The young boy who never forgot a legend's hug

CADDIE’S ROLE: From both outside and inside the ropes, the great Spaniard always left a lasting impression, writes COLIN BYRNE…

CADDIE'S ROLE:From both outside and inside the ropes, the great Spaniard always left a lasting impression, writes COLIN BYRNE

THERE ARE not many moments I remember as a young boy growing up in Dublin as vividly as when Severiano Ballesteros put his arm around my little shoulders and said something harmless that made me feel awkward but privileged by having been touched by a very strong force.

I was a juvenile following the much-talked -about young Spanish prodigy who was playing a practice round at Portmarnock for the Irish Open in the late 1970s. My parents had brought me out to what was back then a huge sporting event in this country. It obviously made a deep impression upon me and perhaps even pushed me unwittingly towards the world I now inhabit.

A decade or so later I was to find myself standing once again beside the swashbuckling Spaniard on the same links-land on the north side of Dublin but in a very different capacity. I was then caddying in the Irish Open for David Feherty, who had been paired to play with Seve for the first two rounds.

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It was for me a defining moment. I had been beguiled by Ballesteros as a kid on a sun-baked links during my dreamy summer holidays. The great man had embraced me. When I was close to him in a more professional capacity everything changed. He had an American, Nick DePaul, caddying for him. For me this had added to the mystique. Nick used to catch Seve’s practice balls in a baseball mitt down the first fairway of the third nine at Portmarnock which doubled as a practice ground for the Irish Open; even cooler.

Observing a master at work from inside the ropes gave even a naïve young part-time caddie from Dublin a very different impression than the one he had harboured of the legend who had engaged him as a child. I became very aware that greatness was not a calm and tranquil place. Seve was in a rage that first day we were paired with him in Pormarnock and most of that dissatisfaction was directed at the closest punchbag on hand: his caddie.

I continued to caddie and Seve continued to turn European Golf into the force it now is in the world. Seve taught the Europeans that they could be as good as the Americans, he inspired them to assert themselves and made them feel like they could stand beside them as equals. His presence was overpowering and he assumed others should be able to fill their space as forcefully as he naturally did his.

I remember being with a player in the early 1990s and being mesmerised by Seve’s short game at the practice chipping green. The players engaged in a conversation about smoking and how difficult it was for my player to give up cigarettes. Seve was astonished he found it so difficult. He simply looked my player in the eye and said “If I want to do something I just do it and if I want to stop doing something I do this also.” For him it was that simple. Make your mind up what you want to do and just do it.

This makes all those impossible shots that we have seen “El Gran Senor” execute magically over the years seem more plausible knowing the man’s mindset.

My most abiding memory of Ballesteros was his matadorial display on the 18th green of the 1984 Open Championship at St Andrews when his final putt hung on the high lip of the hole, keeping the world in suspense until it finally dropped and the Spaniard won his second Claret Jug. He was dressed in his empowering navy blue and white Sunday outfit. He punched the air, he smiled, he delivered more body blows to the golfing gods of St Andrews in celebration of the victory.

For me it was a time to savour; Seve winning the Open with true passionate Iberian style in the home of golf. When he was questioned by his Spanish colleagues after the event about that particular putt he admitted he had hit the putt too softly. But, he added, he had willed the ball in the hole. He believed that he forced the ball to find the cup.

Such was the control a man from humble origins in northern Spain, believed he had over his own destiny, it is a wonder he didn’t win even more than his 91 professional events.

I will never forget his gait as he pounded down a fairway towards his ball, his black mane, slightly flattened by hair oil, leaping with every heavy stride, the fixated gaze of intent as he eyed up his next shot, his rejection of defeat no matter where his ball came to rest. His talent coupled with his dogged resolve made him the legend that he is.

There are people who take more than their fair share of space up in the world. They control their area, they command attention all without words. Severiano Ballesteros was such a being.

I recall seeing him stride across the main airport terminal towards a check-in desk in Majorca having won the event there in trail-blazing style. His head was held high, his face beamed with success as he cradled the trophy in his arm. The whole airport stopped to admire him stride across the concourse, mesmerised by a towering champion.

He played the right game, the game of the self, because it would be hard for such a strong character to survive in a team environment week by week. Many found that out in Ryder Cups, particularly at Valderrama where he was restrained on numerous occasions from telling his players how to play their shots during their matches.

Like all superstars he did not appeal to everyone, particularly in a sport where the individual rules and having a strong character is even more important than simply being talented.

The overwhelming power of Ballesteros is what I will always remember of the most charismatic golfer that I have witnessed playing the game he loved and adorned with his artistic flamboyance.

We have indeed lost the original European golf legend Severiano Ballesteros but he has found immortality in those Europeans who follow in his self- assured, intrepid footsteps.