Thank goodness all those attempts to ban the game of golf were ignored

THISYEAR marks the 555th anniversary of the first statute banning golf in Scotland. And what has been done about it? I’ll tell you: absolutely nothing. For you can still come across unrepentant sinners belting the wee ball down the fairways and thinking nothing of their responsibilities.

The auld Scots parliament – the ane afore this ane – came to the conclusion that the gowff was a completely unprofitable pursuit and interfered with archery practice and arms drill, so necessary if the English came over the Border again.

Many people still think that golf is a waste of time. But these are usually folk who have never hit the sweet spot with their 6-iron, landed the ball miraculously four inches from the pin and tried to pretend it was not a fluke. Such people do not understand the essential connection between golf and happy self-delusion.

Neither did the auld Scots legislators apparently. When their first edict of 1458 was ignored, they repeated it in 1471 and again in 1491. Nobody seemed to pay attention. Unprofitable? Hah! As a result of this sheer defiance, “golf tourism” is now estimated to be worth something like £250 million a year to the country’s economy and English people are welcomed instead of having arrows fired at them.

Americans too, even presidents, for several of these have been mildly addicted to the unprofitable pastime, including Dwight D Eisenhower. He apparently enjoyed a round thoroughly when he was in the White House but was asked afterwards if casting off that great responsibility had led to an improvement in his game.

Not really, he admitted mournfully. “A lot more people beat me now . . .”

Perhaps the reason why outbursts against golf were ignored in the 15th century was that successive Stuart monarchs liked to waste their time at the sport – Mary QoS, James II and Charles I. All of them are said to have played across Leith Links (although not as a foursome obviously) when staying at the Palace of Holyroodhouse.

In his “Traditions of Edinburgh” (published in the 19th century) Robert Chambers said that one of the problems of gowff in those distant times was that the game was “notorious for the time necessary in acquiring it”. In other words, a round could last forever through lost balls etc as golf links were left largely as nature made them. Imagine driving a ball into a hayfield.

On the positive side and quite luckily, the ball wouldn’t go far: a 15th century golf ball was simply fashioned by hand from a lump of wood and wouldn’t have been perfectly spherical. Also the links courses in Edinburgh seem to have stretched to only five holes and it wasn’t until the 18th century that the standard course was set at 18 holes. (At first, the St Andrews course had 22).

Another thing that could hold matters up when monarchs were involved was affairs of state. For example, bad news. The following annoying occurrence was reported by William Tytler, another Edinburgh historian:

While Charles I “was engaged in a party at golf on the green or Links of Leith, a letter was delivered into his hands, which gave him the first account of the insurrection and rebellion in Ireland; on reading which, he suddenly called for his coach and leaning on one his attendants and in great agitation, drove to the palace of Holyrood House, from whence next day he set out for London.”

From this we can make certain deductions:

(a) Charles wasn’t really a keen golfer, otherwise he would have finished his round.

(b) Charles was losing at the time and that particular Irish rebellion gave him a good excuse to save face.

(c) His sudden departure was a waste of time as the Irish declared their Free State anyway, a few centuries later.

There was a slight hiccup in golf tradition concerning James II, when Duke of York. He had a friendly argument with two English nobles who insisted that golf was as English a game as it was Scottish. The only way to settle the argument was to play a round at Leith and this was duly organised.

Craftily, James looked for the best golfer around as his partner – so a poor shoemaker called John Paterson found himself paired with the heir to the British throne. And, naturally, there was money staked on the result.

James and Paterson were easy winners. Paterson was given the money and was able to build himself a stylish house in the Canongate. Proving that whether or not golf is a waste of time, it doesn’t have to be unprofitable.