There has always been a danger of Paul Lawrie being underappreciated. He was rightly and significantly wounded by his Open triumph of 1999 being widely recognised for Jean van de Velde’s blundering rather than his own brilliance. Lawrie’s intense commitment to grassroots golf in his native Aberdeenshire puts to shame those who pay lip service to charity foundations.
It may have taken until only recently for Lawrie’s career and contributions to the game to be properly acknowledged. When receiving a lifetime achievement award at a sports dinner in Glasgow, a visibly emotional Lawrie was lauded by Sir Alex Ferguson and Jack Nicklaus.
With the Open returning to Carnoustie this summer, memories of Lawrie’s triumph will again resonate. It was, and is, a remarkable story; Lawrie had been 10 from the lead when entering the final round, his subsequent 67 one of the finest rounds in major championship history in context of conditions and wider scoring.
“I was qualifying on the Sunday and Monday,” Lawrie says. “I didn’t want to book accommodation if I wasn’t going to play in the tournament. When I got in, the closest thing I could find was 40 minutes away so I thought I may as well stay at home. I drove my Subaru Impreza up and down the road every day. By Sunday the Claret Jug was in the back seat.”
If Lawrie is proud of that achievement there is more that sustains him. We chat in the golf centre which bears his name, an impressive and bustling venue on the outskirts of Aberdeen where he is very much front of house. In the summer, 60‑90 juniors take to the course every Sunday as part of a programme implemented by the Paul Lawrie Foundation.
“We started it off just as coaching for a few kids and now we have something that takes £250,000 a year to run,” the 49-year-old says. “If I’m home I come along and watch them play and do the prize-givings. People told me for a while I was too involved in it and should have worried more about my playing career but I always felt I could do both. It is easy to start something when you are 55 and not playing any more; it’s better to do it when you are playing, kids want to associate with you as a player. That’s far better than, ‘I have nothing else to do, let’s start a foundation.’”
In the winter, Lawrie can be found playing alongside young professionals – whom he mentors and supports – in district events. “There was an old boy in the clubhouse recently,” Lawrie says. “He said: ‘Why does he play? I can’t believe he plays in these things.’ The guy sitting next to him said: ‘Well, first prize is 150 quid?’ It was brilliant. He thought I was there for the voucher.”
Lawrie played his first European Tour event in 1992. He has featured in 606 of them now, and has seven “other” wins, 146 top-20s and 67 top-10s. If the measure of a Ryder Cup captain is commitment to the tour and an outstanding career, Lawrie is worthy of more attention than has been the case. His credentials stand up to close scrutiny against, for example, the 2014 captain, Paul McGinley, and the incumbent, Thomas Bjorn. Perhaps Lawrie has been slow to put forward what is a perfectly valid case.
“I feel as though 2020 is a good time for me to get it, depending on what happens with Thomas and vice-captains for France [2018]; if I’m not part of that then I’d have no intention of going for the captaincy in 2020,” Lawrie explains. “A lot of people will think, ‘He should get it’, and a lot of people will think, ‘He shouldn’t be near it’. Everyone is entitled to those opinions. I’m not absolutely desperate to be the Ryder Cup captain but if they thought I could do the job, I’d love to. Just now, it’s important that the whole tour is behind Thomas and his captaincy, it’s not about 2020.”
Lawrie is insightful and candid about the professional game, particularly with regards slow play. “The game takes too long, it is boring at times. I watch a lot of golf, I see a guy take three minutes to hit a 125-yard wedge shot that he knows about within five seconds of getting to his ball. The game needs to be quicker, there is no question.”
Lawrie regarded himself as a “terrible five handicap” when turning professional. “I hit a thousand balls a day because I wanted to be a golfer,” he says. “One of the first few weeks after I turned pro I was involved in a beat the pro competition at the club. I shot 84 round what is not a hard course.
“I came into work the next day and my boss took me aside. He said: ‘For your own good, you can’t be doing that. You need to start working hard; come in before work, use your lunch break to hit balls.’ It was the best thing that ever happened to me. But it’s different if you turn pro with a plus-five handicap and the Walker Cup behind you. There is an expectation that I never had; anything I got was going to be a bonus.”
The attitude has served Lawrie, and his sport, well.
