Monty Bigger Than Ever

Colin Montgomerie calls it a homecoming.

He has been Europe’s top money winner for the last four seasons and is back among his own people on the shores of Royal Troon. They fully expect him to become Open champion by the end of this week.

He rather likes the idea too. Monty is the local hero at the club for this year’s championship on the west coast of Scotland and where he played as an amateur and his father James is still secretary.

What gives the Scottish professional’s loyal fans cause for hope this time is that he has just about run out of every other way of losing a major title, so it must be his turn.

The irony is that Montgomerie consistently plays like a champion but falls short of actually laying hands on a trophy. The near-misses in the U.S. Open and U.S. PGA Championship have been spectacular but collectively confirm his current status as the best player in the world not to have won a major.

What compounds the problem is that he is a supremely confident and controversial figure who makes headlines either playing or talking. He has a fiery temperament, which often gets the better of him but always makes good copy.

He is without question an accomplished performer and is currently fourth in the world rankings, yet he draws fascinated galleries as much for his likely tantrums as the promise of superlative play.

The Scots call it “throwing the teddy [bear] out of the pram,” and no body does it with more stylish petulance than Monty.

When he signed for an 80 in the last round of the 1996 Scottish Open at Carnoustie, the press were waiting for him.

He barked, “I’ve just about had enough of you” and retreated back into the scorer’s office, waited 10 minutes then reemerged saying, “Right, now let’s start again.”

He has an uncanny knack of slipping on his own banana skins.

For the final of the 1994 Scottish Open at Gleneagles, he wore a blue sweater bearing the Cross of St. Andrews motif across his chest. He lost and later was asked by a journalist, “Has that cross on your chest become a crucifix on your back?” Monty was not amused.

When he lost the 1994 U.S. Open to Ernie Els in a playoff, he announced solemnly, “I am now one of Europe’s Big Six.” It was a sweeping claim that he considered himself good enough to join Seve Ballesteros, Nick Faldo, Ian Woosnam, Sandy Lyle and Jose Maria Olazabal as a star attraction.

At the next European event, a note was pinned to his locker which declared, “Welcome to the real Big Six.” It was signed by a group of journeymen pros--all weighing more than 220 pounds. At the time, so did Montgomerie.

Only a week before the start of the Loch Lomond World Invitational, he told the press, “I have reached a position where people get worried when they see my name on the leaderboard. I am now the one other players don’t want to see in their rearview mirror.”

They would have needed to squint last week. He finished 10th.

This week, Tiger Woods will have to share top billing with Monty as far as the Scottish fans are concerned. It is 74 years since a home player won the Open at Troon.

Montgomerie says, “I don’t mind expectations on me. I always get great support when I come home to Scotland and especially as I am playing so well at the moment. But then I have never not played well because of pressure; I won’t start now.”

Careful, Monty. Watch out for those banana skins.