Alliss Dresses Up Basic Bland of Open Coverage

The British calendar features 11 months of gray clouds, gloomy skies, dark rain and regular brolly-toting visits to the neighborhood chemist for cold-medicine refills.

Then comes July, when things get really depressing.

July is when Britain welcomes the world to its tennis courts and its golf courses, brings out the cups and the plates and the old claret jug--all the best silverware--and then politely steps aside to watch the Croatians and the Americans and the Germans and the Aussies and the Czechs trash the place.

Wimbledon hasn’t had an English men’s singles champion since the 1930s. The British Open needed nothing short of human sacrifice--and thank you so much, Jean Van de Velde, for volunteering--in order for the golfing gods to sign off on a Scottish champion, Paul Lawrie, in 1999.

Other than that, the British Open has become an annual victory parade for the bloody Yanks. John Daly in ‘95, Tom Lehman in ‘96, Justin Leonard in ‘97, Mark O’Meara in ‘98, Tiger Woods in 2000 . . . and now, of all people, David (Previously 0 for 26 in Majors) Duval in 2001.

Making matters worse, Britain’s two greatest hopes, Colin Montgomerie of Scotland and Ian Woosnam of Wales, were thwarted at this Open in highly un-British style--Montgomerie by a lack of bulldog resolve, Woosnam by a lack of preparation that resulted in one too many clubs in his golf bag and a crippling two-stroke penalty in the final round.

But say this for the British at the British Open: By all means, you want to have one behind the commentator’s microphone.

As good as ABC’s coverage was--and no U.S. network has a better golf host than Mike Tirico--the proceedings gained a distinct lift whenever Peter Alliss of the BBC stopped by for a bit of guest commentary. With the Yanks on ABC’s broadcast roster, you often couldn’t tell one analyst from another. Who was that bantering with Aussie Ian Baker-Finch? Bob Rosburg? Or Steve-Curtis Strange-Melnyk?

Not so with Alliss, whose gravel voice reeks of Royal Lytham & St. Annes. Listening to him as a nervous contender lines up a putt, you immediately pick up on the significance at hand. You can feel the 130 years of history closing in around the golfer’s slumping shoulders, you can sense the tradition and the importance of the jug that awaits the eventual winner--without ABC reminding you at every other commercial break that the British Open championship is “golf’s greatest title.”

(Of course, ABC only says that because CBS holds the television rights to the Masters.)

With Tiger Woods essentially out of contention after Saturday, ABC shifted gears to the Duval story line Sunday: Can he finally do it? Can he finally shed the choker’s label? Is this, at last, the day the critics said would never come?

Alliss cut through the encroaching hyperbole to the quick when Duval took the lead on the sixth hole of the final round.

“Yes,” Alliss simply intoned. “Well done.

“Twenty-seven times he’s played in a major championship, still looking for his first victory. But his bank manager’s happy.”

Watching Duval proceed to the next hole, Alliss noted: “This could be the day for it. But there’s much work to be done yet.”

And, really, no need to say too much in the interim. An economical use of the language--it’s the British approach, and Americans would do well to learn from it.

As Montgomerie missed another short putt, mid-meltdown, Alliss sniffed, sighed and finally observed: “I don’t know what it is, but it just doesn’t seem to work for Colin.”

Alliss saw it all coming a good day earlier when he studied a close-up of Montgomerie and said: “He’s got that sort of glazed look again. Not a good omen.”

Alliss turned random, run-of-the-mill shots of the crowd into program highlights. Saturday, he narrated the movement of a husband and wife off in the distance, baby in stroller with two other youngsters in tow.

“Ah, the family unit,” he began mock wistfully. “How very lovely.”

Then, trying to imagine what Dad was thinking as he looked longingly over his shoulder toward the golf tournament:

“Why can’t the kids clear off to the beach? Go play with the donkeys and let me have a pint and a pie.”

The camera stayed on the young family, showing one of the kids grabbing a stick and whacking his father on the backside with it.

Deadpanned Alliss: “A little flagellation never hurt anyone.”

Another close-up in the crowd. Fat guy in undersized T-shirt and baseball cap, a real-life British cartoon caricature of the Ugly American.

Alliss: “Keep off the chips, Dad. ‘I’ll have a large vodka and a Diet Coke. Big Mac. Fries.’ ”

Sadly, ABC only had limited use of Alliss--about an hour a day, then it was back to the BBC, turning it over to the Yanks after Alliss had assessed the ever-meticulous Bernhard Langer thusly:

“There’s a famous series of small books you can buy, like ‘Famous Jewish Cricketers,’ and that sort of thing. I think Langer will have a small book on ‘Shots I Have Hit in Haste.’ It would only be half a page, and it might be blank. I’ve never seen him do anything without giving it 100% concentration.”

In keeping with the proper tone of the weekend, some economical advice for ABC and next year’s British Open:

Bring back Tirico.

(Job well done, lad.)

Keep the wind-gauge graphic.

(Quite useful, that.)

More Alliss.