A small press centre during a weather delay at a golf tournament can be a bit like the waiting room of a doctor’s surgery. I was reminded of this on Sunday night as I surveyed the scene during the two-hour suspension of play at a soggy Senior Open.
With nervous tension hanging in the air, my golf writing colleagues and I sat slumped in our seats, twiddling our thumbs and mulling over the nuances of our very existence while the wearying silence was occasionally punctuated by creaking groans, resigned sighs, mumbled expletives and muffled squeaks of awkward, unexpected flatulence. All that was missing from this decidedly sombre spectacle was a whispering receptionist informing us that the proctologist was running a tad behind schedule.
