Remember the Boy Scout Law? “A scout is
trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful,
thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.”
I must confess, I was a lousy scout. Despite a
long, mind-numbing stint with my local troop, I never made it past Second
Class (about a dozen ranks below Eagle) and my only merit badges came in “Dog
Care” and “Theatre.” As to those 12 essential virtues, “cheerful” and “clean”
were about all I could muster, and rarely on the same day.
Still, the cadence of that Boy Scout Law imprinted
itself on my prepubescent brain, every bit as indelibly as “You’ll wonder where
the yellow went,” “Nothin’ says lovin’ like somethin’ from the oven” and “You
get a lot to like with a Marlboro.” And recently it has begun to resonate in a
whole new way.
You see, I’ve spent most of a year observing my
Scottish brethren, and I’ve found they are not like you and me. Indeed, they
seem to live according to an entirely different code—a Boy Scot’s Law, if you
will: “A Scot is truss-worthy, florid, watchful, frosty, courteous, quick,
diabetic, thrifty, drab, lean and beverant.” Allow me to
explain.
Truss-worthy: Let’s face it, the Scots are manly
men, secure in their masculinity. How else to explain a male populace that
delights in parading around in plaid knee-length skirts?
Florid: My research has revealed that 87 percent of
Scotsmen have alarmingly ruddy complexions. I’m not sure whether the primary
cause of this condition is sun, wind, booze or rage, but I have definitely
eliminated embarrassment.
Watchful: These guys never carry scorecards but
they know at all times where things stand. At the end of a match, they can
recall every shot played by everyone in the match. As someone who may be
suffering from incipient Alzheimer’s, I find this attribute both helpful and
annoying.
Frosty: Scotsmen are known for their dour
demeanors, but if they would simply utter the phrase “that’s good” more often,
there would be smiles all around. I have statistics to prove that the average
conceded putt on this side of the Atlantic is 8.67 inches shorter than in the
U.S. And that includes dozens of
four-footers magnanimously granted by yours truly in the naive hope of
reciprocation.
Courteous: This is the first of two qualities on
which Scots and scouts intersect. Never, on the 18th green, does a Scotsman fail
to remove his tweed cap, look you in the eye and say “good fun” or something
equally courtly. Also, when you trip over your putter and stumble headfirst into
the chest of a Scotsman, knocking him haplessly into a cavernous greenside
bunker, he immediately looks up at you through sand-encrusted spectacles and
says, “Sorry.” (Although, I must admit, that might have been an Englishman.)
Quick: The Scottish golfer’s most endearing trait
is unquestionably his fast pace of play. Rarely since I’ve been here has a round
taken more than four hours—even on a Saturday at the Old Course—and several
rounds (with four players in the group, mind you) have taken less than
three-and-a-half. Play slows down only when a foursome of those execrable
Americans gets in front of us.
Diabetic: With apologies to those who suffer from
this disease, I was looking for a four-syllable word that means “so hopelessly
addicted to sugar that your teeth rot out by the age of 25.” Look in the pocket
of a Scotsman’s golf bag and you’ll find three Mars bars and a 16-ounce bottle
of Lucozade, a “sparkling glucose drink” that comes in sprightly colors and can
be simulated at home by mixing an ounce of club soda with 15 ounces of Aunt
Jemima syrup.
Thrifty: There’s a story about the four Scottish
brothers who grow up playing golf together. One goes to America to seek
his fortune, then returns a decade later. “Well, lads, let’s go out for 18,” he
says to his brothers. “Oh, we don’t play anymore,” says one of them. “Asked why
not, the three reply in unison: “You took the bloody tee!” Yes, they’re thrifty
here. Last week, in need of a ballmark, I borrowed a one-pence coin from one of
my companions. As we left the 18th he immediately asked for the coin back. I’m
only surprised he didn’t try to charge interest on the loan.
Drab: This being the Auld Grey Toon, inhabitants
dress accordingly—as if they were attending a perpetual funeral. Locals turn out
in monochromatic outfits of black, gray or navy; khakis and brighter colors
generally identify the visiting Yanks. Corduroy and tweed are the fabrics of
choice among the old guard, but 1970s-style polyester is bewilderingly popular
in this land where sheep outnumber men.
Lean: Despite their predilection for sweets, the
Scots—or at least Scottish golfers—are a remarkably trim group. Back home, most
of my golf pals had gelatinous guts, but over here that’s not the case. I
suspect it has something to do with the absence of motorized carts.
Beverant: I’ve coined a word here, but hey, it
works. Beverant (adj.) describes the Scotsman’s near-religious passion for
alcohol. One reason these guys play so fast is to allow more time for post-round
drinking. Besides, alcohol had a direct influence on the establishment of 18 as
the number of holes in a regulation round of golf. As the story goes, a pair of
St. Andrews gentlemen set off on the links,
taking with them a full bottle of whisky. After each hole they took one swig
apiece from the bottle. When after the 18th hole, the bottle was dry, they could
see no reason to continue playing, and so retired to the pub.
And that’s the truth.
Scot’s honor.
