VIEWPOINT

TOur TalEs & TruE

Grant Dodd
Of mice and men

he atmosphere in tournament locker rooms is rarely jovial come the starters gun. As a rule, most players use the space to collect their thoughts, finish their last-minute preparations and then head off to the range or first tee, depending upon the sequence of their pre-round routine. The witticisms and banter common of practice days give way to more focused, solitary behaviour. Someone you shared a round with a day prior may pass you without acknowledgement. Rarely is offence taken. The singularity of the existence is universal; in professional golf, everyone knows that there is no team in I. Sometimes, there is an opportunity to relax and watch television, as was the case before the second round of the 1998 Open Championship at Royal Birkdale. With a screen in the corner of the room, a few players had gathered to observe how some of the early groups were handling the challenges set down by the links. At the time I sat down, Colin Montgomerie was playing the second hole and had hit his approach shot into trouble to the right of the green. Up to his knees in drama, and exhibiting that patented version of indignation, Monty was making a series of aggressive practice swings in an attempt to work out if he could extract his ball from the entanglement. Violent swipe followed vicious hack. Grass and debris were sent skywards. Then from the silence, a cultured, stentorian voice came over the television. Oh dear, imagine being a little field mouse in there. Despite the occasion and the seriousness of intent among the watchers, few of us managed to resist a chuckle. The observation, though absurd
APRIL 2010

Peter Alliss remains the yardstick by which modern golf commentators are measured.

in nature, was uncannily appropriate at the time; the conceit succinctly capturing the moment. And of course, it could only have been uttered by one man. There are golf commentators, and then there is Peter Alliss. The most recognisable voice in the game has a style and perspective of his own, crafted from five decades of observing golf from the confines of the broadcast booth and an often overlooked playing career of note during which he competed in eight Ryder Cups and won 23 times in Europe. It was with no small amount of anticipation then that I crossed the Tasman in late January to share broadcast duties with the legend at the 2010 New Zealand Open. There are few times in a life when you are able to keep company with greatness. The chance

to learn and absorb some of the wealth of experience that Alliss brings to the booth was an opportunity not to be taken for granted. Working with someone new in broadcasting for the first time always means a period of adjustment. In this case, however, it was very small because we were rarely looking to cover the same ground, or in a similar style. The only pitfall was in possibly becoming so engrossed in your partners observations that you momentarily missed a cue. And it is in the use of the vehicle of observation that Alliss stands alone. Though approaching 80, his ability to recall days of yore and entwine them in the present was hardly septuagenarian. Pointedly, these memories became the fuel for expansive anecdotes of glories past that somehow never managed to venture into self-indulgence. If the art of great commentary lies in the capacity to paint pictures with words, then Alliss is golfs living Rembrandt. It was a memorable week in New Zealand, with the national championship blessed by perfect weather, a great finish and the presence of the doyen of golf broadcasters. Grant Dodd played in the 1997 and 1998 British Opens and is now a commentator for golf broadcasts on One and Ten. To ask Grant a question, visit http://grantdodd.blogspot.com
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Australian Golf Digest