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C'mon, Monty, enough is enough
ST ANDREWS, SCOTLAND -- Pronounce it "Sanandrews", as they do in these parts. Give it its due. For if the game of golf was not invented here, as it surely was not, it was given its present form and much of its mystery over this forlorn stretch of Scottish coastline. Pronounce it Sanandrews and call it simply The Open, as though we didn't have another version just a month ago in America. It might seem slightly smug of them here to assume there is no other Open in the world but it's more having been first, when you are allowed to call it whatever you wish. And so that tournament we witnessed a month ago on the American left coast was the U.S. version. Imagine what they'd say here if we presumed the same privilege. Why, it would confuse even us. "The Open?" we would ask, "which Open? U.S., British, tennis, golf?" But they have no such problem here. The players themselves come here as to a shrine, a working museum. Whether they like the course or not -- and it can be a bland, murderous, easy, devious offering, depending entirely on the gods -- they will almost all come in awe. Even near-locals like Colin Montgomerie, to whom this place must seem like an old and familiar backyard. "Aargh, to win at the Old Course, well," and he lets his wonderful lilting brogue trail off, the ending understood. To win a major championship anywhere, for Montgomerie, is becoming critical, for his resume is desperately incomplete. But to win in his homeland, on this magical plot, might even bring a smile to the veteran's face. He has played just about every mind game he can over the years, to try and convince himself, way down deep where it matters the most, that he can actually do this. He has lost weight. He has protested that it matters little in the long run. He has put it as his Holy Grail. And thus far, none of it has worked a bit. His record, especially in The Open, is humbling. He even collapsed badly at his own home course, Royal Troon, where his own father was club secretary, a few years back. What can possibly work? He has won seven European Orders of Merit in a row, the European Tour's MVP. He has manhandled all who've ventured into his path on this side of the Atlantic. On the other, zilch. Not even a Dubuque Bank and Trust Pro-Am Classic. When he left the American Open last month, another disappointment safely tucked away, he went straight to Houston where he spent his college years and worked on his game with his old coach. "I've got the irons straight now," he proclaimed upon leaving, "which were letting me down so badly. And I believe now I am on the verge." Of what, we are never quite certain with him. But if anyone deserves to win this championship -- and deserving is rarely a prerequisite, I know, but occasionally you feel enough is just enough -- Colin Montgomerie does. Here. This week. At Sanandrews. I would love to see it happen.
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