Today, courses are designed by architects.

Millions of dollars are spent to

sculpt the landscape to fit these visions. However, the Old Course at St.
Andrews, called the Old Lady by some, naturally developed during its first five
hundred years. Nothing much was done until Old Tom Morris (considered the
game’s first ever greenskeeper) created the first green in 1865. The course has
112 bunkers, many of them deep or “pot” bunkers, originally formed by
grazing sheep that made these shelters to protect themselves from the wind.
St. Andrews began as a twenty-two-hole course, but the number of holes
was later reduced to eighteen. The change came about because in 1764 the
Society of St Andrews Golfers, which later became the Royal and Ancient Golf
Club (R&A) — the U.K.’s governing body of golf today — decided some of
the holes were too short. To correct this, they combined them, reducing the
course to eighteen holes. This is the standard number of holes for golf courses
built around the world since.
Unsurprisingly, there are a lot of great stories associated with this centuries-
old course.
Rabbits play the lead role in one of the best of these. The caretakers of St.
Andrews would have welcomed that loveable Looney Tunes character Elmer
Fudd, who proclaimed it was “wabbit season” whenever he went on the hunt
for Bugs Bunny, during what became known locally as the “rabbit wars.” In
1799, strapped for money, the St. Andrews town council sold the links to
rabbit breeders. The golfers were furious, as these varmints burrowed and made
holes all over the course. The golfers petitioned, like Fudd, to declare hunting
season. These “rabbit wars” lasted for sixteen years until a local landowner, who
was a golfer, bought the links back and said goodbye for good to these rascally
rabbits.
Today, the Old Course (the original links) has hosted the British Open
Championship a record twenty-nine times. The home of this golf mecca today
includes five other eighteen-hole courses. Collectively, they are known as St.
Andrews Links. It is the largest golf complex in all of Europe. The R&A World
Golf Museum is also on the property, opposite the clubhouse.
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Golf and gambling are a pair of friends as old as the sport.
Stories abound of early English kings and dukes wagering on all aspects of this
grand old game. Sam Snead, tied, at eighty-two, for the most professional golf
wins of all time with Tiger Woods, is quoted as once saying: “I tried to quit
gambling once, but it was about as much use as kicking a hog barefoot!”
In the early days of professional golf, players did not receive the exorbitant
sums they do today. (Since 2007, PGA Tour players have earned an average of
$1 million for putting a golf ball in a hole.) So, to augment their income, they
participated in private money matches — side games financed by local hustlers
for high stakes.
Back in the day, Tenison Park Golf Course in Dallas, Texas, was the haven
for golf hustlers. This muni (a public course owned by a local municipality) is
where one of the game’s most infamous hustlers, Titanic Thompson, held court
beginning in the early 1930s. Thompson (born Alvin Clarence Thomas) lived
to gamble. One of his former wives once told a reporter, “Gambling meant
more to him than food, sleep, or love.”
Titanic was more than just a gambler; he was a hustler. One of his
favourite grifts involved betting that he could drive a golf ball five hundred
yards. When a mark took him up on the bet, he led the group to a frozen lake
and pounded the ball across the ice.
One of his most famous games was against Byron Nelson — one of the
greatest golfers of all time. The “proposition” (his term for bet) was made by
three connected gentlemen. They offered to pay Titanic $3,000 to play an
eighteen-hole money match against Fort Worth’s best golfer. The money match
happened at Ridglea, another Texas public course. While it was kept hush-
hush — and not covered by the press — it attracted the most notorious
gamblers in the Dallas–Fort Worth area, all of whom wanted to get a piece of
the action. It became a piece of Lone Star State golf lore later recounted by
those that witnessed it. As is true with all such pieces of lore, the details vary
depending on who is telling the story. Thompson claimed that he shot 29 on
the back nine to beat Nelson and win $3,000. Nelson, on the other hand,
always maintained that he was the winner — he declared that the hustler lost
despite the fact that he had given him three shots. In the end, Nelson stated
that Titanic shot 71 to his 69.
Dick Martin was another of Tenison’s famed hustlers. Known as the King,
he held court from the 1940s until the 1970s, typically raking in $200 a day
from those foolish enough to take a bet. He knew how to spot a mark, knew
the course better than most, and regularly took these suckers' money happily.
