St Andrews (Old)

The applause came from onlookers on a balcony of the Old Course Hotel. 

Mrs W had just chipped in for an eagle! 

She was a foot away from repeating the feat on the 12th, but had to settle for a tap-in birdie.

Those two shots were the highlights of our round at St Andrews, but there were many more memorable moments.

Our game at the Home of Golf was arranged months previously through a Royal & Ancient club member. 

The evening before, Mrs W and I walked the storied links, soaking it all in, and I planned a strategy with every photo taken. 

By morning, I was hyped.

We fuelled up with breakfast in the Links clubhouse before stepping into the impressive, newly refurbished dressing rooms of the R&A. 

The audience was mercifully sparse around the first tee, yet the air felt thick with history. 

This was hallowed ground, and we were all more than a tad nervous after our starter gave us the green light. 

We needed almost the entire breadth of the 100-yard-wide fairway, but we got away without embarrassing ourselves. 

Mrs W's fabulous eagle on the second hole was the real springboard for the round.

Most drives at St Andrews need to go left to avoid the gorse and deep bunkers. 

I found, to my cost, that the massive crescent-shaped Cartgate bunker can thwart even the approaches. 

My ball came to rest inches from the revetted, near-vertical face, forcing me to hack it out sideways. 

As Tiger Woods will attest, bunker avoidance is key to success on The Old Course; he stayed clear of all 112 sand traps when he won The Open in 2000.

With that lesson in mind, I drove left on the par-five fifth, keeping clear of the pot bunkers known as Seven Sisters on the right.

My second shot landed short of the green’s giant sandy defenders, the Spectacles, and my third sailed over the deep swale guarding the front. 

I was close enough for a birdie putt, but happily settled for par.

However, as I discovered on the sixth, a well-struck shot isn't always met with good luck.

I played wide left to avoid the trouble on the right—more gorse and a fresh array of traps—only to watch my ball trundle towards an adjacent fairway. 

My unpleasant surprise was discovering it had filtered into one of the pot bunkers I never knew were there. Three shots later, the ball was still buried in the sand.

At this point, St Andrews hadn't completely captivated Mrs W, my Podcast Partner, or me.

One of us even suggested it wasn't a pretty course, as the vistas seemed less dramatic than other links we'd played. 

Yet, by the end, it had seeped so much into our bones that we were united in calling it a lifetime experience.

Mrs W’s chip-in was tremendous, but my love affair with the course began on the seventh.

This dogleg par-four demands a central drive before a big hit over the giant shell bunker 40 yards short of a two-tiered green.

Playing against the wind, I found the target in regulation. The putting surfaces are so vast and undulating that a three-putt was no surprise. 

Still, despite only making bogey, I felt a surge of confidence.

A flicker of excitement moved through me when my clip into the par-three eighth drew toward the flag. It finished 12 feet away, and I had to settle for par. 

My golden moment came on the 290-yard par-four ninth. I was pleased to miss the bunkers on the right and astonished to see the ball draw onto the green.

My eagle putt was disappointingly short, but I tapped in for a birdie.

After a refreshing break at the halfway hut, comedy took over on the par-four tenth.

A handsome drive was followed by a confident chip to what I thought was 15 feet from the flag. 

It transpired that I had been bamboozled by the geography and pitched toward the eighth’s pin, which shares an enormous green. Four putts later, I walked off with no Stableford points.

The cheek-by-jowl nature of St Andrews' holes can be disconcerting. 

Greens and fairways are often shared, and the par-three 11th crosses the seventh.

The handicap limit is a very generous 36, so shouts of ‘fore!’ are a frequent soundtrack.

After threading my tee shot between the treacherous bunkers into the 11th, I dreamed of a second birdie—one of golf’s most famous short holes. 

My ball rested 12 feet above the cup, but the downward slope was so steep that a mere tap sent it five feet past.

The 12th is remarkable. It's just over 300 yards, but four bunkers invisible from the tee lurk on the fairway. 

Mrs W avoided them and used the bank behind the green to guide her pitch toward the cup.  

The ball stopped just a foot from the flag, and she tapped in for birdie.

The 13th, 14th, and 15th are all superb holes, and I was on a bit of a roll, nabbing pars on all three and hoping for a glorious finale. As it happened, the light shone on others.

When I walked the 16th the evening before, I noted how difficult it seemed with the tight out-of-bounds on the right and the Parson's Nose bunkers in the middle of the fairway.

 I found one of the latter while our host and Podcast Partner scored admirable pars.

The Road Hole 17th is one of golf’s most televised, with the Old Course Hotel sign standing between the tee and the fairway. 

Podcast Partner and I bailed left, leaving ourselves with long approaches to a green defended by the famous bunker. 

Mrs W received more applause from hotel residents by launching her drive perfectly over the sign and down the middle. 

Our host hit the highest and widest ball I have ever seen—over the main part of the hotel and possibly into the Jiggers Inn pub!

His second shot went down the middle, and he later overdid his chip and had to play from the road.

Podcast Partner had his own travails in a bunker and needed a 61-yard putt to save a single Stableford point. 

The ball rolled up the fairway, around the green, and came to rest within a foot of the cup. Onlookers whooped and applauded, unaware that he had scored seven. 

Unnoticed amid the hubbub, I had a putt for par and missed by a whisker.

On the 18th, I was the invisible man in more ways than one. 

Podcast Partner hit a screamer over the path, to the appreciation of a decent-sized crowd. 

Our host faded his ball toward the fence between parked cars and the course; it stayed alive by two feet. 

Mrs W’s drive looked like it was heading for the cars but struck a post and flew back onto the fairway. My meek, safe tee shot was unremarkable by comparison.

As soon as we had played, a crowd of spectators made their way to the Swilcan Bridge for souvenir photos. 

We had to appeal to them to allow us to take our photos first so we could get on with the game. 

Mrs W’s approach was sublime; she reached the middle of the green and was greeted with a yelp of appreciation from a woman who turned out to be our Airbnb landlady. 

Podcast Partner struck a super chip and narrowly missed a birdie on this most well-known of all golf holes. 

My attempt for par dribbled short, but did not detract from the most special day.

The day ended as guests of our host in the legendary R&A clubhouse, where the sport's great names are celebrated.

St Andrews had delivered many times over.