Originally Published on July 29, 2017 by ranchomurieta.com

Diaries written by: Don Thames

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FINAL DAYS:

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Bridgend, Wales – I have been especially struck with the complete global nature of this event. Even though English is the universal language here, the various dialects are difficult to understand. I met a Scottish lad from the qualifying and he has become a caddie for another player. Billy’s brogue allows me to understand about 40 percent of what he says. At nearly 63 years of age, I am also taken aback by how young some of these 50-year-olds appear. I read earlier that there is a 1,000-pound bonus for low super senior (60+) after 72 holes. This is only a small incentive for me to make the cut. Spending two more days playing tops the list of reasons to stick around.

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Last night we had no choice but to dine in the sports bar at the Vale. With pause, I ordered another hamburger. I specifically stated that I would prefer it to be rare. I should have known better. I spotted Costantino Rocca at a table in the corner by himself. Without inhibition, I joined him for a chat. We spoke in Spanish and he delighted me with stories about the golf course, his thoughts about caddies and his reasons for Italy’s lack of growth in the game. Mr. Rocca speaks five languages. He listed Spanish as his second strongest and English and French as his weakest.

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He bought me a pint and I finally had to ask him about his legendary episode on the 18th at St. Andrews when he holed the long putt and dropped to the ground pounding it joyfully with his fists. Of course, John Daly went on to win and thus my trepidation in asking him about the affair. His answer was simple but not without a tiny bit of pain. “Destiny,” he said. Just then, Jose Maria Olazabal, Miguel Angel Jimenez and another Spaniard (unknown to me) stopped at our table, conversing in Spanish with Costantino. I waited my time and said, “Mucho gusto, Jose Maria. Me llamo Daniel" (my Spanish handle). I said the same to the others, as they were all gracious in our gathering.

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Today, our starting time is the last of the day at 3:40. We were the last of the morning wave yesterday. I would want to complain about my lot in the draw but I should not. Mr. Rocca told me that he believed the cut will be around plus 11 or 12. Resting at plus 8 I believe that I can do it and must play a great game to do so. Hole number 9 was converted from a par five to a four at 458 yards straight into the wind. Some of these par fours are just playing like five pars as I simply cannot reach them in two shots.

I am sitting here in our hotel room looking outside at the wind and rain. Perhaps the morning boys will get a proper turnabout and have their chance to battle the showers.

 

Yesterday, one of the members volunteers greeted us as the rain began to pour down, “Welcome to sunny Royal Porthcawl!” The members here are very proud of the golf course, as they should be. Although the playing surfaces are somewhat thin in spots, the overall condition is immaculate. The first cut of rough, unlike a U.S. Open venue, is often playable. The big trouble comes when you stray farther from the fairway to find heather, fern or gorse. We are setting out now to have a proper English breakfast, I suppose.
 

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