History
The Claret Jug's Strange Journey Since 1873
Golf·2 min read·July 26, 2026

Ruaraidh Gillies, CC BY-SA 2.0
Every golfer who wins The Open gets to lift the Claret Jug. Almost none of them get to keep it.
The trophy that replaced a belt
Before the Claret Jug existed, The Open's winner took home the Challenge Belt — a leather belt with a silver buckle, first awarded in 1860. That system had an obvious flaw: in 1870, Young Tom Morris won his third Championship in a row and, under the rules, got to keep the belt outright. There was suddenly no trophy left to give anyone.
Three golf clubs — Prestwick, the Royal and Ancient at St Andrews, and the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers — each put in £10 to commission a replacement. Mackay Cunningham & Company of Edinburgh built it: a tall silver vessel shaped like the jugs used to serve claret, the dry red Bordeaux wine that gave the trophy its nickname. Its actual engraved name is "The Golf Champion Trophy." Nobody's ever called it that.
A trophy that arrived before it was ready
The Claret Jug's history has an odd gap at the start. Young Tom Morris won again in 1872 — his fourth title — and his name went on the trophy first. But the jug itself wasn't finished in time, so he got a medal instead. Tom Kidd, the following year's winner, became the first golfer to actually hold the thing.
Why winners don't keep it
Since 1928, every champion has received a full-size replica to keep for the 12 months before they have to defend the title — and can order up to three smaller replicas on top of that. The real Claret Jug hasn't left St Andrews since the R&A decided in 1927 to keep it on permanent display. It's stood there for close to a century: 20¾ inches tall, about 5½ pounds, 92.5% sterling silver.
Twenty-eight different champions actually held the original before the club drew that line. Walter Hagen, in 1928, was the first to take home a copy instead of the real thing.
The jug has shown up twice on Scottish £5 banknotes — a level of cultural presence most sports trophies never get close to. For a piece of silverware nobody's allowed to actually own, it's done fairly well for itself.