I’m glad I’m a golfer.  Golfers tend to be found on or adjacent to golf courses and golf courses are usually lovely places to be and many of them are in stunning parts of the world.  Last October I played a trio of delights in the Emerald Isle – http://www.madillgolf.com/places/portstewart-portrush-castlerock-a-trio-of-golfing-delights

Well, this past week I turned left out of the gate at my Cheshire home and, along with a Welsh pal, Pam Valentine, headed north to Scotland.  As we sailed past Gretna we mused over whether we’d soon be needing passports to cross the border, which led to us reporting to Drive Up Drive Off Sandra, ( http://www.madillgolf.com/coaching/warm-hot-start) our hostess and one of our fourball for the week, that we had spotted the planning notice for a border crossing and the foundations were already being laid.  Her immediate outrage caused us great merriment.  We really are very simple folk!

But on to the golf and the first stop from our Nairn base was Dornoch.  Pam had last been there in 1999 joyfully witnessing Wales’ first ever victory in the women’s Home Internationals and the good memories came flooding back as this former international player, captain and selector prepared to play the course for the first time.  It did not disappoint – and neither did her golf.

One of life’s treats.

The Welsh dragon can play!

The course was in superb nick for late March and as the sun climbed high in the sky the layers of thermals came off and we ended up feeling we couldn’t have had a better experience had we come in mid summer.  The match went to the last with Pam and her partner, Gill Stewart, birdieing two out of the last three to grab the bragging rights.  Ah well, almost a perfect day!

Next on our list was one of my favourite places – Castle Stuart.  We rolled up on what turned out to be the opening day of their season and the welcome overflowed into the car park to envelop us.

There’s a welcome waiting…….

Elspeth, Jeremy, Stef, Keith, Lennie et al were on hand effortlessly smoothing our way to the first tee, meeting us at the half way house with a mug of lentil soup and a hot dog and sliding a glass of Guinness (other brands are available) into our hands at the 19th.  Perfect weather, a course in amazing condition for early spring and complete visual overload – what a combination!  Again, the match went to the last, this time yours truly digging out a couple of birdies in the last three to tie things up.

Gill and Mo at the halfway house

This was all a winter warm-up for our next outing a few days later at Muirfield against Stuart McEwen and his team in the 22nd playing of The Madill Trophy.  Smarting from numerous defeats over the years, the Honourable Company have upped their game recently bringing in some formidable rookies, rugby’s Gavin Hastings being one.  Gillian and I had a ding-dong match with Stuart and Gavin, finishing all square but victory by the recalled PC Brown and partner Chris Cowan ensured a lunchtime lead of a point for the hosts.  Eight-a-side and 36 holes of foursomes translates into a total of eight matches all played under the Dallmeyer handicapping system.  The brainchild of a former member of the HCEG, any side reaching 3 up has to give a stroke a hole until the match gets back to one, which usually results in very close matches.  I, for one, certainly don’t mind receiving Dallmeyer and then going on to win!

Handing over the trophy to Stuart McEwan- it’s only on loan!

Alas, the men ultimately edged home this year, winning by 4.5 to 3.5, sabotaging some of my (not unwilling) team at lunch with liquid refreshment.

The classy Class of ’17

So, Scotland really put on a show for our golfing journey – three magnificent golf courses, wonderful weather and lots of laughs.  Pity the week had to end – anything following is sure to be a comedown.

Now where’s my diary till I see what’s next…..Ah yes!  Monday 3rd April – Augusta!  It’s a tough life!

It’s 20 years since Tiger Woods wowed the world by winning the Masters by miles and turned things upside down:  a black man winning a golf tournament in Georgia with a white man on the bag.  Hallelujah.  It’s hard to exaggerate how important that was to an awful lot of people.  And yet it’s still hard to persuade people that golf is a mixed game in every respect, a game for everyone whatever their race, religion or athleticism (or lack of it).  Of course, the most fraught mix of all – women and men – is still not entirely resolved everywhere, so golf remains a work in progress.  Wouldn’t it be boring if everything were perfect?!

The young Tiger was far from perfect on his opening nine holes at Augusta in 1997 and went out in 40.  Maureen, who’d been walking with him, decided that he’d been over-hyped and piddled off to watch someone else.  It was not one of her better decisions.  Tiger creamed a 2-iron (remember those?) off the 10th tee to set up his first birdie of the tournament and he was off and running, running away from everyone, for the next ten years and more.  In the Guardian last Saturday, Richard Williams, himself a master of his craft, recalled that shot as the crucial moment and Tiger agreed in his new book Unprecedented, The Masters and Me, written with Lorne Rubinstein.

Tiger preparing for the 2013 Masters.

I think that was the year there was no floral colour at Augusta – nature is still a law unto itself – and the place stank because of the stuff that had been put down to give the appearance of a little bit of green.  Fortunately, TV doesn’t bother with scent but conditions were not easy and one of my all-time favourite Tiger shots was his third into the 15th, not sure which round.  I think he’d driven into the trees and had to poke the ball out, so he had a very tricky pitch from a severe downhill lie, off a less than perfect surface, over the water to that hideously tilted green.  He caught the ball just right and because of the slope he ended on one leg and you knew from the way he held the pose that he loved the shot.

When asked about it afterwards, he couldn’t disguise his delight, dropped his dead bat responses and enthused with the passion of a man who just loves what he does (facing the press excepted!)  The one sure way to get Tiger to take off  his mask was to ask about a particular shot and then he couldn’t help himself:  he’d forget the sarcasm and the suspicion and reveal a bit of the person.

Tiger may or may not be at Augusta this year.  Let’s hope he goes to the champions’ dinner and enjoys the chat and the camaraderie, promotes the book and celebrates his past triumphs, despite yearning to be out there competing.  The sneaking suspicion is that his body has had it, that he can no longer compete at the top level, no matter how strong his will but who knows?  We’ll find out in the fullness of time.

My favourite Masters memories include watching Seve intimidate a rookie rules official at the 10th into giving him a free drop, only for his playing partner Ken Green to wander over and object.  Michael Bonallack, then secretary of the R&A and a rules man of some authority, was summoned, ambled across the fairway, barely paused in his stride, took one look, said, “Play it Seve,” and carried on.  Seve played it.

Which hole do you think? Patrons wending their way downhill.

Then there was the clandestine little ceremony, further into the trees a little nearer the 10th green, as we scattered a friend’s ashes in a lovely spot framed by dogwood, with a good view of the green and some glorious azaleas (the weather had been kind that year and the place was blooming).  Officially, we were not allowed to do such a thing but who knows how many people are dotted about a very special place, enjoying the peace and quiet, interrupted only for a few, heady days every April?

I’ve played Augusta National only once and made two pars, at the 3rd and the 16th, which was better than I expected and probably more than I deserved.  The greens, even at pre-tournament speeds and with advice from a local caddy, were not for the technically challenged!  We also played the par 3 course, which was delightful and had lunch in the clubhouse.  Eternal thanks to Billy Morris, who was our host.

John Redmond, who worked for the Irish Press, now defunct, was less fortunate.  On his only trip to the Masters, he did have the luck to be drawn out of the hat to play the course on the Monday after the event but it had been manky weather all week and I remember waking up in the middle of the night on Sunday/Monday, hearing the rain hammering down and thinking “Oops”.  Sure enough, the course had had enough and Monday’s golf was off.  Bummer. Not sure that John ever has had a chance to play.

If you get the chance, do go.  It’s not as perfect as it’s painted – how could it be? – but it’s worth the detour.

What better place for a golfer to be in April?