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replacing it with his left, or vice versa, but always two to three
feet nearer to the hole. Bob had not noticed this at first until,
quite early in the round; a five-footer became a two-footer. He was
shocked, but said nothing and watched his partner carefully from
then on. The performance continued for the duration of the round. I
advised him that there was only one course open to him and I headed
him in the direction of the Secretary’s office. He said his piece
and it was then up to the committee to take action. The player was
watched and it was confirmed that he was cheating and, although no
report was issued, we learned that he had been carpeted and given an
official warning.
The incident was never made public and, to the best of my knowledge,
no one but the people involved ever got to know about it. It would
have been explosive had the press got wind of it; golfers were
expected to be squeaky clean in those days, just as they are now –
and the player concerned was one of the top pros of the day. The
up-shot was swift action by the PGA, which effectively put a stop to
making a mark on the green. At the next tournament every player was
issued with an official PGA ball marker and told to use it.
Eventually a note to rule 20-1 specified that: “the position of a
ball to be lifted should be marked by placing a ball-marker, a small
coin or other similar object immediately behind the ball”. I have
always wondered if I had a small roll in bringing that about.
I defended the Irish Open at Portmarnock, which at 7200 yards was
the longest course we played back then. With narrow fairways and
thick rough it was so tough that a syndicate put up £200 for anyone
who broke 70. Bobby Locke had a third round 69 and won the £200,
which was £50 more than I got for winning the championship. Henry
Cotton had looked a certain winner when he went into a three-stroke
lead over Locke and the overnight leader, Arthur Lees (Dore and
Totley), but Locke finished with three birdies leaving Henry needing
an eagle three at the 470-yard 18th to take the title. On the tee he
remarked: “It’s a 3 or a 5” – apparently a 4 to tie Locke was not in
his thinking. He took three to get down from the edge of the green,
watched in silence by a gallery of five thousand. In contrast Locke
seemed unable to miss on the greens, provoking Henry to call him “a
lucky young fellow”. It did not go down well with Bobby, who said
that he had played the finest golf of his life. It was the first of
his many victories in Europe.
Locke’s manager had tried to set up a challenge match with Cotton
for a lucrative £1000, but Henry refused, saying that Locke would
need to win a few big events, like the News of the World or the Open
before he would play him head to head. This and Henry’s comments in
Ireland created quite an ‘atmosphere’ when they next met a week
later in a 36-hole four-ball challenge match at Walton Heath, in
which Henry partnered Reg Whitcombe against Locke and Syd Brews.
Henry arrived late on the tee and Locke retaliated by taking even
longer than usual on the greens. Again he was holing everything and
went out in 32 in the final round to give the South Africans a
one-hole advantage. It was then that Henry played a shot that has
been written about more often than any in his distinguished career.
At the 391-yard dogleg 12th he drove across the corner carrying the
ball some 300 yards over the heather and bushes to the edge of the
green. The resultant birdie squared the match and the British team
went on to win 2 and 1. Locke always said that Henry’s shot at the
12th was the greatest drive he had ever seen; any animosity was to
be overcome by the mutual respect of the two great champions.
The conclusion was described by the Manchester Guardian: “At the end
of another laborious day’s golf, which took so long that one could
almost see the growth of the grass on the putting greens, T. H. Cotton
and R. A. Whitcombe, the Open Champion, won their £500 challenge match
against A. D. Locke and S. F. Brews” It was so slow that “it was
possible to drink a bottle of ginger beer at the refreshment hut at
the seventh and yet catch up the players before they had struck
their second shots at the hole”, said the reporter, adding that
Locke seemingly examined each blade of grass on the greens and
complaining: “The age-long golf match lasted for something like
seven hours”. – A four-ball would take a good deal longer than that
to play 35 holes today!
I went to the annual Ringway Pro/Am Foursomes, not so quiet since
1935 when the club had acquired a new neighbour in the shape of the
Ringway Aerodrome, which was eventually to grow into the Manchester
International Airport. Nobody could have foreseen then that the
course would one day have a motorway passing by and huge jets flying
overhead carrying millions every year to and from all parts of the
world. My partner was now Bill Ball from the Leasowe club on the
Wirral, which was near to my own club of West Cheshire. Bill was an
inveterate gambler and had once won enough money at poker to buy
himself a car. The Manchester Guardian described the final round
thus:
“Remarkably low scoring resulted in a day only to be compared with
the international political outlook, except that the situation
changed not hourly but every few minutes. Finally it was learnt that
W. Ball (Leasowe) and B. Gadd (West Cheshire) had won after a tie with
J. Beswick and W. Shankland (Haydock Park). They had rounds of 72 – 69
for 141 and the result was decided on the better score in the first
round (no play- off this time).
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