The weird world of golf fanatics
Daniel Schofield is given an induction into the Steve Stricker Society and the tribe of ‘Beeeeef’
Over the next four days, the allegiances of the patrons of the Royal Birkdale will shift more than the sand dunes of the adjacent Sefton coast. Loyalties can be formed and forgotten in the space of an afternoon and a few pints of Stella Artois.
Outside a Ryder Cup environment, golf is unique among mainstream sports for its lack of tribalism – and is all the richer for it. Imagine, for instance, an Old Firm derby where 90 per cent of the crowd arrive at kick-off without any preconceptions, attaching their allegiance on the basis of which team’s style of play or particular player’s haircut takes their fancy. Of course there will be a strong undercurrent of support for Southport’s own Tommy Fleetwood ending the 25-year wait for an English winner, but that will not be to the exclusion of the remaining 155 players.
There are, however, a certain band of fans who have travelled with the express purpose of following a particular player over the course of 72 holes. For some this process is repeated over the four majors as well as a number of other leading tournaments.
Size of following is not necessarily defined by talent. On the Tuesday afternoon practice round, Dustin Johnson and Bubba Watson, combined winners of three majors and 24 PGA tour events, are strolling purposefully down the third trailed by a dozen or so spectators. Across the fairway, a deep drone is carried across the wind from the first where at least a couple of hundred fans have gathered around the last player to tee off.
Who is the gold-plated boxoffice attraction that has diverted attention from the world No1? The answer comes when the cry of “Beeeeef ” becomes discernible. Andrew Johnston is both an unlikely and entirely logical fan magnet. With his non-too subtle protruding gut and a beard that Old Tom Morris would have considered unkempt, Johnston is about as far from the prototype of the muscle-bound, unsmiling sluggers that largely populate the tour. Therein lies the appeal of the world No11 who has won just one European tour event.
“Just look at him,” Jason Evans, a builder from the Wirral, says. “There’s no one else like him out there. You can tell he likes a beer, he likes a laugh. You can relate to that. It is like following one of your mates.”
If you place Johnston at one end of the scale in terms of idiosyncratic individuality then Steve Stricker would fall towards the other, if he registered at all.
The 50-year-old American is not readily associated with flamboyance or fireworks, yet he, too, has his devotees.
The Steve Stricker Society is a close-knit club formed during the midst of a stag-do in Las Vegas two years ago by Ian Findlay, a winter sports commentator. Membership is so exclusive that the members of Muirfield would consider it slightly prohibitive. “Currently there are only three of us, but we do have a Twitter account with six followers,” Findlay said. Honorary day memberships can be granted on condition of worshipping at the Church of Stricker.
Since the Steve Stricker Society was launched, the Great Man has enjoyed his best ever finish at a major – last year’s eighth place at the Open – and has just come fifth at the John Deere Classic after a final round of 64. “I’ll let you decide if that’s a coincidence,” Findlay deadpanned. So where does the appeal lie in following a man whose middle names might well be grafting grinder? “I think there’s a certain charm in watching someone who is just very consistent,” Findlay said. “There’s
‘We are looking forward to seeing mother nature’s wrath. We want to see some real golf ’
nothing wrong in being steady. We will continue to spread the word about the good work he does.”
Even the devotion of Stricker’s disciples pales in comparison with that of the followers of Japan’s Hideki Matsuyama. The world No2 is bidding to become only the second man from Asia to win a major (curiously, Asian women have claimed 21 of the last 35 majors). If the pangs of excitement that greeted his each and every stroke on a practice round is anything to go by then Lord knows the level of ecstasy that would be unleashed by Matsuyama claiming the Claret Jug on Sunday. Establishing quite how much they spend following Matsuyama around the world proves a tricky process, but Manaka from Tokyo confirms it is “a lot”.
Then there are others who have travelled great distances not to watch a particular player, but to see what carnage the high winds and thick scrub will inflict upon golfers whose egos can go months without being pricked. “We are just looking forward to seeing Mother Nature’s wrath,” said Bruce Cook, one of three brothers from Canada. “We play on the wussy North American courses where there’s no real rough and the ball sticks when it hits the green. We want to see some real golf.”