WHEN Graeme McDowell first inhaled the unfettered air that circulates at the top of an Open leaderboard, at Hoylake two years ago, it was a joyous experience.
A 66 on the opening day, home expectations raised, a breakthrough in the making. It was not to last. A 73 on day two, 79 on day four – a major disappointment in every sense.
A week shy of his 29th birthday, the Northern Irishman cuts a more resili
ent figure these days. Although he missed the cut at Carnoustie a year ago, McDowell has thrown himself into the gusts of Royal Birkdale with no fear, another share of the opening-round lead continuing where he had left off four days before, at Loch Lomond, where the Scottish Open title was collected with no fuss.
That, teamed with prior endeavours, has left him on the cusp of Ryder Cup selection. Yet it's the biggies that count, and beginning yesterday in a share of fourth place, there were ambitions to make Moving Day his day. "A bowl of confidence," was what he claimed was his breakfast dish of choice. "Plus a plate of low numbers."
After the first hole yesterday, perhaps he was pondering the benefits of an extra Shredded Wheat. A decent tee shot on to the fairway but a chip too far. Three putts, a double bogey – not the best of starts. There was further calamity at the third when McDowell picked out the rough. His playing partner, Jim Furyk, almost chipped in from short of the green, collective breath held as ball approached cup. The American collected his third successive par while the former Walker Cup star could only groan as another short putt evaded its target.
The greens, he was finding, were hard to read. Only lightly trimmed, according to the R&A, in a bid to thwart the 40mph gusts that at one point threatened a hiatus in play, they did McDowell no favours. While Furyk bogeyed the fourth when his putt peered into the hole before whistling by, the presumed leading British challenger was frustrated.
Raised in Portrush, on the coast, ignoring the gales should be second nature – but not here, not for a while at least. Only on the fifth, when he glided ball over green from 20 yards, did the levity return. Spectators were impressed. "C'mon big man," cried a member of the Norn Iron golfing society, sporting a nifty combo of a pinny and the kind of See You Jimmy hat which passes for tourist merchandise on the Irish Sea ferries.
This was not a time to take risks. As all 625 yards of the par-5 sixth stretched before the twosome, this – in less inclement times – would invite a fulsome drive. They did what they could but both found the rough. Furyk, bogged down in the thick stuff, opted to nudge towards safety. His rival, afforded more scope, duly attacked. On the cusp of a bunker, subsequently, his chip was immaculate. Yet again his shortest club let him down, Furyk much the steadier.
The 2003 US Open champion cuts an austere figure on the course, all skin and bones propping up his rugged visage. Maximum effort, minimal emotion unless justified. The stoicism cracked, and rightly so, with birdies at the eighth and ninth which took him to the turn in 34 and into a share of the lead.
Furyk's distinctive swing and cross-handed putting, instilled by his father Mike, might not be the prettiest but it is effective, despite the proclamations of unease at his stroke this week. Plus, he likes the UK's west coast. The four-time Ryder Cup player tied for fourth here in 1998, again down the road two years ago at Hoylake, and also at Troon in 1997.
As the sun disappeared and the breeze blew with increasing gusto, McDowell toiled. Another straightforward putt refused to bend to his wishes on the ninth, a further bogey, four over at the turn. While proceedings were delayed by Fredrick Jacobson, both men could take their time to reflect. Furyk's sitting nicely on two over. For McDowell, however, the stutter with the putter was threatening to pollute his bid to take a major step forward.
The full article contains 707 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
