Just look at the view . . .
One of golf's many merits is the rich diversity of the surroundings in which it is played. Tennis players, footballers and other sports enthusiasts play on lots of different courts and pitches but most are pretty similar. By contrast, no two golf courses are the same. There are times when the view is so spectacular that it helps you to cope with playing badly.
I was reminded of this last week at St Enodoc in Cornwall. Having just been soundly beaten by my host I stood on the 17th tee and drank in the perfect harmony of man and nature apparent in every direction. Ahead was the green on which my ball landed a moment later. Beyond it the humps and hollows of the 18th fairway could be glimpsed. Behind, on a distant hillside, sheep grazed, while on the fields on the other side of the estuary the harvest was being gathered.
Below and to the right the tide was out, exposing a swathe of sand on which walkers and swimmers were enjoying the sunshine without disturbing the fishermen catching bass. No motor vehicle was in sight, unless the ferry plying sleepily between Padstow and Rock could be so described. Inspired by all this beauty I finished par-birdie, too late to save the money but in time to salvage a respectable score on my long overdue first visit to this heavenly spot.
There's a seasonal aspect to the best views. In September it's hard to beat the outlook from the Big Room at St Andrews during the Autumn Medal. After lunch, if it's one of those rare occasions when you've posted a half-decent score in the morning, seeing the flags blowing horizontally in a freshening wind as your fellow competitors set off down the first fairway can be positively delightful. Sitting there with a glass in hand, who would want to be anywhere else, even though the Scottish Executive has denied members the chance to enjoy a Hoyo de Monterrey cigar at the same time? In winter, comfort of a different sort is needed. Few sights are more reassuring on a chilly January afternoon than the yellow lights glowing in the Smoking Room at Royal St George's. Viewed from the 18th fairway these conjure an image of tea and hot buttered toast in front of a roaring log fire. Nursery food was always designed to temper hubris and provide solace for disappointment.
But in early August, when humble tribunes of the people are allowed a few days off from their labours at Westminster, there's another view to be savoured. This very Saturday morning I shall draw the curtains in a simply furnished first floor Scottish bedroom and look out on a truly memorable scene. Every hole on one of the world's fairest and most challenging links is visible from this window and green keepers are busy ensuring it is in perfect shape. A day of undiluted pleasure, courtesy of the generosity of members of the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers, beckons.
At Muirfield, if the golf is a struggle to begin with, there's always the chance that the view from the sixth tee of the Forth Bridge in one direction, the Fife coast across the water in another, and of rolling hills that are miles inland in a third, will raise your game. If it doesn't there's still the sunset to be appreciated through the west-facing dining room windows. What's more, the after-dinner speeches will be short, leaving time for a putting competition outside when the sounds of the music wafting over from the fair at the Gullane Games will be heard.
This weekend, on the day after the formal match is played, a relaxed but keenly contested game takes place between four of us who are staying in the club. Afterwards we will dissect the outcome as we dine alone in a little private room. Happily, the postwar restriction limiting those people staying in the club at weekends to only one bottle of whisky between them no longer applies.
Tomorrow afternoon this particular treat comes to an end with a leisurely lunch after a fifth and final round of golf. On the way home good shots, however scarce, will be recalled and bad ones, however numerous, forgotten. There will be smiles at the old friendships rekindled and new ones formed. No golf trip lasts for ever and although more are planned for later in the year they won't get any better than these three days at Muirfield. The closing lines of a Rupert Brooke poem will come to mind: "Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here."
