The Open Career of Maurice Flitcroft

I can’t help but take an interest in the scores of Regional Open Qualifying at this time of year.  I’d love to tell you it’s because I’m keen to see who’s qualified, who’s played well and who’s a rising star, but in truth it’s in the vain hope of finding a modern day Gene Pacecki, Gerald Hoppy or a James Beau Jolley.  Sadly, it’s always a fruitless search.  Gate crashing The Open clearly isn’t what it used to be.

If you’re familiar with these names already, you’ll  know they were all aliases of Maurice Gerald Flitcroft.  Flitcroft was a crane operator from Barrow-in-Furness who managed to sidestep the R&A qualification processes, reportedly on five occasions, to take part in Open Qualifying.

You would be hard pressed to class any of Flitcroft’s attempts as successful, given that the only year he managed to complete his round without being marched off the premises, he shot 121 (+49) – the worst score recorded in the tournament’s history. Still, he did guarantee himself a place in golfing folklore.

After signing up to Open Qualifying at Formby in 1976, Maurice Flitcroft quickly became the story of the day as it soon transpired that he was not, in fact, capable of the self-proclaimed professional standard of golf that his entry forms declared.  Self-taught from a Peter Alliss instructional book, and armed with a red imitation-leather bag and a half set of clubs, Flitcroft wasted no time in raising the suspicion of his playing partners – his first shot travelled all of four feet and his second was shanked! For reasons it’s hard to fathom (though we’ve all had our off days), he was allowed to carry on and the inevitable carnage unfolded, with a solitary par spoiling an otherwise perfect run of doubles and triples.

Flitcroft naturally became the hot topic in the press and created instant sporting headlines. Whether it was delusion or humour, I’m not sure, but he would later excuse his poor performance on leaving his four-wood in the boot of his car: “I was an expert with the four-wood. Deadly accurate.” he said.

Following lengthy correspondence with the R&A, Flitcroft was subsequent banned from all R&A tournaments for life.  But that wouldn’t deter him, and two years later he was back, attempting to play under the pseudonym of Gene Pacecki.  In 1983, he was Gerald Hoppy, and he took to the tee as James Beau Jolly in 1990. Perhaps unsurprisingly, each attempt ultimately proved unsuccessful, in so much as he was escorted off the premises before completing his round, but he still got as far as playing!

The lengths he went to when masquerading as Gerald Hoppy, a ‘Swiss professional’ were perhaps the most elaborate. Sporting dyed hair and a fake moustache, the disguise allowed ‘Hoppy’ to come closest to completing a scorecard, managing nine holes and 63 strokes before officials intervened.

I read about Maurice Flitcroft with divided emotions, though. On the one hand, I can’t help finding the story endearing.  It’s real school-boy pranks stuff, and while it may not be a chapter the R&A are proud of, I like to think that Peter Dawson et al can (in privacy at least) chuckle about it now.

On the other hand, there were several genuine professional golfers who would’ve had their chances of Qualifying scuppered by Mr Flitcroft, and with it their shot at a potential ‘Golden Ticket’ to the big time. You have to remember that back in the 70s and 80s, there were far more qualifying spots available for The Open, and it represented a genuine chance for those trying to make a living from the game. Not only did he occupy spots in the draw but you have to assume his playing partners weren’t helped either. It is one thing trying to block out what your opponent is doing, but trying to block out an entire circus is another altogether.  I have to admit, I’d have been utterly furious.

Maurice Flitcroft’s sadly died in 2007 and regardless of your take on his Open Qualifying career (if you can call it that), it’s certainly a wonderful story.  While this year’s Regional Qualifying had no false moustaches, half sets, or scores of 49 over par, perhaps next year you’ll join me in keeping an eye out for another masquerading Maurice!