Michael Hoey of Northern Ireland celebrates on the 18th green after winning The Alfred Dunhill Links Championship at The Old Course on October 2, 2011 in St Andrews, Scotland. (Photo by Andrew Redington/Getty Images)Andrew Redington/Getty Images
It's a gloomy Sunday in Toronto, but at least there's golf to watch. I'm sure some people are out in the cold rain, but I'm staying indoors. I watched Northern Ireland's Michael Hoey win the Dunhill Links at the Old Course in St. Andrews. It was his third European Tour win. He beat his fellow citizen and current U.S. Open champion Rory McIlroy, who went seven-under-par the first 11 holes of the final round but couldn't make another birdie. He finished second at 20-under-par, two shots behind Hoey.
I'm thinking about the Old Course. Of course I am. It's the most interesting course in the world. For this piece, I'll focus on the front of the 18th green. The appropriately named Valley of Sin is the reason behind one of the most fascinating pin positions in golf. The hole for the last round of the Dunhill Links was cut just behind the deep hollow cut out of, or into, the massive last green in front of the clubhouse that houses the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews. The hole itself is a short par-four that many or even most tour players can drive these days, or at least come up only a few yards short.
But that hollow. It appears only an innocuous piece of terrain, but every golfer has to deal with it when the hole is cut at the rim of the Valley of Sin. If the player needs a birdie, he might try to flop the ball up there and hope it sticks near the hole—but there's hardly any margin of error, and the shot isn't the right one. It's not a links shot, for one thing. Most golfers do elect to run the ball through the Valley of Sin if they hope to get near the hole.
McIlroy was playing ahead of Hoey, and he was a shot behind when he reached the last hole. He knew he needed to make a birdie to have any chance of getting into a playoff. McIlroy hit an ideal drive, and aimed his low-running shot right of the hole to take the slope. But he didn't have enough oomph on the shot—hey, it's a touch shot and yardage doesn't matter. It's all about feel.
Cruelly, the ball ran out of steam, took a hard left, reversed direction, and retreated dow the Valley of Sin. McIlroy went to his knees, knowing he'd missed the shot. He had about 30' through the hollow to the hole, and nearly did made his birdie putt.
Hoey came up a few minutes later and hit a similar shot that did have enough zip. His ball blew through the scoop and finished five feet short of the hole. He had two putts to win, but needed only one putt. His birdie putt went down and he'd won at the Old Course. He'd conquered his emotions—he'd missed a couple of shorts putts earlier in the round and had actually fallen behind McIlroy after taking a three-shot lead into the last round. He'd also conquered the Old Course and one of its oldest and most seminal problems: the Valley of Sin.
Here's what the late Tony Lema said after he won the 1965 Open Championship at the Old Course, when he chipped a 7-iron approach through the Valley of Sin on the last day to secure his win.
"Look," Lema said. "Do you want to know what I really feel about St. Andrews? I feel like I am back visiting an old grandmother. She's crotchety and eccentric but also elegant, and anyone who doesn't fall in love with her has no imagination."
Imagination, followed by proper execution of a shot all but lost in modern golf, is what a player needs to cope with the Valley of Sin when the hole is cut just behind it. McIlroy had the imagination but he didn't have the shot when it mattered.
Hoey had the imagination, and he also had the shot at the right time. His ball made it through the Valley of Sin, and he reached a Summit of Satisfaction—the reward for winning the Dunhill Links on its final day over the Old Course—Old, yet always invigorating and bewitching.