Tommy's Honour

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1

George Atwood, sir,

from "the times" of London.

I looked in at the shop.

They said I'd find you here.

There was another Atwood

at your newspaper.

Yes, my father.

And to his last breath

he told anyone who'd listen

about the "grand old man of

golf."

I see you're still

looking after the course.

Do you, uh,

do you ever get out to play?

Aye.

I can barely hit it

out my own shadow.

That's the modest old Tom

my father wrote about.

You are the founder

of the open championship.

Four-time winner

of the challenge belt.

Why, if not for you, what would

have become of the game of golf?

Listen.

I don't know what kind of article

you've come here to write...

But if it's about

the "grand old man of golf,"

- then you can think again.

- I'm sorry, I...

There's only one story

you'll get from me.

A story about a boy

who carried a cut down golf club

I made for him, everywhere.

A boy who thought he could beat

every golfer in Scotland.

A boy who slept

like a paving stone.

Tommy.

Tommy!

Up!

Far and sure, son.

Far and sure.

There's far for you.

Downward strike, son.

Sharp as you can.

Nice shot. Come on.

Tom Morris.

Master Greenkeeper.

That young lad of yours

is growing like a weed.

He'll make a fine caddy one day.

Thank you, sir.

I'd putt that.

Gambler's spirit.

Duly noted.

Good game, son.

Well played.

- Come now, Tom.

- You've got work to do.

Get the scorecards.

Come on, Lang Dan.

You'll be giving the captain a

lesson after these men come in.

Give me my club, Lang Dan.

Play away, sir.

Direction-wise...

Perfect drive, sir.

Jamie, if I can't read your writing, how

do you expect your schoolmaster to?

I can read it.

Tell us about the train that

goes under the ground, Tommy.

A wonder of the world it is,

Jackie.

10,000 men

dug a tunnel under London.

500 men lost their lives.

And down in this tunnel,

right under everyone's feet,

a thousand lanterns

light the way for a train

that goes as fast as a

cannonball!

- Come on!

- Ah!

Choo-choo!

Thomas Morris junior, put the

child down before you injure him.

You're to help your brother with his

schooling and set a Christian example.

You're not to be

gallivanting about.

Yes, mum.

Back to your lessons now.

There shall be

no fun in this house, children.

Lovely to see you

this fine day, Mrs. Morris.

It would be no fit sabbath

without your sermon to guide us.

Oh, your children are a

testament

to the standards you've set,

madam.

That was Beethoven.

I remember my first piano

lesson like it was yesterday.

I've also had singing lessons

since I was five years old.

Straight away, the teacher said

I had perfect pitch.

Do you know what that is, Tommy?

Perfect pitch?

That was a crap shot.

- You've already had your crap shot.

- Clearly you can have more...

And that was your last one

two shots ago.

- What took you so long?

- Oh, I was kidnapped.

Tortured with Beethoven and

cake.

Did you pray for us

in church today, Tommy?

Indeed I did not.

Two of you are past salvation.

Oh, here, speaking of sin.

Davie enjoyed

a fine romance last night.

- Aye, or so he claims.

- Hey, there's no claiming about it.

Her name was prudence.

Thankfully she had none.

A rut iron.

It's a good club for killing

snakes.

Found a better use for it.

Pick your coins up, boys,

they'll be mine presently.

- Yeah?

- Huh?

- Aye.

- I won that round, Jamie.

Not a chance, man.

Are you daft?

That's no rut iron shot.

You need a mashie.

Not anymore you don't.

- Whoa, wait, what did I just see?

- All right, it hit a rock.

- Penny says I can do it again.

- Yeah, all right, I'll take that wager.

Aye, so will I.

Right, what was that?

This can do more than just

pick balls out ruts, boys.

You bring the club down hard

on the back of the ball

and it'll spin like a top,

front to back.

I call it backspin.

Pay up.

Come on.

Her ladyship inquires as to

the hour of your return.

Day is over when the war is won.

Dad's at war

with the gorse bushes, Tommy.

Oh, aye.

And the dunes no doubt,

and the rain and the goats

and the rabbits.

- I fear I'm outnumbered.

- Yeah, dad, I was thinking...

You got a teeing ground

at the first hole, right?

Well, why don't we put one

next to every green?

The way you've got it now

we've got golfers out there

tearing our Greens up every day.

Eh, it's not a bad idea.

But who am I to fiddle

with a 500-year-old game?

There are 13 rules to golf.

The first one,

you must tee the ball...

Within a club length of the hole.

Even I know that.

- And rules written 100 years ago.

- Aye, and you'll not be changing them.

Leave the rules of golf

to the steering committee.

Men of the Morris persuasion,

good day to you.

Well, afternoon, captain.

Niblick's as good as new.

Ah, good, good.

Hmm.

I trust you'll be, uh, caddying for

me at the spring meeting, Tom?

It would be a pleasure,

sir, but, uh,

colonel Fairlie's already

arranged for my services.

Oh, I see.

Well, perhaps, young Tommy

could do the honors.

That's a very generous offer,

sir.

I don't know, sir.

Well, Tom...

I've been considering betting

on you for the match next week.

But your last outing

against Willie park...

You cost me 60 pounds.

Sorry, sir.

Well, it's not the money

I'm worried about.

It's, uh, it's my reputation...

My standing in the eyes of the

town.

Understand, sir.

And your putting, god knows,

it's worse than my own.

Perhaps you might like to let

your sons make the gutties

and you get out and practice.

Thank you, sir.

Practice.

That man is a captain in the club.

How could you insult him?

Why'd you let him

talk to you like that, dad?

Because he has every right to.

I work for him

and the other gentlemen.

Yeah, you do, but I don't.

A caddy's son you are

and a caddy you'll be.

- Yeah, we'll see.

- What else would you be doing?

Well, I'll be a golfer.

Aye, a golf professional?

Who gives lessons?

Who makes golf balls?

Who makes golf clubs?

Who caddies for gentlemen

and treats them with respect?

No, that's yourself

you're talking about, dad.

And have you thought about how

you're going to make a living, boy?

Twelve... 13...

The lad's ready.

Why is he not your

playing partner?

He's just 15, sir.

We've been betting on you

for years now, Tom.

And when you've won, we put a

pretty penny in your pocket.

And I'm grateful to you

and to the other gentlemen.

But in all fairness to us, Tom,

your performance has fallen off.

What you say, sir, is...

It's a hard reckoning.

And a fair one.

Look here,

your backers want to win,

you have debts,

your lad's ready.

In one stroke

you solve the problem.

I thank you for your

good counsel, Mr. Kinloch.

- If I may?

- Of course. You have work to do.

Tom?

A man's got to use every club he

has.

Twenty for the winner.

A Sterling debut, lad.

Two Thomas Morris'

are certainly better than one.

Thank you, sir.

Don't worry, Willie.

I'm sure the park brothers

will live to fight another day.

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