Fraternity of fairway trumps gulf in class

Sideline Cut:Professional golfers are considered the pinnacle of excellence by the amateurs of the breed. It's an attitude representative of an evolutionary pecking order applicable to most sports.

Everyone who participates shares an introduction to golf, and while the age at which players are first exposed to the sport may vary, for many the starting point has many similarities.

The ensuing disparities in the journeys are often the result of differences in attitude, talent, desire, work ethic and a shard or two of fortune or misfortune. And so you arrive at the gulf that eventually separates the professional from the amateur golfer.

Even the terms "professional" and "amateur", however, cover a multitude of strata within each caste. And yet whatever the gulf, there exists a mutual empathy - because the fundamentals of the sport remain the same, whether in the paid or paying ranks. It's about putting (or chipping or whatever) a ball in a hole in the fewest possible shots.

The above-mentioned rapport is cemented by the knowledge that there are very few sports in which an amateur and professional can rub shoulders in a meaningfully competitive environment: we are thinking particularly of the pro-am, a five-and-a-half-hour exercise in chastisement for one group and tolerance or even anger management for the other.

There can also be certain symmetry in attitude. A 210-yard carry over water into a stiff breeze, which for the duffer requires the purity of ball strike achieved only once in a lifetime, is not enough to discourage the amateur, who hacks away in the happy conviction that one crowded moment of glorious success is worth an age of watery sighs and rueful grins.

Occasionally the professional emulates the amateur in terms of cock-eyed optimism, and there were one or two such instances at the Irish PGA Championship at The European Club last week.

The first happened when a player, for safety and distance reasons, wisely took an iron off the tee but saw his ball career through the fairway and climb four feet up a dune. The lie was what might charitably be described as unfavourable: the ball was nestled well below the feet, the stance requiring serious bodily contortions and precarious balance. The player, moreover, had to negotiate some 150 yards to an elevated green over a valley.

Many amateurs would have had little hesitation in taking an inappropriate club, swinging like a dervish and moving the ball two feet while suffering a hernia.

This particular professional, still smarting from a tee shot that had scampered too far, chose a club with which it was possible to reach the green and took his stance.

Given the lie, the ensuing shank was only mildly surprising; the ball scuttled across the fairway before plunging into even thicker rough. Two more shots were required to reach the putting surface.

The par-four, seventh hole is the index one at The European Club: marsh on the left and water and out-of-bounds on the right of what appears from the tee a ribbon of fairway.

This particular competitor struck a superb drive, slightly left of centre, then promptly blocked a four iron "out of town".

The hole offers a microcosm of the differences in attitude.

Most amateurs aim to miss the green left, where there is a substantial land mass. The professional sees the danger but disregards it when playing well, and it's that bullet-proof feeling that can lead to his undoing. The amateur is usually blinded by the danger and, suspended between ambition and safety, hits a fudge shot.

Undoubtedly the most high-profile golfing aberration in that tournament was provided by the eventual winner, Padraig Harrington, at the 17th hole, where he took a triple-bogey seven, turning a two-hole lead into a one-shot deficit.

Harrington's character was reflected in his response; he grabbed a birdie at the last and then prevailed in a play-off.

Those tribulations on the 17th endorsed Harrington's belief that he's most vulnerable on the golf course when playing well; because there is no shot he cannot hit and there is no mental amber light.

Conversely, when his ball striking isn't as good, he tends to be a little more conservative in his choice of shot. That's why you will often hear him saying after shooting a 66 that his ball striking wasn't that good, while after signing for a 74, he'll assert it was exemplary.

His problems on that particular hole last weekend also bring to mind an important maxim: if you're uncomfortable standing over the shot, walk away.

Harrington confirmed he neglected to do that and it cost him dearly. He was also disappointed in trying to hit a seven-iron out of a lie where the odds about a successful outcome were heavily stacked against him.

Given the emotional ties that link professional and amateur it was therefore disappointing to see the paltry galleries that turned out at Brittas Bay to watch the world's number 10 player, a former Ryder Cup star in Philip Walton, an ex-British Amateur Open champion in Michael Hoey and a tour player, David Higgins, among others, on one of Ireland's best courses.

There were no ropes, so fans could stroll down fairways and hug the contours of greens, getting within touching distance of the competitors.

The small attendance is arguably symptomatic of a general apathy toward professional golf tournaments in this country in recent years, apart from the Ryder Cup or American Express events.

Even the Irish Open had lost its cachet with the public, although this year's staging at Adare Manor under the stewardship of Tom Kane produced a modest revival that bodes well.

The Smurfit European Open has been blighted by gales and rain and a cast-list declining in genuine star quality.

The key to any revival though in spectating terms lies in attracting golf's star names and a proactive marketing campaign, the essence of which is to genuinely encourage punters to turn up. That project has to be based on realistic pricing, reflecting the quality of the field.

The prevalence of golf on television and the thriving club scene in Ireland have encouraged many to try emulating the professionals. Of course they also tend to celebrate the world's best players - but not often enough from outside the gallery ropes.