In golfing terms it’s been a good week for the Irish – a very good week indeed.

Ever since I sent a full glass of red wine spinning towards Shane Lowry ten years ago at a European Tour dinner, covering his previously immaculate white dinner shirt in a growing pink stain, I’ve counted him as one of my favourites.  His equable handling of the whole incident, without the merest flicker of annoyance, endeared him to me right there and then.  So, I was thrilled to see him celebrate victory in the Abu Dhabi HSBC Championship, the first of this year’s Rolex series of tournaments.

Shane was that rare beast, a wire-to-wire winner, opening with a scintillating 62 and refusing to be deflected from his goal even after falling four adrift of Richard Sterne with a mere seven holes to play.  The confidence and natural buoyancy he possesses were washed away after the 2016 US Open where he failed to capitalise on a four-shot lead going into the final round.  Now they’ve come rushing back in full force with this victory.  With a cheque for more than a million Euros in his back pocket and a leap of 34 places in the world rankings to 41st, Shane has all but assured his appearances in the year’s majors and World Golf Championship events.  That’s a significant move after losing his PGA Tour card a few weeks back.

He and his coach, Neil Manchip, have worked their way out of a miserable 30-month spell and this win will long be remembered for the remarkable ELEVEN birdie 2s Lowry recorded at the sixteen par 3s he tackled over the week.  My outstanding memory of the tournament, however, will be his tee shot and 3-wood to the final hole, setting up that winning birdie.  Apart from the flawless execution of both shots it is everything that had preceded it for those two and a half long years that makes those shots so special.  Cometh the hour, cometh the man and, when he needed it, Shane conjured up the mental fortitude to prove to himself once and for all that he does possess that raft of elusive qualities which means you can win at the very highest level.

There is no reason why he can’t and won’t join that wonderful band of Irish major champions.  And, now, I think he believes that too.

Many years ago that most gritty and blunt of the leading coaches in the game, Pete Cowen, was coaching some promising Irish players.  When asked was there anyone, apart from McIlroy, showing any great talent, Pete gestured at Lowry.  “The fat one with the glasses.  He can play a bit.”  Some years later, after he’d won the Portuguese Open in 2012, Shane sent Cowen a message:  “Not bad for a fat boy in glasses.”

Seismic changes are afoot in the governance of the sport in Ireland.  The two oldest amateur governing bodies in world golf, the Golfing Union of Ireland (GUI) and the Irish Ladies’ Golf Union (ILGU) held an historic vote last Saturday asking for support from the clubs for the creation of a new body, Golf Ireland.  The months preceding the vote were filled with a plethora of meetings and roadshows up and down the country, educating and informing the clubs of the pros and cons and the aims and ambitions of the new body.  Two separate votes took place, the ILGU requiring 75% to trigger a constitutional change and the GUI needing only two thirds of the vote.

It was a nervy wait for the results, but it needn’t have been – the intensive homework done and the stellar communication conducted by both sides resulted in a very clear mandate from the clubs, 100%  in favour at the women’s meeting and 94% at the men’s.  [That’s the way to conduct a referendum! – ed]  A two-year transition period now commences and the actual birthday of Golf Ireland is scheduled for 1st January 2021.  It can only be good for the game, surely.

The two boards issued a joint statement:  “The result today indicates that members of both Unions are in support of creating a new organisation which will be built around promoting core principles of equality, diversity, inclusion and excellence.”

In the twilight of its existence the ILGU saw fit to honour two outstanding women for their longstanding and dedicated work for women’s golf throughout the land.  Both Roma English of Larne and Elaine Bradshaw of Clontarf and Kilkenny and an erstwhile Irish captain of mine, have been awarded Honorary Life Membership of the ILGU.  No two deserve this accolade more and it is a worthy recognition of all they have both brought to the game.  Congrats to you both!

Unbelievably, there was still more to come for Irish golf fans this week.  Step forward 21-year old Conor Purcell of Malahide, the first Irish winner of the Australian Amateur Championship in its 125-year history.  A Walker Cup hopeful, Purcell left college in the US to concentrate on full-time amateur golf this season and, ironically, this victory will bring him the opportunity of teeing it up in a couple of professional events over the course of this year.  The rollercoaster 36-hole final against Aussie Nathan Barbieri yielded 17 birdies between the pair and a nerve-jangling tie hole which the Irishman won with a solid par.

Thanks to the delights of Facebook Live, Conor’s parents Joey (long-time professional at Portmarnock) and Mary were able to watch the trophy presentation from their home in Ireland.  With brother Gary, a tennis professional based Down Under, on the bag it was a real family affair, albeit they were separated from each other by thousands of miles.

It would appear that the future of Irish golf is in good hands on all fronts and once again this small island is teaching us all how it is possible to punch above your weight time and time again.

