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The Guardian
5 days ago
- Sport
- The Guardian
Max Faulkner and ‘the greatest shot': the story of Portrush's first Open champion
'Max Faulkner. Open champion 1951'. Faulkner signed those words for a young fan who had offered up a golf ball en route to the first tee of the final round at Royal Portrush. He regretted it almost immediately. While he held a commanding six-shot lead before the 1951 Open's last 18 holes, there now existed an embarrassing piece of evidence should he fail to deliver. Fortunately for Faulkner, despite an errant drive on the 1st hole, he went on to fulfil his prophecy by two strokes. It would take 18 years before another English golfer, Tony Jacklin, hoisted the Claret Jug. As the Open returns to Northern Ireland for the third time at Portrush, many will have fond memories of Shane Lowry's emotional victory in 2019. Yet fewer will recall Faulkner's improbable triumph during a vastly different era, one without rangefinders and swing analysis, when golfers had to rely on intuition and experience to conquer Portrush. 'The Open is one tournament you can't win suddenly from out of the blue: you have to get a taste for it,' wrote Faulkner, who died in 2005 aged 88. He was no stranger to Portrush, having come third in the Irish Open on his 21st birthday at the same venue. To tackle the super-quick greens, described by Faulkner as 'the fastest he had ever seen for an Open Championship', he pivoted to a pencil-slim putter weighing just 11 ounces (312g). Before the tournament, three-time Open champion Henry Cotton had snapped a picture of Faulkner, then 34, arms aloft, explaining to American amateur Frank Stranahan and England's Ken Bousfield how he would win the tournament. They are laughing, for good reason. Two-time defending champion Bobby Locke, who would finish tied-sixth, was undoubtedly the favourite. Cotton and 1947 winner Fred Daly were also among the 98-strong field. Not to mention that Faulkner had admitted to playing 'rubbish' golf prior to the event. There was a sense of conviction in his words though. 'I'll show them this time,' he told his wife, Joan. A fairly average opening round of 71 on Wednesday meant he started three shots adrift. But when his competitors faltered facing Thursday's windy conditions, Faulkner stood firm and carded a respectable 70, earning him a two-shot lead. The razor-thin putter had brought results, needing just 27 and 24 putts, respectively. The final 36 holes of the Open were played on the same day that year. He scored another 70 on Friday morning to increase his lead to six, over Argentinian Antonio Cerdá, thanks to a shot described by playing partner Stranahan as 'the greatest shot I've ever seen'. After a wayward drive on Babington's, then the par-four 16th (No 18 today), Faulkner found his ball next to a barbed-wire fence. 'I thought there was just a chance if I lifted the club up steeply enough to miss the stile, deliberately sliced the shot and lifted the club up immediately after impact to avoid tearing my hands on the barbed wire,' he wrote. Faulkner executed it just like he had imagined, hitting a ridiculous slice with his four-wood which found the green, to save par. The afternoon began with a sense of foreboding after he signed the young boy's ball and felt jitters from the 1st tee. Faulkner, whose lead had been significantly reduced by the time he reached the 18th, recalled: 'My knees were a bit shaky as I bent down and I had some trouble getting the ball on the tee.' Still, he smoked his final drive down the fairway and a crowd had gathered around his ball. This was a time before tournaments began roping off holes, when besides dealing with the pressure of the moment, golfers had to be mindful not to lose a shoe amid the encroaching spectators. Sign up to The Recap The best of our sports journalism from the past seven days and a heads-up on the weekend's action after newsletter promotion A marker stood over Faulkner's ball and cleared a space for his crucial approach shot. After pulling out his trusty four-wood, an old friend, Jimmy Adams, hissed loudly at him, trying to tell him he was overclubbing by some distance. There was no hiding behind overzealous marshals, desperately waving 'quiet please' paddles back and forth over their heads as if their lives depended on it. He shanked his approach, which fortuitously stayed in play after ricocheting off a spectator's chest, nestling in long grass on a slope. Miraculously, Faulkner found the green with a superb recovery shot and two-putted for bogey. He signed for a 74, but without giant scoreboards to indicate how his competitors were faring, he didn't know if it was enough. It took another hour before a messenger rushed forward with good news. 'Tony Cerdá's taken six. It's your Open.' Faulkner's 285 total at Portrush, the sixth-worst winning score since 1946, will most certainly not be enough to win there in 2025. But his confidence and fearless approach, on one of the toughest links courses, remain relevant 74 years later.
