A Wet (and Wild) Open

The Valley of Sin under water, a shrewd winner and Ken Brown's laugh – Julian Tutt recounts a gripping week from St Andrews.

Zach Johnson earned his second Major title following his 2007 Masters triumph

The Good Lord finally smiled on St Andrews as The 144th Open Championship climaxed late on Monday evening, for only the second time in history, with a favoured son emerging as the unfancied champion. The bookies had predicted a Johnson win, they just got the wrong one. Dustin's attempt to overpower the Old Course unravelled spectacularly in the wind and rain, while Zach's shrewd understanding of what was required, allied with an outstanding short game, ultimately denied an Oosthuizen repeat or Spieth's elevation to Mount Olympus.

Of course, patience had been the key. It always is. So much rain fell in an hour on Friday morning that the Valley of Sin looked more like the local lido. For reasons one can only surmise, BBC commentator Ken Brown had travelled to Scotland with a bright yellow duck, which was actually more the size of a goose. Almost inevitably said duck went for a bath in the casual water while the excellent ground staff swept, hoovered and squeegeed all around. It will be an enduring image of a memorable Open. Having launched the duck, Ken then retired inside to sign numerous copies of his fascinating new book called One Putt. The punters were queuing round the block to meet "TV's best-loved golf analyst", as the book styles him, and to be treated to a close-up experience of his infamous laugh. Allow your aural sensors to run riot and imagine the sound of a hyena being ravaged by a sex-starved rhinoceros and you will start to appreciate the unique sound that wells up from the Brown lungs, like the Hong Kong Philharmonic swelling to a crescendo. As you breathe in hard allow your vocal chords to vibrate loudly and repeat rapidly. There was a time when this was a fairly rare sound, only experienced after not a few ales had been taken, but it's now become Ken's trademark and is unleashed on an unsuspecting public at the slightest opportunity. It's only slightly embarrassing when we commentators are gathered together for a quiet breakfast in the hotel and heads turn in shock and awe at this apparent simulation of a walrus giving birth to an oversized calf.

Ironically the roles were reversed this year. In 1999 Ken and I had been working together on course for BBC Radio. As we accompanied Jean Van de Velde to the 18th tee, Ken, thinking it was all over, excused himself from the fray in order to beat the rush out of Carnoustie, leaving yours truly to commentate on what turned out to be a riveting next hour or so. Whilst I was only feet from a clearly deranged Frenchman taking off his socks in contemplation of a shot that even Seve would have considered madness, Mr Brown was hurtling South in his treasured Mercedes drophead, listening to BBC Radio's coverage and wondering whether he shouldn't really do a quick u-turn. The lure of a nightcap with Mrs Brown won out, while I soldiered on manfully on a dank, dark, dreek, but ultimately exhilarating Angus evening.

This year, I had already told our producer that I had to leave at seven o'clock come hell or high water if I was to make it to Crans sur Sierre, for the Omega European Masters, the following day. I therefore also listened to the denouement of another play-off on BBC Radio, but there was never any question of my heading back. It did mean that I beat the rush to Edinburgh airport, so I was rather grateful to Messieurs Johnson, Leishman and Oosthuizen, if disappointed at leaving the job unfinished.

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