Two Years in St. Andrews
At Home on the 18th Hole
Chapter One: The Slice of My Life
It was a ghastly, careening push-slice -- the mongrel of all golf shots -- that changed the course of my life. Okay, maybe that's a bit breathless, but there's no question that the banana ball I perpetrated on July 16, 1983, was the finest shot I've ever missed.
The scene was the 18th tee of the most famous golf course in the world, the Old Course at St. Andrews, Scotland. As the editor-in-chief of Golf Magazine, I'd been invited, along with half a dozen or so colleagues from other American golf publications and newspapers, on a pre-British Open boondoggle, courtesy of a man named Frank Sheridan.
Sheridan had purchased the Old Course Hotel, the modern five-story monster that looms inharmoniously over ... read full excerpt from Two Years in St. Andrews: At Home on the 18th Hole ebook