On a typically chilly Canberra evening in July of 1976, the Cleary family of Curtin South opened a big brown box to find a big brown bomber – a new JVC television that the old man had purchased to watch the Montreal Olympics.

It had two channels, “seven” and “three”, which was Channel 10 and ABC, respectively. And that was normal enough. In big city Sydney they had four channels and you could go to granma’s place and get up early on a Saturday and watch Thunderbirds, and Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp.

What was very cool about the television, though, was that it was – gasp, what a world we live in – a “colour” television, with the magical technology of “Panavision”, or something, I can’t remember, I used to go right up close to see the little dots.

But it was bloody beauty of a television, and we watched the Opening Ceremony and Nadia Comineci bending her belly and earning the first perfect “10” on the uneven bars, and Australians winning exactly no gold medals at all.

But a life in sport was set in motion for six-year-old me.

Nearly 50 years later, I plopped down on the couch, popped open a tin of hops-based beverage, and took up the remote to watch the NSW Open on a television so smart that in 1976 it would have driven a mainframe computer the size of many houses.

And there followed a … let’s call it a process.

For one, the golf wasn’t on Foxtel, like sport is. Then I remembered it was Seven. But it wasn’t on Seven that’s on the list of Foxtel channels, like normal Seven, it was on one of the “digital” ones – Plus or Mate or Best Cobber, something like it.

So I had to scroll through the apps to see if I had the Seven app, which I did. Then I had scan a QR code with my phone so that Seven could data-mine me, one assumes.

But the QR code didn’t work, so I had to login via the Seven app on my phone. Did I have the Seven app on my phone? Seems I did. I still had to download it. Then it was fat fingers to knock in an email address while hoping that the password was the right variation of one I use for most every thing else, if the Nigerians find it out, I am finished.

And so the Smart TV whirred and the modem’s lights flickered, and the magic of Murray Downs, like it had at Montreal, came to life. Yet it wasn’t so much streaming as, what’s that word, glitching. It replayed bits in a loop. It was fuzzy like the bear.

After it smoothed out there was a few minutes’ golf before Seven justified whatever they paid to broadcast the tournament by showing advertisements. At other times there was moody overhead and largely silent shots of Murray Downs.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t click the “Back” button on the remote and go straight out to race three in Taree, or what have you, because you were “in” the app. Going “out” could mean starting the process over again.

And it was all quite vexing. 

Respectful, golf-savvy crowds followed the players in the NSW Open. PHOTO: Golf NSW

And, at the risk of being Old Man Shouting At Cloud, I would posit that turning on the old JVC hot-box and watching whatever is on it remains a more seamless viewing experience.

All that said … 

The golf was really good! Indeed it proved another enjoyable Sunday afternoon watching quality Australian golf on a quality Australian golf course with a pair of top-quality Australian golfers going hard with the best of the local boys.

It was like a pair of famous actors, Russell Crowe and David Wenham, say, sharing top billing with the locals in the Rich River Philharmonic Society’s production of Don’s Party.

The governing bodies earn their share of brickbats from publications such as ours, but the Challenger Tour of Australasia, for the slob on the couch peeling lids off tinnies, is a winner.

Viva le Tour, as they say.

There’s something very cool, organic and Australian about crowds following two of world golf’s superstars, and being laidback, respectful and golf-smart to let them do their thing and appreciate it.

Cameron Smith‘s thing was to play 54 holes really well and a final 18 quite poorly, giving ammunition to those who believe his game isn’t sharp enough to play 72 holes, given LIV, and all that, let’s not go there, at least not for now. 

Open Champion of 2022, Cameron Smith (left), meets Peter O’Malley Bathurst Junior Masters champion of 2018, Corey Lamb, on the first tee at Murray Downs. PHOTO: Golf NSW

It was cool watching Smith play with Corey Lamb – they call him “Chops”, of course, bless them – who golfed his ball around with aplomb.

Myself and fellow staffer, Callum Hill, had a round with Chops at his home track, Cypress Lakes, in Pokolbin on the NSW Hunter Valley, and there were no flies on Chops, in the Australian way.

And if he keeps up his current vein of form and gets on telly more, he could be one of those “cult figures”, given the shape of him. 

Hopefully, with the two Australian ‘majors’ coming up, it’ll be easier to turn on the telly and see him.