thought he had air-mailed the green but finished up stiff and made a birdie. There is good reason that this is one of the most photographed and talked-about holes in golf.

The world’s two best players were asked for their opinion of it last May. And gave different answers.

Woods summed up what most of the field probably think when he said: “I’ve always thought that hole is too gimmicky for the 17th hole of a championship. I think that would be a fantastic eighth hole, but not as the 71st hole of a tournament, or 17th hole of your round.”

Mickelson viewed the island hole slightly differently.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that. I think it adds to the most exciting finish in golf combined with 16 and 18. I think that 16 provides a great chance for birdies and eagles; 17 provides a great chance for a birdie, but also a double bogey or worse; 18 is one of the toughest pars that we’ll ever see. I wouldn’t recommend any changes.”

Those comments came after Mickelson took six shots, in practice, to find the putting surface with an eight iron.

“The same club was coming up short. The same club was going long. Finally, the wind stayed about right and I got one on the surface. So with a couple-shot penalty along the way, what is that, 12? Nice.

“You try to suppress that hole until the last minute. You try to suppress it until you walk off the 16th green. You don’t want to think about it early in the round. You know you want to make a lot of birdies before you get there.”

All the practice paid off as Mickelson secured his first Sawgrass crown at the 14th attempt.

Whatever anyone’s opinion, the hole certainly provides drama during the week of the Players.

For the amateur golfer it provides sheer terror and enjoyment in equal measure. Having been lucky enough to play at Sawgrass, this is the one shot I would love to have another crack at.

My typical preparation for a round normally includes tearing into the club car park three minutes shy of the tee-time, doing up my laces halfway down the first fairway and then spending the next four hours requesting ‘a long one’ on every other tee.

But I wanted Sawgrass to be different. I even enlisted the help of leading sports psychologist and NCG columnist Dr Karl Morris for a one-to-one to bolster my confidence-shredded brain ahead of my trip to Florida.

“It’s a little bit like going on an aeroplane for the first time and all you’ve done for the past six months is watch movies like Airplane. It is almost like your mind and everyone’s mind is conditioned, before you even start, for disaster.”

Thankfully, the conversation took on a happier and more upbeat tone and I put the phone down somewhat buoyed by Morris’s wise words.

The best part of the next fortnight was spent punching eight and nine irons to an imaginary target and the day before travelling I splashed out £8 on a new polo shirt.

If I was to make a fool of myself I would do it in style.

At 9am on Monday March 26 the starter announced that the Stadium Course is ‘a very good course for a very good player’. Nobody dared make eye contact with him.

Sure enough all three of us played nowhere near our respective handicaps over the front nine but, slowly but surely, regulation figures began to appear on the scorecard and by the time we reached the 16th tee I had wrestled the honour with an up-and-down par.

Most players feel a knot in their stomach as they step on to the penultimate tee. I began to fall apart halfway down the previous hole. With the par-five just in range the huge expanse of water, guarding both holes, was enough to produce a topped prod down the left side and any hopes of bouncing on to the 17th tee with a confidence-boosting birdie

were dashed. Having played the hole a thousand times in my head my pre-shot routine was simple. Gauge the wind, use the water to frame the target, take two smooth practice swings and trust yourself - you won the Junior Knockout at Wimbledon Park in 1986 so you know you can play a bit.

The actual pre-shot routine bore no resemblance. I hadn’t envisaged or particularly wanted the honour but I would be first up.

Not for any sound reasons like getting an idea of club selection or calculating what the wind was up to but merely, hopefully, to see someone else make a mess of things and ease a tiny bit of the immense bit of pressure I was unduly putting myself under.

In my favour the wind was off the right and the pin, just 128 yards away, was cut on the back left.

I hadn’t managed to pull off a fade since that memorable afternoon in the mid 80s and now wasn’t the time to start trying. Going against me I had the wrong club.

Falsely pumped I elected for the wedge as the thought of trying to play anything another than a full shot terrified me further.

After fumbling around for a short tee, the next few moments were wasted clearing the teeing ground of anything and everything before shakily inserting my tee peg. Then one last look before sending her away.

My first thought was of relief as the ball took off towards the pin, the second was of confusion to see my left thumb hanging off the grip and the third, which culminated in a desperate shriek to land on terra firma, was of whether to use a practice ball for my next effort.

Maybe a late gust of wind or, more likely, poor club selection saw my faithful friend come down a foot shy of the sleepers and join the other 120,000 balls sunk on an annual basis.

A more realistic nine iron was then shoved way right but the wind, this time, came to my rescue and safely guided it to a spot roughly 50 feet away.

In between times, one of my playing partners sent his first attempt approximately 15 yards - before putting his next to six inches. Never have I seen an 18-handicapper look so underwhelmed by such a brilliant shot.

Despite our ordinary efforts there was no chance of any of our party emulating Angelo Spagnolo’s spectacular record here.

Taking part in ‘America’s Worst Avid Golfer’ competition in 1985, the grocery store manager hit 27 balls, from the tee and drop zone, into the water before rules officials finally persuaded him to putt around the hazard and down the narrow path that leads to the green. A 66 was the result - enough to ruin anyone’s card.