Many of us have regretted, no doubt, not having had the good fortune to be born of wealthy parents who could have indulged our every whim. One suspects there are very few, however, who would wish to have been the progeny of sporting celebrities, especially if it meant measuring up to the public's expectations.
We are all familiar with the "he'll-never-be-a-patch-on-his-father" syndrome. One can imagine how difficult it must be for Jack Nicklaus's sons to play competitive golf. And it requires no great insight to understand why the eldest, 36-year-old Jack Jnr, has long since departed the competitive scene in favour of golf course designing.
Harry Bradshaw Jnr knew that feeling. There is a charming photograph of him as a youngster in short pants, swinging a cut-down club at Portmarnock, while his father looked on. A splendid grounding in the game, one would conclude. Yet he no longer plays golf. In fact he hasn't done for years.
Though he is reluctant to talk about it, the RTE music producer eventually got tired of people unfairly comparing him to his father. His remarkable likeness to The Brad was a strong pointer in itself and the name removed any lingering doubts as to the family link. "My golf handicap was my name," he said simply. "The old man was an impossible act to follow."
Earlier this week, I met him at the Government reception for World Cup heroes Padraig Harrington and Paul McGinley. Though he was only nine at the time of the Canada Cup triumph of 1958, he has cause to remember it with considerable affection.
"When the old man came back from Mexico, he said `I have a present for you'," Harry recalled. "With that, he produced this wonderful new watch and strapped it to my wrist: my first watch."
With that, Harry pulled up his left cuff. "There it is," he added proudly. "Thirty nine years on, it has had three or four new winders, four new glass faces and about 20 straps. But it still works perfectly."
That famous victory was also notable for debunking some decidedly unfair impressions here about Henry Longhurst being anti-Irish, simply because he had once described Bradshaw's swing as agricultural. Reflecting on the Canada Cup, he made a point of highlighting the difficulties of playing at altitude.
Longhurst wrote: "While others were sinking exhausted in the locker room, he (The Brad) was ready with affable conversation. As for the fears of dysentery - `I drink the water out of the tap. If you're going to get it, you'll get it anyway."'
The piece concluded: "My colleagues are due shortly to elect a Golfer of the Year who has `done most for British golf.' Had they seen him in Mexico, they would look no further than Harry Bradshaw - and never mind what part of Ireland he comes from!" Suffice to say that The Brad got the award a few weeks later.
"It has 14 completely blind holes; 18 greens you can't putt; play without a caddie and you can't find your ball and 97 per cent of the people who play there never post a score. Yet it is voted the number one course in the world." A not-so-impartial assessment of Pine Valley by the irascible US architect, Pete Dye.
Out in Kiawah Island last week, I missed the opportunity of noting the demise of Joyce Wethered, a legendary figure of golf who became more formally known under her married name of Lady Heathcoat-Amory. To overlook her passing would be an unforgivable omission, given her huge impact on the game.
Bobby Jones once commented that he had never felt so outclassed as after a round with her. And Henry Cotton saw fit to analyse her game in some detail. Afterwards, he concluded that her length off the tee was comparable to a male scratch player; her fairway woods were as straight as the short irons of most professionals; her chipping and putting exemplary, while her strongest feature was the pitch-and-run shot with mid irons.
In 1920, as a 19-year-old, she first entered the English Championship "just for fun" and went on to beat no less a figure than Cecil Leitch in the final. And by the time she won the last of four British Championships at St Andrews in 1929, she had won 36 of the 38 matches she played in that event.
She went on to play in the inaugural Curtis Cup matches in 1932 before renouncing her amateur status for a series of exhibition matches in the US, usually involving Gene Sarazen, Babe Zaharias and Horton Smith. Main interest centred on how she fared against the long-hitting Babe whom she outscored by several strokes per round. Indeed in 52 matches, Wethered set no fewer than 18 course records.
John Paramor is proud of his reputation as chief referee of the European Tour. But he is also humble enough to acknowledge that he and an American colleague almost became parties to a serious injustice during the World Cup.
It happened on the final day when the French team of Marc Farry and Jean Van de Velde were due off the tee at 8.25 a.m. Though the players were there at 8.25 a.m., their caddies weren't. Which meant that Farry and Van de Velde were not ready to start at the stipulated time.
"When the starter reported the matter to myself and the other referees, the players were down the first fairway," said Paramor. "It was only then that we noticed the starting clock. All our watches were synchronised and we could see that the official clock was two minutes fast."
He concluded: "The Rules require competitors to be ready for play at the appointed time, otherwise they incur a two-stroke penalty. So, the French team would have been penalised unfairly, had we not noticed that the clock was wrong."
It's hard at times not to think of professional golfers as a decidedly spoilt group, especially with regard to the courses they play. Officials worry whether a particular venue will be too long or too short; its greens too fast or too slow; the rough excessively severe; the bunker-sand the correct texture.
Such thoughts became genuine concerns during preparations for the World Cup last week. So it was that without waiting to see what the weather might do, tournament organisers ensured there wouldn't be a repetition of the complaints which dominated the 1991 Ryder Cup. Which meant the tees were moved forward, significantly.
Pete Dye, the course designer, observed it all with some amusement. And he remembered when he was chairman of the "500 Open" tournament at his native Indianapolis, back in 1961. "They played nine holes inside the (motor) race track and you had all that noise," he recalled.
Dye went on: "The golfers played Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, then took Saturday off while the Indianapolis 500 was held. Tickets were for seven days at seven dollars. They parked cars all over the course and littered the place with chicken bones and beer cans.
"I had two young players by the name of Ken Venturi and Mike Souchak staying with me and I was worried about getting the cans and bones swept off the golf course. The purse was $55,000 and they told me not to worry. `For $55,000 Pete, we'll play down Main Street."'
He concluded: "Some bones were still there when Doug Ford won the title by beating Arnold Palmer in a play-off. My! The game sure has made a helluva change since then."
This day in golf history . . . On November 29th 1992, US televised golf was turned on its head when a contrived event - essentially a commercial gimmick - attracted more viewers than the British Open or the USPGA Championship. With a rating of 4.4, the annual Skins Game from Palm Desert, reached 4,605,000 homes.
The format of that year's Skins Game, which, incidentally, is being played this weekend, was $20,000 per hole for holes one to six; $30,000 each for holes seven to 12 and $40,000 each for the last six holes. In the event, Payne Stewart won six skins for a return of $220,000; Fred Couples had eight skins for $210,000; Greg Norman won four for $110,000 and Tom Kite, the other member of the quartet, drew a blank.
Teaser: In a match between A and B, A chips and his ball comes to rest about one foot from the hole. B concedes A's next stroke. A states that he wishes to lift his ball. However, B proceeds to play his next stroke before A has an opportunity to lift his ball and B's ball strikes A's ball. What is the ruling?
Answer: B deprived A of his right to lift his ball after his next stroke was conceded. In equity (Rule 1-4), B lost the hole, whether or not his ball struck A's ball.
