This unhappy marriage between golf and celebrities deserves a divorce

Adoring fans of film stars and the like love the concept, but to golf purists it is an exercise in silliness

Gavin Newsham , The Guardian, 5 October 2006

Today marks the first round of the most ridiculous tournament in professional golf: the Dunhill Links Championship. Played over three courses (Carnoustie, Kingsbarns and the Old Course, St Andrews), it stands alone on the European Tour schedule not merely for the size of its purse - $5m (£2.65m) this year - but for the fact that the promoters make the players really work for it. How? By pairing them with "celebrities".

It is not a happy marriage. At last year's event, the eventual winner Colin Montgomerie played his final round on the Old Course with the Hollywood actor Michael Douglas. As Montgomerie vied for the lead with Kenneth Ferrie, he had to stand by as the Fatal Attraction star displayed all the grace of a lumberjack working overtime and failed to complete a single hole on the back nine.

To his credit, Douglas soon realised he was out of his depth and did his best to allow Monty to get on with the job, but the fact that the Scot had Mr Zeta-Jones in tow proved to be as frustrating as dragging a toddler round the shops on a Saturday. As a result, Monty asked for the format to be changed this year. Dunhill, who put up the first prize of $800,000, said no. Which is why Monty, despite his aversion to the concept, will be teeing up today alongside . . . Michael Douglas.

Ignore the TV smiles, there's nothing professional golfers hate more than a pro-celebrity event. It's one thing enduring a five-hour pro-am pairing with a competition winner and a car dealer from Hull, another thing entirely having to share four long rounds of small talk with the former US vice-president Dan Quayle or applaud as JP McManus thins another approach 50 yards through the green. If you believe the hype, though, the Dunhill Links should be the perfect sports event, offering quality golf on one hand while also satisfying the Heat generation's hunger for all things celebrity. Celebrities plus golf equals cool, right? Wrong. Celebrities plus golf equals torture.

But in an age when every name from Robbie Williams to the Wu-Tang Clan profess their love for the game, the fact that there is a pro-celebrity tournament on the European Tour schedule should not come as a surprise. It would not happen in football, of course, or cricket or tennis, but that is golf for you.

Look at the Ryder Cup. You could not move for the armies of presidents and pop stars stalking the fairways at the K Club. In fact, it has now got so ridiculous that the NBA legend turned Ryder Cup regular Michael Jordan is being touted as a vice-captain for the next contest at Valhalla in 2008. My advice to the Americans, for what it is worth, is go for it - it cannot get any worse. And while you are at it, rope in Colin Powell, David Copperfield and Donald Trump as well. Just as long no one objects to Nick Faldo enlisting Peter Crouch as one of his deputies.

To be honest, it is getting a little grating to see quite so many celebrity bandwagon-jumpers alighting at the 1st tee. It is the same as when I used to like REM. I say "used to" because I had bought all the IRS albums, from Murmur right up to Document, but then they signed for Warner, took over the world and everybody (including my mum) loved them. Everybody, that is, apart from me.

Golf has gone the same way. I interviewed Ronan Keating recently, not about his music but about his love of golf. He told me that when he was a member of Boyzone he had to keep schtum about his fascination with the game, in much the same way mentioning a girlfriend may have been catastrophic for the group's image. "It was never really cool, you know," he said. Today, though, being a celebrity golfer is a badge of honour, a prerequisite to gaining acceptance and recognition in the world of showbusiness - in other words, getting in with Ant and Dec.

And that is precisely why TV's golden boys launched their All*Star Cup competition last year, which, for the uninitiated (and clearly un-hip), is a kind of Ryder Cup for "celebrity" golfers. While the event graduated from Sky One to ITV1 this year, it was clear the programme's bookers had their work cut out trying to assemble two teams worthy of the All*Star label. Last year, for example, they had Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones. This year, they had Bradley Walsh and one of the Baldwin brothers (Alec? William? Mike?). Even the ironic selection of Bruce "The Golf Father" Forsyth backfired when he proved that, at 78 years old, he could still play the game better than any of the new breed of celebrity golfers.

And yet, as Jodie Kidd, Chris Evans and DJ Spoony (not his real name) become the new faces of British celebrity golf, Brucie's old cohorts in the vanguard of the original, Peter Alliss-led pro-celebrity revolution of the 1970s are left out in the cold, cleaning their spikes and thinking of yesterday. Tarby can't get a game, Russ Abbott's hitting balls aimlessly down on the range, and Kenny Lynch is still awaiting that call from PJ and Duncan. And they say golf still has a soul.