高尔夫的场外因素
高
尔夫运动的诸多好处之一，是其运动环境的丰富多样性。网球、足球以及其它运动的爱好者会使用很多不同的场地，但大部分场地大同小异。相比之下，没有哪两个高尔夫球场是一模一样的。有时候，周边景色是如此引人入胜，以至于可以让你忘记球技不佳所带来的沮丧感。
美景高尔夫
上周，在康沃尔郡的圣伊诺多克高尔夫俱乐部打球时，我想到了这一点。刚刚败在主人手下的我，站在第17洞的发球处，体会到四面八方人与自然的完美和谐。前方，是我脚下的高尔夫球稍后即将抵达的绿地。更远处可以望见第18洞球道起伏的山丘与谷地。在身后远远的山坡上，羊群在吃草；在河口另一侧的田野上，庄稼正在收割。
往右下侧看，海潮已经退去，暴露出大片沙滩――散步和游泳的人们躺在上面享受阳光，却不至打扰钓鱼人的斩获。目光所到之处，看不到机动车辆，只有渡船在Padstow和Rock之间懒洋洋地定期往返。受到上述美景的熏陶，我实现了从“帕”（PAR，击球入洞的杆数与标准杆数相同）到“小鸟球”（Birdie，低于标准杆1杆）的进步――尽管胜利来得太晚，无法让我省钱，却让我对这一胜景迟到的首次拜访赢得了一个体面的分数。
再美的景色也有季节性因素。在9月份的秋季冠军赛(Autumn Medal)期间，从圣安德鲁斯的大包房(Big Room)望出去，景色几乎无与伦比。午饭后，如果你在早上打出了几杆相对不错的好球（这实在罕见），看到你的对手才从第一洞出发，球旗在清风下飘扬，真是一件快事。手拿一只杯子坐在那儿，哪怕不能抽一支奥约德蒙特雷牌(Hoyo de Monterrey)雪茄（苏格兰高管剥夺了俱乐部成员的吸烟机会），又有谁还想去别的什么地方呢？在冬季，人们需要另一种舒适感。比如，1月份的一个寒冷下午，几乎没什么风景能比皇家圣乔治球场吸烟室里璀璨的黄灯更能令人重振精神。从第18球道望去，这些灯光仿佛幻化出熊熊篝火前的香茶和热乎乎的黄油吐司面包的画面。营养食品总被设计来缓解骄傲情绪，安抚失望心情。
但在8月初，当“卑微的万民看护官们”得到几天假期，逃离威斯敏斯特宫（英国议会所在地）的工作室时，又是另一番景象。就在那个周六的早上，我将站在一楼装饰简洁的苏格兰风格卧室窗前，拉开窗帘，观看外面真正令人难忘的景色。作为全球最美丽也最具挑战性的高尔夫球场之一，这里的每一个洞，从这扇窗口都可以望见，而球场管理者正忙着使球洞保持完美形状。洋溢浓烈快乐的一天，以及爱丁堡球员荣誉团体(Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers)成员的慷慨大方和谦和有礼，全都充满了诱惑力。
在缪尔费尔德，如果高尔夫球赛是即将展开的一场艰苦搏击，那么往往存在这样的可能：从Forth Bridge第六球道的球钉处向一个方向望去，从对岸的Fife coast向另一个方向望去，以及从向内陆绵延数英里的起伏山丘向第三个方向望去，这些景色将激发你的比赛斗志。即便不然，从餐厅朝西窗口照进来的日落仍然引人赞叹。此外，餐后演讲会很简短，留出时间来抛开竞争，聆听Gullane球场上空飘荡的乐声。
友情高尔夫
这个周末，也就是正式比赛后的第二天，我们留在俱乐部的四个人进行了一场放松但激烈的比赛。之后将在一间私人小室里单独用餐，仔细分析比赛结果。令人高兴的是，周末留在俱乐部的人们只能喝一瓶威士忌的战后规定将不再管用。
明天下午，这次特别的愉快经历将在第五轮及最后一轮高尔夫球赛结束后，随着一顿轻松晚餐而告终。然而在回家路上，出色的那几杆球――尽管凤毛麟角，仍将被反复回味，而糟糕的表现――尽管数量众多，仍会被人遗忘。人们因为重新点燃的旧友情和新近结成的友谊而微笑。没有哪次高尔夫之旅可以永远延续，即使今年晚些时候还有更多赛事在筹划中，它们也不会比在缪尔费尔德的这三天更精彩了。我脑海中浮现鲁珀特?布鲁克(Rupert Brooke)的一首诗的结尾：“Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here。”（诗歌大意：我们向东，独自走向回家的方向，铭记着我爱过的那些日日夜夜。）
