Darren Clarke maintained his lead after three rounds to close on what would be the first Major of his career. Photograph: Richard Sellers/Sportsphoto/Sportsphoto Ltd./AllstarWith all this gilded youth about the place, golf's old guard appear geriatric. Phil Mickelson is starting to look like one of the Sopranos and Darren Clarke, who leads the Open field by one stroke, has entered his Johnny Cash years, marching about in black while the 22-year-old Rickie Fowler turns up for work in a white ensemble with pink spots.
"Did I ever doubt I would get myself back into this position? No," Clarke said before returning to the house of his agent, Chubby Chandler, "to stuff my face, go to bed about 10, try not to drink too much". As this candid debrief unfolded, America's Dustin Johnson was one shot back, on four under, and Fowler was tied with Thomas Bjorn on two under par after Clarke's third round of 69.
Of all the nearly men in majors, Clarke is the European most in need of anointing, if you discount Colin Montgomerie, which age already has. In a BBC discussion on Friday night, Clarke was described as the most naturally gifted golfer on his island. As Irish players have won five majors since Padraig Harrington opened the door with his victory in the 2007 Open at Carnoustie, this is no minor claim.
But history is piled up against the 42-year-old from Dungannon, who describes his interests as "fishing, cigars, fine wines, cars and Liverpool FC". Whoever first said everyone has the face they deserve by 40 might have had Clarke in mind. His features speak of bonhomie and a good night out, and his frame has the soft bulk of a man born for middle age.
The big statistical barrier is that no golfer has won the Open after more than 15 attempts. That record belongs to Nick Price, in 1994. Nick Faldo needed 11 goes and Harrington 10, so perseverance does pay off. Clarke, though, is playing his 20th Open Championship. For his third round, during which he struck birdies at the 1st, 7th and 12th (and bogeys at 5 and 8), the rain ceased and the wind dropped, but history kept on intimating that his chance has already passed.
The oldest Open winner was Tom Morris Sr, at 46 years and 99 days, in 1867. In the modern era, that distinction belongs to Roberto de Vicenzo, who was 44 and 93 days, in 1967. The good news is that Clarke is not the sort to bend the knee to convention. "I've failed 20 times – well, 19 times – to lift the Claret Jug and I have an opportunity," he said. "But, at the moment, it's just an opportunity because the weather is going to be very windy again and there's a long way still to go in this championship."
At least he can count on home support as Fowler comes with a rattle. There is no such thing as antipathy from an Open gallery. The very worst you can expect is warm applause. But there are grades or types of support, from adoring (Rory McIlroy) to parental (Tom Lewis) to nostalgic (Tom Watson). Clarke draws on another kind of empathy.
His appeal stems from the old love of flawed characters with whom the masses can identify. Imperfection is celebrated if it comes with warmth of spirit. There are those who say this is a simplified view of Clarke. But wedged forever in the public's mind is the memory of him turning up for the 2006 Ryder Cup three weeks after his wife, Heather, had succumbed to cancer. The elegiac feel on the 1st tee at the K Club near Dublin that day remains vivid. The mass appropriation of Clarke's trauma was discomforting at times, yet there was no mistaking the sense of a man enacting Beckett's greatest line: "I can't go on, I'll go on." He was at the core of a victorious Europe team, but has not been seen much since at the forefront of major action.
He said before his face-stuffing expedition: "I was once given a quote from Ken Brown [part of the BBC commentary team]. He said to me before my first Ryder Cup in Valderrama in 1997: 'Don't let your golf game determine your attitude, let your attitude determine your golf game.' If my attitude is good then the ball-striking is going to be good."
His closest brush with immortality in individual events came 14 years ago, at Troon in 1997, when he shot 67 and 66 before two weekend rounds of 71 left him three strokes behind America's Justin Leonard. Four years later, at Royal Lytham and St Annes, he tied for third, four shots off David Duval's winning score. In those days, it seemed a matter of simply guessing the year Clarke would place his mitts on the Claret Jug.
Here in Kent, he shot 68 in each of his first two rounds. On Friday, he nailed an 80-foot eagle putt on the 7th and carded five birdies, three bogeys and a double-bogey at the 4th. "I couldn't have hit any better from tee to green. On the green was not quite the same, to say the least," he said of Saturday's round. But support grew throughout the day: "Even when I did give myself opportunities and was missing them, they were still roaring at me: 'Come on Darren, come, on Darren,' which is just wonderful. There are very few tournaments where I would get that support."
Now engaged to Alison Campbell, a former Miss Northern Ireland (an irrelevant detail, but somehow still obligatory), Clarke wore a settled look as he and Lucas Glover advanced through soft evening light as the last pair in. Players who had braved slicing wind and lashing rain in the morning doubtless stuck two fingers up to their television screen out of jealousy. Pure meteorological chance smiled on Clarke as he exposed an anomaly that was largely missed on Friday night.
The world's top two ranked players – England's Luke Donald and Lee Westwood – missed the cut here, casting further doubt on the ability of either to win a first major championship. This really is a hellish realm. The longer the wait, the more insistent the questions and the harsher the judgments. Clarke has spent most of his career on the borderline between promise and fulfilment, but now he finds himself gazing down at an Open field with 18 holes between him and a coronation.
Close, but no cigar, has been his story, but you can feel the flame.
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