Mini Masters

Most international sporting fixtures have a frisson of cosmopolitan glamour. Yet what happens when Europe’s minigolf enthusiasts meet in Tampere, Finland? Matt Barr reports. Photography by Alexander Short

Monaco has its Grand Prix, Pamplona has the running of the bulls – hell, even little old Cowes on the Isle of Wight is world famous for its regatta. And Tampere in Finland? Well, Tampere has the European Minigolf Nations Cup. But while you’d be forgiven for thinking that this event might lack the cachet of a beautiful-peopled Monaco say, or a Hemingway-era Pamplona, the Nations Cup is actually sporting dynamite – albeit with a slow-burning fuse.

My introduction into the tribal (and, very occasionally, nationalist) world of international minigolf comes at the invitation of UK team member Richard “Squire” Gottfried. Richard is also the team media liaison officer, and a week before the event he tries to give me a feel for things by talking me through the event at length. Apparently, it will take place over four days – two practice days followed by two competition days – and be contested by teams from Austria, Finland, Germany, The Netherlands, Russia, Sweden, Switzerland, and the UK.

As Rich expounds the complexities of the minigolf scene with the vim of a zealot, it is difficult not to share his enthusiasm, although I do balk a little when he explains that during the event the teams will use two courses of 18 holes each, and basically spend four entire days lapping the same 36 holes.

One course has a smoother brown concrete surface known as “beton”, while the other has a grey, more hardened, beton surface known as “eternite”. The distance to the hole from the tee is rarely more than 10m, so the main golf club used is a putter.

“Four days?” I find myself asking. “Won’t they get bored and just keep getting holes in one?” Richard gives a little chuckle at my naivety. “Oh no! The top guys spend a week practising for some events.” Clearly, this is going to be an intense couple of days.

Tampere, a breezy, beautiful place, is Finland’s third-largest city, and on my first morning in town I have a quick wander around the place to get my bearings. The city bestrides two lakes, Pyhajarvi and Nasijarvi, and as such seems to be surrounded by water. Everybody speaks impeccable English, is unfailingly polite and engaged in healthy outdoorsy pursuits. A large student population gives the city a youthful feel, and like many Scandinavian cities it only really comes alive once night falls and the vodka is cracked open.

As I approach the course, the place is packed with spectators. Amid the players striding purposefully around, it’s easy to spot the Brits, and I head over to watch their practice session. I soon learn that, although it is easy to mock, minigolf is actually fiendishly difficult. Take hole 15, which is proving to be Squire Gottfried’s nemesis. A deft touch and concentrated visualisation is required to shoot the ball up a slope through a drainpipe leading to the hole. Get the line wrong and you’re back to the tee. It’s easy to ruin a run of “aces” (the team’s slang for a hole in one) with a catastrophic misjudgement on a hole such as this. At all costs, you must avoid scoring the dreaded seven – take six shots and it’s all over, with your score for that hole rounded up to seven. Later in the weekend, to the delight of the British team, I will distinguish myself by making the worst score of the entire weekend with no less than seven sevens.