I was examining my TV remote control the other night, in the same curious way you’d peer at your shoe to see if that suspicious accumulation in the tread is merely gritting salt or something far more sinister, and I realised that there are loads of buttons on it that I’ve never, ever pressed.
Presumably, these neglected nubbins serve some valuable purpose and enhance the viewing experience but I’m simply unwilling to find out what they do.
There’s one, for instance, that’s plonked in the far reaches of said control and it resembles the kind of peculiar symbol you’d see inscribed on an ancient gown that’s unfurled at a satanic ritual.
This button may open up a whole new exciting world of TV opportunity but, such is my doddering, technological incompetence, it lies isolated and ignored.
In fact, my implausibly lumpen remote is so underused, apart from regular jabs of the on/off and channel +/- buttons, I may as well sit there and witlessly paw at a butternut squash while pointing it at the screen.
Talking of tuning in or indeed switching off, there continues to be plenty of talk about golf as a product on the idiot box. And what’s one of those favourite talking points? That’s right. The old chestnut of slow play.
If you’ve managed to catch any of the high-tech Tomorrow’s Golf League (TGL) then you may have watched Tiger Woods getting penalised by the shot clock after he exceeded the 40-second time limit.
Now, I know TGL is more of a cheery, hit-and-giggle affair but the message was clear. Get a shift on because the shot clock doesn’t care about names or reputations.
The idea of Woods getting hit with a slow play sanction on the normal tour is almost as outlandish as this correspondent venturing into the uncharted territory of mysterious remote control buttons.
Tiger was never a dawdler on the course anyway but one of the long-standing gripes about the ineffectiveness of slow play measures down the years has been the fact that officials would often go for the lesser lights and easy targets instead of the marquee names.
That’s if they ever punished anybody at all, of course. Let’s face it, golf’s slow coaches have been getting away with it for years as the game continues to battle with an issue that affects all levels, from the top of the pro tree to the roots of the recreational pursuit.
The presence of the shot clock in TGL has led to calls to get a similar device employed on the main PGA Tour to help get this seemingly constipated game, well, moving. Then again?
Some of the most prolific plooterers are so consumed in their own selfish world, they probably wouldn’t notice the Doomsday Clock tick-tocking towards Armageddon as they embark on an elaborate pre-shot routine that goes on longer than the tantric approach to fornication. Or so I’ve been told anyway.
A particularly excruciating final round at the recent Farmers Insurance Open, which just about led to players having a change of clothing between holes, drew considerable criticism.
“We need a new word to talk about this pace of play issue, and it’s respect,” sighed the TV analyst, Dottie Pepper. “For your fellow competitors, for the fans, for broadcasts, for all of it. It’s just gotta get better.”
But will it? In an age when golf viewership is declining, I’m reminded of the words of the inimitable scribe, the late Peter Dobereiner, in one of his gentle meanderings about pace of play back in the 1980s.
“TV ratings for golf were just about holding their own against a puppet theatre version of War and Peace in the original Russian,” he wrote.
Here in 2025, those spellbinding puppets have probably surged up the ratings compared to the bloomin’ golf.
We all know that trying to crack the whip at the highest level comes with various complications, whether it’s too many groups, par-fives that are now easily reachable in two, general course set-up, fiddly rulings, final day threeballs rather than twos and so on and so on and so on. You get the idea.
The players themselves, meanwhile, are often oblivious – some would say arrogantly dismissive – of the issue.
I recall a number of years ago, the then world No 1, Jason Day, being asked about his fairly ponderous pace of play.
“In my opinion, I don’t care so much about speeding up my game,” he replied. “I’ve got to get back to what makes me good. If that means I have to back off five times, then I’m going to back off five times before I hit my shot.”
In many ways it was an alarming statement as Day stood there casually normalising and justifying slow play. Such attitudes and unconscious reasoning, often indulged by the meek PGA Tour hierarchy, remain.
Watching golf can sometimes require the kind of gritty resolve that was once the reserve of the ancient mariner.
Rory McIlroy’s terrific early season statement win at Pebble Beach on Sunday night was still something of a slog as the final round, not helped by Tom Kim’s seemingly endless deliberations, clanked and creaked towards the five-and-a-half-hour mark.
For casual observers, even hardcore viewers, it can all be a bit of a turn off. And even this correspondent knows what button on the remote control does that.
