Illegal alien leaves hitch-hikers in the lurch

Travelling for anyone at this, the holiday time of year, is trying to say the least. For us caddies it's little short of a gross inconvenience. We now have to become well organised, booking flights well in advance is imperative if you are to travel within your budget. Not so many years ago we used to get away with taking the cheap, early Tuesday morning flight to a venue. Now, however, with players demanding more practice rounds many of us have to get going on Monday. The jet has had a positive and inconvenient affect on our lives as international porters.

The trouble with an early start to the week is that on arrival there is no formal transport from the airport to the golf course. So on landing, the keen caddie may find himself on a circuitous route on public transport to the course. There are not many courses easily accessible by public bus.

So the best scenario for a caddie on that Monday flight is to spot a player on board and by the time he is picking up his bags at the luggage carousel be strategically placed to assist the delicate player in taking his incredibly heavy golf bag off the conveyer belt while ascertaining how he is getting to the course.

Courtesy cars are available for players at most tournaments, this includes from the airport to the venue. If the player is travelling alone then the chances are there will be room in the car for a couple of light-travelling caddies. All sorts of complications arise when there are numerous players and caddies on board. This may lead to some serious haggling. It's not uncommon for the aggressive caddie to jump on a lift before the plane takes off.

An even better scenario, of course, is if the player is looking for a caddie and vice versa and they reach a deal as they are waiting for their luggage to arrive. The ultimate is if you get a bag at the airport and a lift in a courtesy car. This is a rare occurrence. Hennie Otto was on the afternoon flight from London to Schipol Airport last Monday. So were "Saigon" and Drummo. (The ideal scenario, a player and two caddies.) Hennie is a young South African player whose best finish to date is fifth place in the South African Open last year. Although he has earned his Tour Card this year by finishing in the top 15 in the Challenge Tour Ranking last year, he is still a bit wet behind the ears when it comes to the practicalities of moving around Europe without a European passport.

I arrived at Immigration after a marathon walk from Gate D31 in the sprawling Dutch airport to be greeted by a stunned looking Otto. He looked like he had been concussed in a rugby scrum and was trying to make some sense of the aftermath of the mauling. There he was, a white South African quite a distance from home, being detained by a very tall, uncompromising man in a uniform (not unlike the police uniform of his native SA) telling him he was not going past the security gate without a visa. Desperate pleas in his Afrikaans accent of "but my terravil aygent toold me I musn't get won" were not making any impression on the Immigration Officer. Otto had seen many people in such uncompromising positions in his homeland before, but this was an ancestor, a fellow Dutchman, waving the big stick at him. Surely there was a way around this misunderstanding. "Can't you call the tournament," he appealed. As I appeared, like a long lost friend (I know him by sight only), the despairing golfer mumbled at me to give him the tour schedule so that the Immigration Officer could see why he was here. Although the officer politely browsed at the neatly printed card, his eyes suggested that it resembled nothing like the visa he really needed to see stamped in his passport.

Meanwhile, the two caddies who had been waiting smugly outside for the hapless South African, who was getting to grips with the idea of being an illegal alien, were not as sure of their chauffeur-driven lift to the golf course as they were before Otto went to pass through Immigration.

When I arrived past the customs check, I was greeted by the impatient duo who unceremoniously asked if I had seen one Hendrik Johannes Otto inside. I had to reply that I had, but the news wasn't good, no visa. With this "Saigon" and Drummo resigned themselves to the long haul which had already involved the plane journey and were just about to start the train and automobile part of the trip.

The two caddies ended up in Noordwijkse much later than expected. Hennie, alas, ended up back in Jan Smuts International airport on a fresh winter's morning mumbling something about diplomacy and visas, unnecessary red tape and feeling as removed from his Dutch heritage as he ever had felt. England's Andrew Beale was at the same time packing his bag in a hurry (one door shuts for a South African and opens for an Englishman) having been given the news that there was an extra spot in the Dutch Open. Hennie in the meantime has got a new passport and a bundle of visas and is looking forward to a warm reception from the authorities in Stockholm's Arlanda Airport today and a prolonged stay in Europe.