<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9001280270
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
900720
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Friday, July 20, 1990
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
ROAD TO HUMILIATION IS PAVED WITH HORRORS
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
"It's the most difficult hole in the world."

-- Seve Ballesteros

 
  ST. ANDREWS, Scotland -- First you pick a letter. Jack Nicklaus likes the
T in "HOTEL." Arnold Palmer goes with the S in  "COURSE." Mark Calcavecchia, a
little less picky, settles for anything between C and E. This is how you begin
the toughest par-4 in the world. Look straight ahead. Pick a letter on the
side of the railroad  shed. Aim. Swing.
  Pray.
  One hundred and fifty-six men were praying here Thursday, the first day of
the British Open, as they stepped up to the 17th hole. They were not praying
for birdies. You  don't even think about birdies when you tee off on Road
Hole, 461 yards of golfing terror that has been  frustrating players for at
least two centuries. You can't see where your ball is going. You have no idea
whether you're even in bounds. Birdies? No, you think about more important
things here -- like not hitting the hotel, which is between you and the green.
  "Uh-oh, looks like I might get a  window," Ray Floyd moaned during a
practice round, when his drive disappeared into the complex. Greg Norman,
standing nearby, tried not to laugh. "I just hope you don't have your name on
your ball," he said.
  This is what it's like on the toughest par-4 in the world. Windows with
protective glass. Walls with divots. A duck pond. Yes. You could land your tee
shot in a duck pond, too. It sits in  front of the hotel, which sits behind
the old railroad shed, which boasts the painted letters "ST. ANDREWS OLD
COURSE HOTEL" which you use to line up your shot, since the dumb thing is
completely blocking  your view of the green. And this is only your tee shot.
  Of course, if you are lucky, you sail that tee shot over all these
obstacles, avoiding the tall grass on the left side and the out-of-bounds  on
the right, and land somewhere on the bumpy fairway, which looks more like a
green carpet that was thrown over the kids' toys.
  Then comes your second shot.
The hard part is just beginning
 This, believe it or not, is actually the killer stroke, since the green you
are approaching is about as easy to get to as Michael Jackson's house. It is
long and narrow,  dropping off sharply in the  rear to a paved road and a
brick wall, all of which is in play. And, as if that weren't enough, on the
front left lies the infamous Road Bunker, which is as steep as a mountain and
deep enough to land  the lunar module from Apollo 11.
  Maybe you remember 1978, when Tommy Nakajima went into this thing, and
didn't come out until four strokes later? Whack! Plop. Whack! Plop. He sprayed
so many grains  that day, the headlines read "The Sands of Nakajima."
  So you have to be careful with shot No. 2. Danger left. Danger right.
Danger behind. Some meeker golfers don't even try for the green with their
second shot; they're content to sort of roll up to within striking range.
Most, however, go for glory -- this is, after all, a par-4 -- and many go
down. More than once, the championship has gone with  them.
  Back in 1930, Bobby Jones won the championship after his approach shot
bounced off a spectator's chest and rebounded 10 feet from the hole. Six years
ago, on the final day of this tournament,  Tom Watson, who had won the
previous two British opens, sailed his second shot too hard.  It bounced off
the green and rolled all the way to the wall. He also lost the title by one
stroke, to Seve Ballesteros;  he has not won a major since.
  Some say the 17th still haunts Watson. He  soon may have company. On
Thursday, a young Aussie named Craig Parry was leading the field, until his
second shot on 17 landed  by the wall. Double-bogey. Peter Jacobsen was tied
for the lead, until his second shot sailed into the bunker. Double-bogey.
Ballesteros was cruising, until he put his second shot behind the big yellow
scoreboard. Double-bogey. And the weather was nice Thursday.
  The scoreboard?
 Got any fours? Not many
  Wait. This brings us to the third shot. By this point, you are either on
the road, by the  wall, in the bunker, or on the green, in which case, I want
to be standing next to you during the next earthquake. We saw some interesting
third shots Thursday. Jacobsen got one foot in the bunker, and  blasted out
away from the flag, just to make sure he didn't pull a Nakajima. Some guy
named Joe Higgins wasn't so lucky; his ball did a loop-the-loop -- up the
steep bunker ledge and back over his head.  It landed about 20 feet behind
him. Now that's embarrassing.
  But then, that's what this hole is all about. Embarrassment. Humility. A
few hundred years of torture. They love it here in the birthplace  of golf.
They wouldn't touch a single blade of grass. "The reason this is the toughest
par-4 in the world," quipped Ben Crenshaw, "is because it's a par-5."
  Which, by the way, still wouldn't be enough  for Ballesteros, Jacobsen, Bob
Tway, Wayne Grady or Mike Reid, all of whom took 6's Thursday, and we won't
even mention the guys who took 7's, or the one lonely soul who
quadruple-bogeyed with an 8.
  Actually, I think he's still out there. He obviously picked the wrong
letter. He should have shot at "H."
  For HELP.
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
COLUMN; GOLF
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
