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Letter from St. Andrews: Wooden Performance

Appeared in March 2007 LINKS

It’s 9:55 a.m. at Craigielaw Golf Club, near the village of Aberlady, East Lothian (about three miles from Muirfield). My tee time is in five minutes and I have...

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Letter from St. Andrews: Caddie Mastery

Appeared in April 2007 LINKS

The seasons don’t change much in St. Andrews. Blessed with a temperate climate and cursed with a bleak landscape, the Auld Grey Toon sees little in the way of...

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Letter from St. Andrews: Playing the Percentages

Appeared in March 2004 LINKS

There’s something I’ll bet you haven’t been losing much sleep over. A couple months ago Tiger Woods turned 28—the same age Bobby Jones was in 1930, the year Jones won the...

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Letter from St. Andrews: Blessings of Eighth Place

Appeared in the Nov/Dec 2004 issue of LINKS

Two hundred yards or so behind the 18th green of the Old Course, on a broad street called the Scores, sits a sturdy stone townhouse with...

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Letter from St. Andrews: A Closed Open

Appeared in the July/August 2006 issue of LINKS

I’m not sure why—maybe I haven’t fully and truly expatriated, or maybe it’s just that I’m a congenital jackass—but I get uncommon pleasure from tweaking my...

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Letter from St. Andrews: Worst To Finish First

Appreared April 2005 LINKS

A year ago, when Phil Mickelson won the Masters, he lost something almost as significant—the title “best player never to win a major championship.” Lefty thereby joined the relieved...

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At Home in St Andrews

In 1983, George Peper hit a prodigious slice off the 18th tee of the Old Course at St. Andrews, onto the street that borders the hole. He never found the ball, but he discovered a home, buying a flat on the street after spotting a “For Sale” sign during his search. For 20 years, the Pepers were absentee owners, visiting intermittently during the summer and renting it out to University of St. Andrews students the rest of the year. READ MORE

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Letter from St. Andrews: Breakfast at Augusta

My own record of perfect attendance began in 1976. The last time I missed a Masters, Gerald Ford was president and Tiger Woods was an embryo. But this year, not only will I not be in Augusta, I won’t be anywhere near Augusta. I’ll be here in the Auld Grey Toon, and that makes my condition all the more gruesome.

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Miss America

"Dont you miss the U.S.?

Its a question I get asked frequently, and the answer is always no. Although my...

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Letter from St. Andrews: Shinnecockemamie

Appeared in May/June 2004 LINKS

It’s a cold, grey day in the old grey town, so my thoughts stray happily across the Pond toward posh, breezy Southampton, N.Y., to the Shinnecock Hills Golf Club...

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