BRITISH OPEN : It’s Hard to Fault Faldo, but They’re Still Trying

You can understand their disappointment in Nick Faldo over here. After all, he hasn’t won a British Open in more than 11 months now.

Oh, and he also has lost one of the last three Masters, the filthy swine.

No wonder they tiptoe around Nick Faldo from London to Liverpool as if he’s a pool of liver. Thursday was Faldo’s 34th birthday, and he spent it shooting a 68 in the first round of the world’s oldest and most distinguished golf event. Then he ambled off the course right into a hail of questions about the morning’s World War III-sized headline that read: “FALDO BURNT OUT.”

Let’s see . . . he’s playing too much golf . . . no, he’s not playing enough . . . and he hasn’t been the same since those wrist and arm injuries . . . oh, and he’s gained something like 25 pounds . . . and it’s all solid, but now he’s muscle-bound . . . and Johnny Miller thinks Faldo has given up his standing as the No. 1 player in the world . . . and blah and blah and blah until a blasted blighter goes just about barmy.

Within 15 minutes, thoughts of British auto racing champion Nigel Mansell racing through his mind, Faldo found himself saying with a sigh: “I wish sometimes that I could put a crash helmet on.”

What precisely has this hale fellow done wrong? Why must Nick Faldo, Member of the British Empire, strike back?

Someday, the Queen might knight Nick, but instead of tapping him on the shoulder with the sword, she probably will run him through with it like the sheriff of Nottingham.

Been playing too much golf lately, there, Nick, lad?

“Three weeks ago, they said I wasn’t playing enough golf,” Faldo said. “Make up your mind.”

No anger. No venom in his voice. He’s grown accustomed to this place.

“I don’t understand this. I’m not ‘burnt out.’ ”

Gotten a bit muscle-bound, then, Nick, old bean?

“I don’t lift any weights,” Faldo said. “The heaviest thing I lift weighs five pounds. And I haven’t lifted anything at all since January. My arms still ache and I had to devise some training for these muscles. I haven’t gained that much weight. My legs and back just needed to be stronger. I did hard work in the winter to develop muscles for the prevention of injury. Now I’m much tauter on my midsection and my back feels great and I feel strong. I could run up all those hills out there (on the course). So now I’m supposedly muscle-bound?”

Well, that’s just what that American chap Johnny Miller suggested, there, Nick, old sock. That you’re in danger of doing what he once did after he won the British Open--inhibit his swing by becoming too muscular.

“I totally, totally disagree,” Faldo said. “If I remember correctly, Johnny Miller went out and bought himself a ranch. He went out there knocking fence posts into the ground. I’ve been in fitness training with a specialist. I haven’t been knocking on any fence posts.”

We interrupt the defendant for this reminder: Nick Faldo, the defending champion, has just begun the 120th British Open with a 68 . The rascal.

How about this business of you having given up your status as the world’s top golfer, there, Nick, old sport?

“I gave it up?” Faldo replied, biting his lip so as not to ask: When? “I’ve never given up anything in my life.”

No doubt somewhere there is someone who would disagree, who would say that Nick Faldo has, in his lifetime, perhaps even from birth, given up various necessities such as a personality, or a degree of charm, or a sense of humor. OK, so he is no Dudley Moore. Why should a golfer be penalized for being a little, well, shall we say, drab?

Faldo may well be the most accomplished Englishman since the dawn of sport. Who of his compatriots has been more successful? Roger Bannister? Daley Thompson? Bobby Charlton? Fred Perry? Harry Vardon? Who has been better known internationally? Virginia Wade? Tony Jacklin? Stirling Moss?

From a golfing standpoint, at least, writes John Hopkins of the Financial Times: “Ask any golfer to name Britain’s most successful player these past 90 years and I think we can assume the vast majority will answer: ‘Nick Faldo.’ ”

And golf over here is, if not the national pastime, definitely in the top two.

So why does Nick Faldo sometimes feel like defending himself with a club?

“I don’t know. You’re built up into a superstar, and then about the best you can do is stay with (by) yourself,” Faldo said wearily after Thursday’s play. “You put up walls around yourself. You don’t want to. You have to.”

And just wait until his golf game gets even worse. Today, he will probably only shoot 69.