In the process, he became a legend. As one scribe wrote in a 1987 feature in D
Magazine, aptly titled “The Hustler,” “Playing Dick Martin at Tenison Park
was like going one-on-one with Larry Bird at Boston Garden. Any way you
hooked or sliced it, you had virtually no chance to win.”
Modern golfers often enjoy some friendly competition, a.k.a. a wager, with
friends. For those with a bigger appetite for betting, there are now many golf-
specific gambles — as well as “skins” (a simple game within a foursome where
a skin is awarded to the player with the lowest score on each hole) and Nassau
bets (basically three bets in one: one for best score on the front nine, one for
best back nine, and one for overall score). There are other games, some with
funny names — like “bingo bango bongo” (three points given on each hole for
the following specific achievements: first on the green [bingo], closest to the
pin [bango] and first to hole out [bongo].
Care to make a wager with your friends the next time you tee off? Now,
you know the basics of gambling on the golf course and how betting and
hustling are intertwined with the sport.
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Addict (drugs, alcohol, and gambling), Diet Coke–swilling, and
chain-smoking John Daly won five tournaments on the PGA Tour (including a
pair of golf majors) in a more than thirty-year professional golf career and
added several more titles on various other tours on five different continents.
Along the way, he destroyed golf courses with his bombs off the tee. Daly also
destroyed hotel rooms and marriages. And he made mockeries of some golf
holes by putting up big numbers.
The man with the flowing blonde mullet won his first major in 1991 at
Crooked Stick in Carmel, Indiana. He initially did not qualify for the
tournament; he became the ninth alternate to get in when the other players
ahead of him did not take their spots for a variety of reasons. Fate smiled on
him, however, and the twenty-five-year-old PGA Tour rookie won, becoming
an overnight golf folk hero for the everyman. The tagline on the cover of Sports
Illustrated proclaimed this unexpected arrival eight days after his incredible
victory: “Long Shot: Big Hitter John Daly in a Big PGA Upset.”
 Daly was at home in Tennessee when Nick Price called to let him know he
was withdrawing from the tournament because his wife was about to give
birth; this bumped Daly into the first alternate position, allowing him to play.
With less than twenty-four hours until the opening round, he jumped into his
car and drove the eight hundred kilometres to Crooked Stick, ready to give it
the old college try, despite the fact that he’d had no practice and was living on
sleep deprivation.
The free-wheeling, blue-collar Daly — who during the tournament stayed
at a cheap motel and ate mostly McDonald’s — was already turning heads
during his inaugural season on the PGA Tour with his mammoth drives. (He
led the Tour in driving distance from 1991 to 1993 and also from 1995 to
2002). But as the old saying in the game goes, “Drive for show and putt for
dough.” The question for the long-ball hitter was, Did he have a complete
game to win on the Tour?
In his memoir, My Life in and out of the Rough, Daly admits that for years
his best friend was Jack Daniel’s — he often drank a fifth of a twenty-six-ounce
bottle a day in those days.
Daly shot 69 in the first round, three off the lead. The second round was
delayed when, the next day, a devastating lightning storm blew through the
area — and a golf fan was killed. After that tragic event, the game continued.
By the end of round two, in which he shot 67, Daly was eight under par and
leading the tournament. To celebrate, Daly high-fived some of the fans outside
the ropes, who were delirious with the blond bomber’s performance.
Heading to the weekend, Daly started slapping hands and giving guys
high-fives on every hole. The crowds swelled as word got around town of what
was happening at Crooked Stick. His fans were screaming stuff like, “Kill it,
Big John!” On Saturday night, the Indianapolis Colts owner Jim Irsay invited
the golfer to the team’s NFL game. Reflecting back on this experience, Daly
said he felt like the mayor of the city due to the reception he received when he
walked out on the field at halftime of that preseason football game.
On Sunday morning, Daly arrived at Crooked Stick with a three-shot lead
over Kenny Knox and Craig Stadler. Waiting for him before he teed off in that
final round was an unexpected handwritten note from his childhood hero: “Go