Memories of The 100th Open Championship 1971 — Royal Birkdale

By Hugh Lee

Every golf fan remembers their first Open. Mine was the ninety-eighth edition at Royal Lytham St Annes. I was nine years old and was enthralled with the colour and spectacle of the occasion. Witnessing Jacklin become the first home Open Champion in eighteen years seeded my love for golf and the Open Championship.

The story of my first Open, the start of my love affair, I will tell another day.

Father, in his wisdom and to my dismay, although attending the 1970 St Andrews Open himself, left me behind. 'I have customers to meet and business to discuss — this Open is not one for you.'

I still have not forgiven him.

I had, therefore, a long wait before attending my second Open at Royal Birkdale — 'The Hundredth' Open.

I consoled myself with the belief the 'Hundredth' was much more important than the Ninety Ninth.

In selecting Royal Birkdale I reasoned the R&A must have considered it a superior links and challenge to St Andrews.

My belief was cemented on discovering Royal Birkdale's wonderful oasis of natural links golf, built within and between the sweeping range of Southport's landmark sand hills.

I was hoping and expecting Jacklin to lead the home challenge. But the story of this Open was witnessing the brilliance of Lee Trevino and discovering a golfer from Taiwan who captured the hearts of the galleries. The man expected to win duly did, although not without an almighty scare from the player the public dubbed "Mr Lu."

Lu Liang-huan arrived as a little-known player to British audiences but became the galleries' favourite. His habit of tipping his blue 'pork-pie' style hat in acknowledgement of applause endeared him to spectators, earning him his affectionate nickname.

The galleries assumed his hat was a normal part of his usual golfing attire, but in reality Lu purchased the hat in Southport prior to the commencement of the championship. How the purchase of a sun hat could become a symbol of this championship is a reminder of the power of symbolism in sport. But it was more than the hat itself — it was how he doffed it towards the crowd when they applauded his shots. The galleries were enamoured with more than just the hat; it was Lu himself, his smile and the innocence he conveyed which captivated the galleries' hearts.

Trevino was just Trevino, pure charisma and drama underpinned by god-given talent, nous and application. Wise-cracking as ever he was for sure; deadly serious and in the zone over each and every shot he most certainly was.

But he had more than a golfing challenge that week from Mr Lu — he had a real battle to win the hearts of the galleries.

British golfing galleries were rightly acknowledged by the pros as the fairest of all. They knew a good shot when they saw one and sympathised when shots went astray.

During the closing stages Lu mounted a courageous final challenge, briefly threatening to overhaul Trevino, who secured victory by one stroke. A poignant moment came when Lu's approach to the final hole struck a spectator. He immediately rushed to check on her condition before regaining his composure to complete the hole.

The hat, his smile and courage secured Lu the hearts of the spectators squeezed around the 18th green.

Trevino secured the victory, and with it a rare golfing treble. Within the space of just twenty days he had secured the US, Canadian and Open titles — a feat without parallel in the game.

Lu and Trevino were the Open's Odd Couple, an unlikely pairing, different personalities and games, but who despite their contrasts combined to make the 100th Open so memorable.