Johnson column: Only golf can turn a star into a hacker

by Martin Johnson

It was good to see John Paramor buzzing around Wentworth in his buggy last week, pointing at his watch and asking various ­players whether there was any prospect of them completing their round before the EU referendum. One of golf’s enduring mysteries is that the slowest players are the ones who take around 20 shots fewer than most of us to play 18 holes.

However, on the opening day of the PGA championship there was indeed a golfer out there taking about that many strokes – 22 to be precise – more than the first-round leaders, although the TV cameras weren’t around to record whether he too was visited by an ­official-looking chap in a buggy ­enforcing one of Wentworth’s numerous strict rules for visitors. “Er, excuse me old chap, but when you’ve retrieved your ball from Ernie Els’s front garden would you mind if I took a look at your ­handicap certificate?”

The player in question was Jin Jeong, one of the most talented golfers to come out of Korea. Not quite in the same class perhaps as that dictator chap from the North, whose first and only round resulted in a 38-under-par 34 and 11 holes in one, but nonetheless a class above the hackers you normally find removing large divots from the Wentworth Estate on a corporate Thursday.

Jin, who opted not to come back for a second outing after an opening 87, won the British Amateur championship at Muirfield in 2010, and was leading ­amateur in that year’s Open, finishing tied for 14th at St Andrews. And after turning professional the following year, he won his first European Tour event – the Perth International in Australia – in 2013. Clearly the lad could play a bit.

Since then, however, there have been more sightings of Lord Lucan than Jin playing golf on a weekend. This year, before Wentworth, he’s been to ­Johannesburg, Abu Dhabi, Qatar, Dubai, Malaysia, Perth, Thailand, China and Dublin, and played in 11 tournaments finishing 150th, 147th, tied 112nd, tied 152nd, tied 108th, tied 71st, 129th, tied 118th, 124th, tied 163rd, and 153rd. Total prize money, zero. Total prize money in 2015? Another zero. And Wentworth was his 23rd consecutive missed cut.

It’s hard to think of a sport to compare to golf when it comes to suddenly ­vanishing, Bermuda Triangle-like, off the radar. You get the occasional case of the centre-forward who one day wakes up to find that he is now more of an expert at locating the corner flag than the net, but, on the whole, ­disappearances in other sports take a more gentle downward curve.

I can speak here from personal ­experience. To call me anything other than your average hacker would be unwarranted flattery and yet, one ­morning back in the 1990s, I woke up to discover that I was now in a position to give up proper work and set about demolishing Jack Nicklaus’s record of a paltry 18 Major championships.

It was in Zimbabwe, where caddies are the norm, and my man Brian let out a gasp of appreciation when my opening tee-shot flew from the sweet spot and down the middle of the fairway. As gasps go, in fact, it was second only to my own after the same shot, the ­difference being that this was one of astonishment.

Amazingly, it went on for the entire 18 holes. Brian would say,“Take a bit off an eight-iron to keep it below the hole”, and I’d take a bit off an eight-iron and keep it below the hole. Then he’d say “it’s a treacherous putt curving left to right”, and I’d curve it left to right straight into the middle of the hole. And when we left the 18th green, all he wanted out of life was to caddy for me in the Open, the Masters, and the other Majors.

It was such an out of body experience that I decided to turn pro the following day, but opted for nine more farewell holes as a gifted amateur after lunch. Brian handed me the driver on the first tee, and away it soared.

It achieved a maximum height of two inches, and while the divot just cleared the ladies’ tee, the ball did not. And so it went on, ending nine holes and roughly 60 strokes later, and Brian inconsolable that a new career flying round the world in a private jet and pocketing 10 per cent of my vast earnings had vanished in the time that it had taken to consume a bacon and cheese toastie and a bottle of beer.

There’s a member of my club who not so long ago was single figures, but who now has a handicap of 19, and the only thing that can prevent him from ­eventually bottoming out at 28 is if death gets there first. His hitherto ­feathery grip has now been replaced by something reminiscent of the Boston Strangler, and if anyone has a poisonous snake in their garden which needs despatching with a five-iron, then this guy has the ideal technique for the task.

It’s not quite so bad when it’s not ­actually affecting your annual income, unless you’re playing loser buys the drinks, but for pros it must be mind-blowing to suddenly find that you’ve lost it. One of the best additions to the Sky commentary team for ages is Nick Dougherty, but the fact remains that he wouldn’t be doing it if he could still play golf. To the standard he once was, that is.

Ian Baker-Finch, the 1991 Open champion, is perhaps the best known example of someone whose game ­disintegrated overnight, and he ­eventually gave it up.

Others, though, are still out there struggling along, Major champions some of them, like David Duval and Mike Weir, along with golfers who came and went more or less overnight. Into which category fall the 1998 Open runner-up Brian Watts, and that American with the knickerbockers, Bobby Clampett.

Even so, I think I am going to give turning pro another go. Looking for Jin Jeong in the world rankings, I found him joint-last – tied with, wait for it, 6,313 others. Four hundred and eight of them fellow South Koreans.

Clearly, in professional golf, there is only so far down you can travel, and so once I’ve renounced my amateur status, I shall officially take my place alongside the likes of Sir Nick Faldo and Fred ­Couples as the joint-1,788th best player in the world.

*This article was orignally published in TGP on 1 June 2016.

Tagged Jin Jeong, Martin Johnson