Telegraph
5 days ago
- Sport
- Telegraph
Time for an English golfer to end the Open curse
Sir Nick Faldo laughs when it is put to him that he quite enjoys his country's void of Open champions increasing by one every year. It has risen to 33 and that's beyond the threshold of David Baddiel and Frank Skinner's '30 years of hurt'. 'I'm an Englishman,' Faldo says. 'Of course I want one of the guys to win. It's getting a bit lonely in that club. Just me and Tony [Jacklin] in God knows how long.' Of course, Faldo lifted the Claret Jug on three occasions. But from 1951, when the flamboyantly dressed Max Faulkner – AKA the Peacock of Portrush – prevailed at this layout in 1951 there have only been two representatives under the flag of St George who have been named 'Champion Golfer of the Year' in nigh on three-quarters of a century. Some might find that stat incredible when it is put next to the fact that up to 1950, there were 16 Claret Jugs bedecked in the white and red. However, that differential can be quite easily explained. Between them, Australian Peter Thomson and South African Bobby Locke cleaned up before Arnold Palmer inspired the Americans to travel over for what many of the Starred and Striped still insist on referring to as 'the British Open'. That changed everything, elevating the championship to previously unvisited heights. But the English were somewhat trampled upon in the march of Uncle Sam. They still are, in many respects, with 17 US golfers having triumphed since Faldo's victory at Muirfield in 1992. But still, the drought is one of the more curious anomalies in the sport, when one considers that the nation has toasted four other majors in the intervening period, as well as four world No 1s and four other players who cracked the world's top five. The vagaries of links golf is supposed to suit the home players, isn't it? In fairness, there have been a parade of English bridesmaids. And those bouquet gatherers are becoming more commonplace. Justin Rose finished second last year, Tommy Fleetwood in the same position here six years ago, Rose the year before that, Lee Westwood in 2010, Ian Poulter in 2008. Poulter's runner-up place behind Padraig Harrington at Royal Birkdale was the first time England had a place on the lower podium since Faldo, himself, was defeated by his old pal Greg Norman in 1993. And it says much for Poulter's competitive spirit that he thought he had holed a putt for the win in Southport. 'We were on the 18th and the weather was rough and I was looking at the leaderboard and I thought, if Poults holes this 20-footer for birdie we'll bloody win this,' Terry Mundy, his popular caddie, recalls. 'Poults then calls me over and I thought he wanted me to look at the line. He never does that and I thought he was nervous. But when I got there he said: 'You know when you were young on the putting green and you told yourself this is for the Open?' 'Yeah,' I replied. 'Well, this is,' Poults said. And he holed it. But then Padraig had that amazing finish and it wasn't to be.' Tyrrell Hatton can chime with this anecdote. He was in major contention for the first time at last month's US Open before a bad break at the 17th – when his drive ridiculously came to rest in the thick rough on the downslope of the bunker – but came away convinced that this meant he does have the capabilities to secure the game's biggest prizes. 'I think when you've been in that position you know how you felt and how you responded,' he said. 'I was nervous, sure, but I kept it together and next time I'm in that position I'll know that I can handle it. That's a big step. And yes, that includes the Open. A major is a major. There is no more pressure. And that English drought is not a curse or anything. That's daft.' Rose concurs and does not even feel this barren spell has yet become, as he says, 'a thing'. 'It's not as if it's in the same league as no British males winning at Wimbledon for 77 years or whatever it was,' Rose said. 'And has it got to the stage where it could actually be called an obstacle for an Englishman winning an Open? Paul [Lawrie], Darren [Clarke] and Rory [McIlroy] have all won Claret Jugs for the UK since Nick's last one and obviously Shane [Lowry] for Ireland. Of course, it would be great to do it for England, though.' Jacklin is not so sure. He was the last but-one winner for his country – 56 years ago – and feels the pressure does play a part. 'Naturally the Open is the one they most want to win as it's in the UK and this just makes it that bit more stressful for them,' he said. Rose understands that point, but believes that is the secret to his profession. 'It's probably harder because you want it more,' he said. 'It's the inner battle, right? You want it, but you've got to not want it too much in order for it to not impede your performance. So that's always a dance that we do.' For his part, Faldo thinks Rose, at 44, is best equipped to breach the gap. 'Rosie is the most obvious, isn't he?' he said. 'After what he did when getting to that play-off at Augusta [where he was beaten by McIlroy] and he was second last year. We are going to talk a lot about the wind all week. There has to be a lot of good thinking, good decision-making on club selection and assessing the wind. And I think Rosie has a pretty good formula on that. We'd all like to see him win. Nobody would begrudge him. Even, I guess, those who don't like England.'
