LUCK OF BIG GOLF

Timaru Herald, Volume CXLII, Issue 20503, 22 August 1936, Page 16

LUCK OF BIG GOLF

HONOURS DEPENDED ON FINAL LONG PUTT There have been great golfers who have never won the champion’s crown, notably Abe Mitchell, and one is glad that Alfred Padgham has captured the prize comparatively early in his career, without having to suffer years of waiting with all their uncertainty and anguish. Truly, he is a worthy champion. Never did a man enter a field embracing most of the world’s finest players, and come out of it with his supremacy so marked. Before a

ball was struck, one felt that Padgham was the leader of the game, and, though he has often played in more convincing, style, he showed qualities which placed him at the head of all his rivals.

Padgham achieved his success on the long Hoy lake course on the eve of his thirtieth birthday, and it is only five

or six years ago that he made a meteoric advance into the first-class rank. After his victory he recalled that a fortune-teller declared that

“1936 would be his most successful year.” It was a wonderful prophecy. His championship prize was only £lOO and a gold medal, but already this season he has won tournaments which have brought him in £1345. What his title will be worth is doubtful. A few years ago its value was not less than £5OOO. To-day, when the exhibition match has lost its appeal, I doubt whether it is more than half this sum. In the autumn, however, he is going with three other British players on a tour to South Africa, and by the end of the year he ought to be richer by at least £5OOO. Padgham’s victory is really the story of a putt. He did not know it at the time, but he won the championship by holing out on the last green at the 72nd hole from five yards. He, of course, realised that the situation was critical, with two or three players pressing hard on his heels. The hole must have looked a long way off and dreadfully small, but he struck the ball in a lion-hearted way. and down it went. This gave him a score of 287, his rounds being 73, 72, 71, 71. As he walked off the green to the cheers of ten thousand people, Padgham could only hope that his total would prove the best, but he had to wait for mon than an hour in the , clubhouse before he could H)e sure. There were three people who might beat him. One was Henry Cotton, the ( champion of two years ago. but, when one has to aim at a target, the task is specially difficult, and he took two strokes too many. Another dangerous rival was James Adams, a young Scotsman stationed at a club in London. He had to equal Padgham’s score of 71 to win, and he made a magnificent effort. Going to the last hole, which meant a dive and a pitch, he required a three to tie. He went boldly for the flag with his second, and his ball ran ten yards past. Everything depended on the putt. It

was a fine and brave shot. “It’s in,” the spectators, asthey saw the ball running straight for the hole. As a matter of fact it actually struck the back, but the putt was a little too strong, and the ball spun off the edge, and came to rest on the brink.

Another player in the running was Tom Green, but he finished rather weakly, and the only other player who threatened was the Frenchman, M. Dallemagne. He came with a brilliant spurt, returning 69, but even this superb score was two too many.