Golf: Gesture to the unknown golfer
Jock Howard finds the club pro is a major distraction at Winged Foot
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Does the name Bob Sowards mean anything to you? Probably not - the chances are that it will never mean anything to anybody except his close friends and family.
Sowards is a 29-year-old who looks a bit like a young Jack Nicklaus or a chubby John Daly. The similarities end there, however, because he is a golf club professional, which means he spends his days as the assistant in a pro shop, a sort of glorified shopkeeper. If he is not selling gloves and clubs to people, he is giving them golf lessons. Occasionally, near twilight, he is allowed out on to the course to play a few holes. This week he has been playing with the big boys, one of 26 club professionals in the US PGA championship.
On Wednesday this week, he played a practice round with Jack Nicklaus and Tom Watson. The most exciting thing in his life is usually teaching some old lady how to avoid shanking the ball and yet here he found himself walking down the same fairway as two of the greatest players the game has ever seen.
"I was much more nervous than I will be next week," said Sowards, who gets married on Saturday. "Jack and Tom were terrific. People kept shouting to me 'how's your dad playing?' because they thought I was Jack's son. I told them to ask him themselves, as he was walking beside them outside the ropes."
Sowards was the last man to tee off on Thursday and when he finished his first round it was so dark that he could hardly find his way back to the clubhouse. Someone had clearly forgotten to explain to him that club professionals are expected to shoot in the high 80s in this tournament. And so, standing on the 13th tee, Sowards was level par for the tournament and on the leader board. Then, on the par three 13th, he hit his tee shot to eight feet and looked like getting into red figures. As he addressed his ball, he noticed it roll a fraction of an inch. No one saw it except him. Without hesitation, he marked it, replaced his ball, and penalised himself two shots.
After this unfortunate moment, Sowards lost momentum, and he missed the cut by four shots. "I knew at the beginning that I didn't have the consistency to contend this week," he said.
It is difficult not to feel sympathy for Bob Sowards and the other club professionals here,who all have similar stories to tell; stories of glorious endeavour but ultimate failure. Of the 26 who set out on Thursday, all 26 missed the cut, some like John Paesani (24 over par) by some distance.
The question which the US PGA really needs to address is, should these men really be teeing it up in this event. Sowards so nearly achieved the impossible and made it through to the weekend. Indeed, if it had not been for his own brutal honesty, he may well have done so.
But honesty is not the only criteria for qualification into a major championship. These club professionals are not there because they are among the best 150 golfers in the world. They all know that much. They are there because they finished in the top 25 in their own annual competition, the Club Professional Championship, a closed event for club professionals. They are not even the best club professionals in the world, they are the best club professionals in the United States.
The argument against their participation is that this a major championship, not an annual party to reward a few chosen ones. Most club professionals who play are in their forties, have no ambition to become touring professionals, and know from the time they arrive at the US PGA that they have little chance of making the cut. No club professional has won the tournament for nearly half a century.
In theory, it is a nice gesture. In practice, it devalues a tournament which, in terms of both chronology and status, is still the fourth and last major of the year. It has the biggest trophy but the smallest prestige; the highest temperatures but the lowest attendance figures.
It is a bit like a grand prix with one-sixth of the field being driving instructors. Better luck on Saturday, Bob.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments