TIME FOR A part of my life, which, when it’s going well, I love to love, but when things go awry, like finding the bunker, I love to hate!
YES, GOLF.
I first learned to play way back when I was touring with Les Roy on the variety circuit. We were in Dundee, staying in some comfortable digs run by an elderly landlord, who did not approve of Les and me wasting our lives lying in bed half the day. What we needed, he repeatedly told us, was to play golf. Golf! I thought. That’s an old man’s game. He kept on and on at us, though, until eventually, just to shut him up, we agreed to have a game with him. He lent us some clubs and on a frosty Scottish morning, playing with red balls so we could see them on the white fairways, we played a round with our much older companion, and didn’t win a single hole.
It didn’t matter. Both Les and I had been well and truly bitten by the bug. We agreed later that just gripping a club had created a real sense in us of what golf was all about. We wanted more of that feeling. It surprised us, but we both knew we wanted to play. I’ve been trying to learn how ever since.
Now, I have so many golfing tales, all golfers do, that I couldn’t possibly fit them all in here. For now, here are just a few highlights.
ONE OF MY FAVOURITE playing partners was Eric Sykes. Whether Eric would say the same about me is open to question. Eric was a delightful, gentle man, genuinely funny. It was a pleasure to spend three or four hours with him on a golf course. As you can see in the following photograph of Eric, myself and Jimmy Tarbuck from 1969, Eric has a cigar in his mouth. He always played with a cigar.
He used to lay it down carefully on the grass before teeing off. If I was next up, I’d walk on to the tee and nine times out of ten I’d forget entirely about Eric’s cigar. I cannot tell you how many I ruined by piercing them with my spikes. This went on for years until eventually Eric had had enough. ‘From now on, Bruce, you are going to hold my cigar while I tee off. Have you any idea how much these cost?’
Many of my pals in the business played golf – Eric and Jimmy, of course, Kenny Lynch, Stanley Baker, Ronnie Carroll, Glen Mason and numerous others – but it was only when the BBC launched its Pro-Celebrity Golf series that I had the opportunity to partner some of the best players in the world.
THE SHOW WAS PRESENTED by Peter Alliss, who is a dear friend. We have spent many hours together in the nineteenth hole putting the world to rights and swapping stories.
Many people think of Peter purely in terms of commentating, but in fact he had a distinguished playing career, winning twenty-one professional tournaments and representing Britain in eight Ryder Cups. Long before we got to know each other, I used to travel to Wentworth or Sunningdale for big tournaments to watch him play. He was one of my favourite players, along with Dave Thomas, Neil Coles and Max Faulkner. Whenever I arrived at one of those tournaments I would check to see which one of those four players was the nearest on the course and rush off to watch them play.
Peter presented 140 Pro-Celebrity Golf programmes for the BBC during the seventies and eighties, pairing up the world’s best professionals with gifted amateurs (not necessarily gifted in golfing terms, you understand!). I took part in every series, over something like seventeen years. Two of the many great players I had the privilege of playing with were Lee Trevino and Seve Ballesteros.
IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING they were both brilliant golfers who wanted to win, but they also had a real sense of what the show was about – some mischief and a lot of fun. They would joke their way around the course, in Spanish naturally, but always explained what they were laughing about. They never excluded anyone and were a joy to be with.
It was not only the golfers who were at the top of their game in the Pro-Celebrity series. The ‘amateurs’ were all big names in their respective fields as well, with the likes of Christopher Lee, Terry Wogan, Ronnie Corbett, Henry Cooper, Kevin Keegan, Ian Botham, Bobby Charlton … The list could go on and on.
SEAN CONNERY WAS A regular on the show. Sean is a very keen golfer and a good one, thanks to Peter Alliss, so Peter likes to tell me. ‘Oh, yes, I gave young Sean a few tips on the set of Goldfinger. He hasn’t looked back since!’
Sean and I have known each other for many years. We have spent Christmas together and an awful lot of time on golf courses, particularly during the sixties and seventies. I see less of him, these days, as he doesn’t travel back to the UK as often. He’s always a fun guy to be around but is also a very tough competitor.
A number of years ago I was playing in a group with Sean on the East Course at Wentworth and on each of the first seven greens he left his putt short.
‘If I do that one more time …’ he muttered, as he stomped off to the eighth tee in quite a temper. The rest of us couldn’t wait to get to the next green to see what would happen. We were not disappointed.
Sure enough, Sean’s putt settled about three feet shy of the hole. I won’t repeat his next words, but after a number of expletives he took his putter and tried to break it across his thigh. Now, that is almost impossible, even for James Bond. All he achieved was a nasty welt on his leg. Undeterred he tried again, slowly bending the offending club until it eventually snapped. One half was then hurled into the rough to the right of the green, the other into the rough on the left. I don’t think the sounds of stifled laughter from his playing partners helped his mood as he was forced to putt with his two-iron for the remaining holes.
We had arranged to play again the following day, and as I was driving past the putting green just before our tee-time I saw Sean on the practice green, with seven different putters. I wound down my window. ‘Seven putters? Are we only playing seven holes today?’
I was glad I was in the car and able to make a swift getaway after that!
THIS PHOTO OF FORMULA One World Champion James Hunt on the opposite page reminds me of a great little story involving Peter Cook.
One year on the show James took his Alsatian dog along with him during his morning nine-hole match. In the afternoon Peter Cook was playing and when he walked on to the first tee he was carrying a goldfish in a bowl. Peter Alliss was naturally curious and asked what was going on.
‘Well, James Hunt had his dog Oscar with him this morning, so I’m bringing my pet goldfish Ginsberg with me this afternoon. He loves the panoramic views.’
Peter carried the goldfish bowl for the entire round, chatting away to Ginsberg as he walked the fairways and gently placing him on the grass before hitting his shots. It was a wonderful comedy routine that only Peter Cook could possibly have thought of.
STILL ON THE SUBJECT of ‘swinging with the stars’, Bing Crosby was another avid golfer with whom I had the pleasure of playing on a couple of occasions.
This is from September 1972, at the Southport & Ainsdale Golf Club in Lancashire, where Bing and I teamed up with Gary Player in front of a crowd of six thousand, for a pro-am charity match in aid of Cancer Relief.
I loved Bing Crosby as a singer and an actor, and I was thrilled to discover that day that he was also a very amiable man, with a delightful manner. He certainly did not play the ‘superstar’ in the least. Gary Player was much the same, a fantastic golfer and someone I admired greatly, but also very down-to-earth.
The three of us had such a laugh. On the first tee a group of fans were gathered around Bing, hoping for his autograph. ‘Just remember,’ I informed them, ‘you can trade two of his signatures for one of Frank Sinatra’s!’ Fortunately Bing found that very funny. We were the last group, and just before we teed off I turned to the huge crowd around us and said, ‘I don’t know who else is playing but I bet we’re the most famous!’ That got a huge roar.
Playing with Bing was like being present at a masterclass in how to entertain crowds. He was such a natural, full of unprompted stories about Bob Hope and funny quips. I remember sinking a long putt for a birdie at which point Bing took off his trademark hat and gave me an exaggerated low bow. That received a bigger cheer than my hole-winning stroke!
On another green we couldn’t decide who was furthest from the hole so we putted simultaneously. The gallery loved it. It was like that all the way around, Bing and I bouncing jokes off each other and enjoying ourselves thoroughly.
TAKE A LOOK AT this photograph. Yes, that really is the Burt Lancaster, with Cliff Michelmore on his right. Now, I wonder if you recognize the other guy (no, not me!). I suspect you won’t, but I guarantee you’ll have heard his name. I’ll come back to that in a moment.
It was taken in August 1976 at the King’s Course, Gleneagles, at a truly astonishing charity event organized by the Saints and Sinners Club of Scotland, in which a team of US celebrities took on a team of British stars. If I thought the turnout at Southport had been impressive, this was in a different league. I remember standing on the first tee and looking down the course. All I could see right up to the green were thousands of people lining both sides of the fairway. It was astonishing. Sunday Night at the London Palladium and Royal Variety Performances had nothing on this. All the players were nervous driving off that day.
It’s no surprise that so many people turned out for the event. Here’s just a taster of the line-ups: in the British corner we had the likes of Sean Connery, Jackie Stewart, Val Doonican, Henry Cooper, Max Bygraves and Jimmy Tarbuck, while the Americans featured Bing, Burt (I was now on first-name terms!), George C. Scott, Phil Harris, Robert Stack, Dick Martin and Jack Lemmon. I would definitely have travelled to see that match if I hadn’t been playing.
Back to the photograph. You can see I have a slightly bemused look on my face. The reason for that, I think, is because of the conversation I have just had with the chap on my right. It went something like this.