The Guardian
6 days ago
- Sport
- The Guardian
Max Faulkner and ‘the greatest shot': the story of Portrush's first Open champion
'Max Faulkner. Open champion 1951'. Faulkner signed those words for a young fan who had offered up a golf ball en route to the first tee of the final round at Royal Portrush. He regretted it almost immediately. While he held a commanding six-shot lead before the 1951 Open's last 18 holes, there now existed an embarrassing piece of evidence should he fail to deliver. Fortunately for Faulkner, despite an errant drive on the 1st hole, he went on to fulfil his prophecy by two strokes. It would take 18 years before another English golfer, Tony Jacklin, hoisted the Claret Jug. As the Open returns to Northern Ireland for the third time at Portrush, many will have fond memories of Shane Lowry's emotional victory in 2019. Yet fewer will recall Faulkner's improbable triumph during a vastly different era, one without rangefinders and swing analysis, when golfers had to rely on intuition and experience to conquer Portrush. 'The Open is one tournament you can't win suddenly from out of the blue: you have to get a taste for it,' wrote Faulkner, who died in 2005 aged 88. He was no stranger to Portrush, having come third in the Irish Open on his 21st birthday at the same venue. To tackle the super-quick greens, described by Faulkner as 'the fastest he had ever seen for an Open Championship', he pivoted to a pencil-slim putter weighing just 11 ounces (312g). Before the tournament, three-time Open champion Henry Cotton had snapped a picture of Faulkner, then 34, arms aloft, explaining to American amateur Frank Stranahan and England's Ken Bousfield how he would win the tournament. They are laughing, for good reason. Two-time defending champion Bobby Locke, who would finish tied-sixth, was undoubtedly the favourite. Cotton and 1947 winner Fred Daly were also among the 98-strong field. Not to mention that Faulkner had admitted to playing 'rubbish' golf prior to the event. There was a sense of conviction in his words though. 'I'll show them this time,' he told his wife, Joan. A fairly average opening round of 71 on Wednesday meant he started three shots adrift. But when his competitors faltered facing Thursday's windy conditions, Faulkner stood firm and carded a respectable 70, earning him a two-shot lead. The razor-thin putter had brought results, needing just 27 and 24 putts, respectively. The final 36 holes of the Open were played on the same day that year. He scored another 70 on Friday morning to increase his lead to six, over Argentinian Antonio Cerdá, thanks to a shot described by playing partner Stranahan as 'the greatest shot I've ever seen'. After a wayward drive on Babington's, then the par-four 16th (No 18 today), Faulkner found his ball next to a barbed-wire fence. 'I thought there was just a chance if I lifted the club up steeply enough to miss the stile, deliberately sliced the shot and lifted the club up immediately after impact to avoid tearing my hands on the barbed wire,' he wrote. Faulkner executed it just like he had imagined, hitting a ridiculous slice with his four-wood which found the green, to save par. The afternoon began with a sense of foreboding after he signed the young boy's ball and felt jitters from the 1st tee. Faulkner, whose lead had been significantly reduced by the time he reached the 18th, recalled: 'My knees were a bit shaky as I bent down and I had some trouble getting the ball on the tee.' Still, he smoked his final drive down the fairway and a crowd had gathered around his ball. This was a time before tournaments began roping off holes, when besides dealing with the pressure of the moment, golfers had to be mindful not to lose a shoe amid the encroaching spectators. Sign up to The Recap The best of our sports journalism from the past seven days and a heads-up on the weekend's action after newsletter promotion A marker stood over Faulkner's ball and cleared a space for his crucial approach shot. After pulling out his trusty four-wood, an old friend, Jimmy Adams, hissed loudly at him, trying to tell him he was overclubbing by some distance. There was no hiding behind overzealous marshals, desperately waving 'quiet please' paddles back and forth over their heads as if their lives depended on it. He shanked his approach, which fortuitously stayed in play after ricocheting off a spectator's chest, nestling in long grass on a slope. Miraculously, Faulkner found the green with a superb recovery shot and two-putted for bogey. He signed for a 74, but without giant scoreboards to indicate how his competitors were faring, he didn't know if it was enough. It took another hour before a messenger rushed forward with good news. 'Tony Cerdá's taken six. It's your Open.' Faulkner's 285 total at Portrush, the sixth-worst winning score since 1946, will most certainly not be enough to win there in 2025. But his confidence and fearless approach, on one of the toughest links courses, remain relevant 74 years later.
