Sport: Gallipoli Becomes Waterloo

Saddened but stubbornly loyal, 15,000 British golf fans turned out on the Lindrick course at Worksop, near Sheffield, last week to watch their Ryder Cup pros wind up what promised to be a Gallipoli of golf. After a devastating afternoon of Scotch Foursomes (in which partners alternate strokes on the same ball), Britain's best were behind 3 to 1. The visiting Americans were favored to breeze through all of the eight remaining singles matches.

While the gallery was still looking for the worst, Britain's Captain Dai Rees, of Wales, and his men started to read the Lindrick course as comfortably as if they were loafing through practice rounds at their home clubs. The U.S. team came apart under the pressure. The Americans needed no more than four matches. All they got was a tie from U.S. Open Champion Dick Mayer and a squeaking victory (2 and 1) from Illinois' Fred Hawkins.

Captain Jackie Burke Jr., P.G.A. Champ Lionel Hebert, Dow Finsterwald—one after another, the others of the American team took an embarrassing whipping.

Terrible-tempered Texan Tommy Bolt smoldered on a short fuse all afternoon. When the crowd cheered his missed putts he began to sputter; when they jeered a flubbed approach to the eighth green he exploded into club-throwing wrath. "It was demoralizing," Bolt complained later. "I thought these people were supposed to be sportsmen."

The rest of the U.S. team had no better alibis. "I think we overtrained," said Captain Burke (who, like all his men, swings a golf club for a living all year long). "We came here too soon and played ourselves out. Playing with the smaller British ball was also a mistake. I just don't know how you putt with that little ball."

"It's just like Waterloo!" shouted a gleeful spectator when the good news, 7 to 4 for Britain, was posted on the Scoreboard. For golfers, it was at least that. It took Wellington only four days to beat Napoleon. It had taken Britain 24 years to whip the United States for the Ryder Cup.