‘So let me get this straight. You are telling me that you hold the world record for the longest golf shot in history? Is that correct?’
‘Yes, Bruce. I’ve already told you.’
‘But I still don’t get it.’
‘Okay, I’ll go through it one more time. It is 1971, zero gravity, and I hit a golf ball off the surface of the moon with a six-iron. It’s probably still travelling today.’
‘Yes, I’ve got all that, Alan. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t use a driver!’
Yes, it was the astronaut Alan Shepard, the fifth man on the moon. What an honour to meet him.
The Saints and Sinners event took place on a Sunday, and was followed by a big reception and dinner in the evening. Very early the following morning one of the hotel porters stumbled across George C. Scott fast asleep in the hospitality room, still in his dinner suit. Tentatively the porter shook the Hollywood star awake.
‘Mr Scott. Mr Scott. Can I get you anything?’
‘Get me a cab,’ growled the star of Patton. ‘I’m going home.’
‘What about your clubs, Mr Scott?’
‘Burn ’em.’
THAT GEORGE C. SCOTT story reminds me of my dear friend Howard Keel.
Howard and I became friends during his many cabaret and concert performances in London during the seventies, and we remained close until his death a decade or so ago. He was a marvellous man.
Remember my year away from the UK, in 1979? Well, I spent part of that time in Los Angeles and before I arrived I called Howard to tell him I was coming. He was thrilled to hear from me but unfortunately he wasn’t going to be at home. He had committed himself to a summer show in the Hamptons.
‘Listen, Bruce, if you want to play golf while you’re here I can arrange a temporary membership at the Bel Air Club. I’m so sorry not to be joining you, but you can play there as often as you like. They’ll give you a bill every week and as long as you pay up on time you’ll have full access.’
It was so decent of Howard to sort that out for me. The Bel Air Country Club is one of the most exclusive in the world and I took full advantage, playing regularly with Sean Connery and the late Christopher Lee.
After the first nine holes at Bel Air you have to go to the clubhouse to reach the tenth tee. Now, the clubhouse is at the top of a cliff, and there’s an elevator to take you up there. To reach the elevator you have to pass through a tunnel that has been dug out of the cliff-face, and is lined with sharp, jagged, protruding rocks.
Howard had one last thing to say to me: ‘A word of warning, Bruce. I know you know George, and if you end up playing together, for God’s sake don’t get in a buggy with him. He drives through that tunnel like General Patton!’
WE ARE NOW INTO the twenty-first century and the All*Star Cup at Celtic Manor, Wales, in August 2006. This was a big televised event, featuring Europe versus the USA in a Ryder Cup format.
Just in case you can’t quite make out everyone, this is the line-up of the US team: Meat Loaf, Patrick Duffy, Todd Hamilton (captain), William Baldwin, Chazz Palminteri, Aidan Quinn, Michael Brandon, Richard Burgi, Jane Seymour, Michael Johnson, Richard Schiff.
And here’s Europe: Ruud Gullit, Jodie Kidd, Colin Montgomerie (captain), Damian Lewis, me, Chris Evans, Bradley Walsh, Ronan Keating, Ian Wright, James Nesbitt, Ross Kemp, Phil Tufnell.
I remember being asked on television whether I’d ever met Meat Loaf before. ‘Oh, yes,’ I replied. ‘I met him years ago. In fact, I knew Meat Loaf when he was just a sausage roll!’
That helped set the tone for an enjoyable match, but it was also very competitive. There were lots of nerves out there. I certainly wasn’t immune, but in that respect we comedians are lucky. If we mess up on a golf course we can often turn it into a joke. It’s much harder for a straight actor or non-comedic person to do that. They tend to bottle things up, which just adds to their nervousness.
See if you can guess who won.
BY THE WAY, I sank the winning putt! And won Shot of the Match, a five-wood from a bunker on to the green (I knew you’d want to know). Perhaps I was inspired to stamp my authority on the match by the sign one of my teammates attached to my buggy: ‘The Golf-father’!
As I draw this chapter to a close, for once in my life I’m going to give someone else the final say. Well, not someone exactly, but something. Why? Because I think it speaks for itself.
WHO AM I KIDDING? I always want the final say. Just so you don’t think this was a fluke, I thought I should explain that, even though I only have certified proof for this ace, in fact I’ve had four in my golfing career!
Now that’s the final word.