General / Editor / 14 August 2007 /

Craig Dutton is a loser at the PGA from ball no 1

Angel Cabrera and I have been courting for around twelve months now. I've been shouting it from the rooftops but in all honesty, things have been touch and go.

After the US Open victory, we partied long into the night. Things have been a little shaky since and the cracks have started to appear. It happens to every long-term relationship, doesn't it? Now, after this weekend, things have hit rock bottom. If I were a camel, and a period of time could be a straw, then his weekend would have broken my back.

I supported Cabrera in every market conceivable for Tulsa, regardless of value. Outright to win the tournament. Without Woods. Top rest of the World player. three-ball. two-ball. Top player with "angel" somewhere in his name, and he even lost that. Things are not going well when day one of a Major sinks you.

And so, this passionate diatribe was going to be a condemnation of affectionate betting - betting with your heart and not with your head. In almost every case, regardless of your lover, you will lose. On Thursday evening, I never wanted to bet Cabrera again.

But after the initial anger subsides, you begin to reflect on the wider picture. And the wider picture I see shows I don't really mind that I lost. I was unhappy to lose, of course, but he is my favourite golfer. He couldn't pull it off, so I was annoyed. At least I felt an emotion - anger, joy, anything will do. But had he won, I'd have been elated. I'd have been grinning wildly as I saw my bank balance inflate, but more importantly, although it may be hard to believe, I'd have been happy that my favourite player won. That my favourite player beat everybody else, and won a major tournament. Not Woods, not Garcia, not Els - MY man. Angel Cabrera.

Everybody likes to win. But I like to have fun too. Betting your favourites will undoubtedly get you nowhere in the long run, but it's a hell of a lot more enjoyable than studying form. Gambling isn't my profession, it's my hobby. Any fool can see Tiger Woods, at his best, will beat everyone. That he was able to do that this weekend is a testament to his unparalleled ability to win almost anything he really focuses on, almost without exception. And had I placed a wager, I'd have rooted for him. But in the back of my mind, the cinders and embers of my relationship with Angel would still be simmering. And in a play-off situation, Woods can hit the road. Angel is back, and Angel is mine.

If I back him off the edge of a cliff, Angel Cabrera will always retain a piece of my battered, betting heart. Who knows, we may see the good times once again. Alternatively, I may turn to drink. Yet still, the enjoyment of winning with Cabrera will supersede the enjoyment of winning with any other golfer. I'm not saying it will be a monogamous relationship. Cabrera has a wife and children. I have David Toms. But losing, like winning, is all part of the tapestry. It's why I still gamble. It's better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.

Which love affairs have cost you dearly, and do you really mind? Or alternatively, who has repaid your faith? Feel free to contact me, Angel is out with friends, and he hasn't called since 10.

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