 

 

 

 

As regular readers know (it’s lovely to realise that there’s more than one, thank youse) life is difficult for this particular organisationally impaired person and this has been a particularly tricky week.  I’d show you a photo of my desk, littered with notes and lists, some in jotters, some on scraps of paper or the back of envelopes as I attempt to cope with a tsunami of admin but Mo’s photo shop is now closed for business, my computer’s photographic memory is full and plans B-Z have stalled.  Lucky youse.

I’m off on a big trip and I haven’t been on a big trip like this for years.  During a mammoth session of rooting and sorting I discovered a passport from 20 years ago and even I didn’t recognise the woman in the picture.  In her place now is someone unrecognisable as the same person, grim, gaunt, grey.  Part of that is the fault of the passport people because they want to drain all the life and colour out of their subjects:  “neutral expression….mouth closed no smiling, frowning or raised eyebrows…no hair across the eyes……”  and so on and on.  Looking at my latest effort I’m not sure I’d let me in anywhere…..Fingers crossed.

This is a particularly fraught time of year for us last-minute merchants in that we absolutely have to sort out our taxes, there’ll be no mercy if we miss the deadline of the 31st.  That’s entailed a couple of trips to the accountant, some money to be paid to the taxman, sorry, the revered HMRC and fingers crossed they agree with everything, including the fact that they were paid electronically this very Thursday evening.  I hear that some people – who paid online in plenty of time and received confirmation from HMRC – have been fined £100 for missing the deadline!  Yes, that deadline; the one at the end of this month, the one that is still a week away.  Ah, Her Majesty’s Revenue inspiring Confidence….

There’s been no golf for me this week, in deference to list after list:  car insurance, house insurance, travel insurance, travel card pin – wrong?  Yet another phone call, more memorable words to recall, another password long forgotten, mother’s maiden name, limit on credit card; suspend gym membership; clean the loos; change the sheets; empty the fridge; play Balderdash; ditch bridge (damn, but something has to give); collect walking shoes (if they’ve arrived); pick up new specs.  Eat; fill the dishwasher; empty the dishwasher; coffee with the next door neighbour; sort the misbehaving boiler, change the thermostat setting – oops low battery, change the battery, double oops HOW?!!!  Relax, breathe, remember that commitment to Zen (radio programme, half heard, wholly misunderstood)!  Thank God that you’re not Theresa May. Did you really once think that you’d quite like to be prime minister or foreign secretary one day……Lucky youse, it never happened.

At the end of it all, am I sorted?  Not quite but progress has been made.  The packing is nearly done, the really, really serious stuff is under some sort of control and, most important of all, all the heavy organising has been done by proper organisers who don’t just plan ahead, they go ahead and do it ahead.  (How on earth does that work?)

I’m hoping to come back wiser (well, travel is meant to broaden the mind and my brain cell is willing to expand), fitter (serious exercise addicts in the party) and a much better golfer.  It’s not a golfing holiday per se but there’ll be some golf and I’m hopelessly overmatched, so here’s hoping to pick up some good tips.  Also, I’ve never been to this place before, so I’m starting to get really excited about what’s in store.  The accountant grew up there and, bless him, brought in some pics to get me in the mood.  He’s nearly as excited as I am….

A friend took me out to dinner last night and it was a lovely, relaxing, no-fretting zone.  Thank you.

It was particularly easy to keep my tower of tasks in perspective this week for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the news that Debbie Dowling, a friend from years ago, had died suddenly and unexpectedly.  Mo and I are still in shock, so our hearts can only go out to her family and close friends.  Bon courage.

Debbie, a bouncy blonde (or possibly a brunette) from Wimbledon, played for Surrey and England as an amateur, then turned professional in 1981 and joined the fledgling women’s European Tour (known as the WPGA then).  She was quite a player and won her fair share of tournaments as a professional:  the Bloor Homes Eastleigh Classic (twice), the Laing Ladies Classic, the Portuguese Ladies Open, the Woodhall Hill Tournament, the Colt Cars Jersey Open.  All our yesterdays.  Bear in mind that in those days everyone played in everything, so 99 per cent of the time the best players were there; there were no weak fields except in so far as it was a new venture on this side of the Atlantic and all the players were learning their trade.

Looking through the old handbooks the memories came flooding back, such good times, such fun, so many friends. I rang Lindy Johnson, widow of Bill, who found his niche reporting on the women’s tour.  They travelled far and worldwide, though Bill, a doughty Lancastrian, was never prone to culinary experimentation.  In Kuala Lumpur once, Lindy recalled, Bill was baffled by the wide-ranging, international selection at breakfast and asked Debbie’s advice.  She didn’t miss a beat:  “Oh, the fish stomach curry, definitely.”

Thanks for the happy memories and the laughter all of youse.  Lucky us.