One of my favourite weekends in the golfing calendar is coming up – the Walker Cup, the biennial match between the best male amateurs from Great Britain & Ireland and the best from the United States.  It is to be played this weekend at Royal Liverpool, a club and course rich with the heritage and history of the game.  Because of an overcrowded diary I won’t be there but I will be following with an interest that has flourished and grown over the past number of years.

Back in 2003 I was commentating for the BBC at Ganton when Northern Ireland’s Garth McGimpsey led the home side against a talented American team.  Two points adrift going into the final session of eight singles meant that a monumental effort was required by the GB&I team if they were to wrest the trophy from the visitors.  The required effort was delivered with a total of 5.5 points and the narrowest of victories was achieved.

The hero of the hour was Welshman Nigel Edwards who holed the winning putt and halved his match against Lee Williams ensuring he remained unbeaten in his four matches.  That rare beast nowadays, a career amateur, Edwards has overseen successful coaching and development programmes as performance director for England Golf and earlier this year he was appointed leader for Team GB golf in the Olympics in Tokyo next summer.  He’s achieved many firsts in his life but I’m sure he never expected to be the first Welshman to book his place in the Olympics!

The next home match, in 2007, was at Royal County Down, where the poster boy was Rory McIlroy.  It was the first opportunity many of us had to see at close quarters the jaunty young man who would command more media coverage and scrutiny than any other player – with the possible exception of one Mr Woods.  Running my eye down the teams at Newcastle, however, revealed a monumental amount of talent on both sides.  Consider these names, all of them instantly recognisable nowadays by golf fans:  Dustin Johnson, Ricky Fowler, Webb Simpson, Danny Willett, Billy Horschel and Kyle Stanley.  All proven winners, several of them with majors.

Royal Aberdeen in 2011 introduced us to a youngster called Jordan Spieth as well as the then No 1 amateur in the world Patrick Cantlay but I remember that match for another reason altogether.  That first morning I was making my way back to the TV compound after commentating on one of the opening foursomes matches when I heard my fellow commentator, Paul Eales, mention that one of the GB&I players, Jack Senior, had his brother, a professional, caddying for him.  My heart plummeted to my boots.

The previous evening I had read the conditions of competition prepared by the R&A and I knew that professionals were not allowed to caddy in the Walker Cup.  By the time I had reached the compound Jack Senior and his partner Andy Sullivan were just closing out their match on the 17th.  I informed our director who immediately got on to the R&A and there were a few hastily convened meetings during the turnaround between the morning and afternoon matches.  It was obvious that a clanger had been dropped in the normally meticulous R&A preparations.

The GB&I captain, Nigel Edwards, he of 2003 fame, had asked weeks earlier if Senior’s brother could caddy and had been told yes – yet here in black and white it stated that professional golfers could not caddy.  The severity of the situation was plain to see when the big chief of the R&A, Peter Dawson, came in front of camera to explain away the problem.

However, it was Jim Holtgrieve, the US captain, who saved the day and  ensured that all was smoothed over.  He refused to claim the match, which I believe would have been within his rights and graciously, and correctly, stated the match had been played in the best of spirits and he was happy for the result to stand as no advantage had been sought.  All the same, Jack Senior had to find another caddy for the remainder of the match.  And the final match score?  GB&I 14, USA 12.

The 2015 Walker Cup left me with a different memory.  There was a small knot of spectators gathered around a lone figure on the practice ground at Royal Lytham & St Anne’s on the final practice day.  This was my first sighting of Bryson DeChambeau, flat cap firmly in place and trademark high hands address position, reminiscent of the great Moe Norman’s action.  He was intense, focused and silent, not interacting with the friends and family around him.  I felt a little sorry for him.  His team mates were all on the course, yet here he was bashing balls on the range, trying to find some key, some trigger, I thought.  It’s tough to be at a big event and still be searching for your game at the eleventh hour, hence my sympathy.  Well, my sympathy was certainly misplaced and definitely not needed!  This was simply Bryson being Bryson, although at a slightly brisker pace in those days.  Even then he was ploughing his own furrow.

Yes, I’ll certainly miss being at Hoylake and having the opportunity to see these great amateurs.  It’s fun to speculate and wonder which, if any, of them will be a collector of titles, maybe even majors.  Perhaps at this point we can even still identify with them a little – they are club members after all, not touring pros and they don’t usually have huge bank balances – yet!  That’s in the future.  Enjoy them now and we’ll see where their talent and passion take them.

[Do you recognise the lads at the top of the page?  They’ve just helped win the Walker Cup at Royal Porthcawl.  Both Irish.  Jody Fanagan on the left with his mate Padraig Harrington, now Europe’s Ryder Cup captain.]

I’ve been suffering from stress this week, first-world stress admittedly but stress nonetheless.  My home insurance is up for renewal and I’m not happy with the supposedly sainted John Lewis, my current insurers, Which? recommended no less – if I’ve understood all the small print correctly, which is far from guaranteed.

The flooring in the lounge, the supposedly sainted Karndean, is rippling like the ocean wave, making me feel like Captain Pugwash and visitors who aren’t great sailors decidedly queasy.  Even copious amounts of ginger tea – good for settling landlubber tummies – haven’t helped.  There’s no getting away from it:  the floor will have to come up and that means clearing out all my stuff, a prospect to make the strongest heart quail.  My insurers?  Not interested.  Badly done; not their problem……Oh.  What’s the point of having them then?  Aren’t they there to help in times of need?…….

What’s more, according to the local broker I spoke to – face to face, hooray – if I’ve had a claim turned down, which I have, that puts me in bad odour (I paraphrase) with potential future insurers.  Oops.  Discussing the options with the broker made my head spin and when he asked me – an ageing old doll admittedly but one who’d told him that she owned a laptop, an iPad and, heaven help us, a smart phone – if I did email, that did it.  I took several deep breaths, I tried to remain calm, I eventually replied civilly in the affirmative – and then I snapped.  And took him to task.  He looked baffled.  He had no idea what he’d done, why I was taking umbrage.  He’s probably still baffled.  But if he isn’t, he’ll be a better broker.

Then, the next day, I heard the sad news that Bev Lewis had died, at the age of 71 and my insurance woes were put in their proper place, off the stress list altogether.  Bev, in her quiet, unassuming way, was a pioneer who represented all that’s good about golf, an Essex girl who gave the county a good name, not remotely showy or bombastic but staunch and steadfast, kind and patient, reliable and thoughtful, funny and passionate.  She was the girl who started on the local pitch and putt course and became the first woman to be captain of the PGA, familiar with places like Augusta National.  She bought her first driver from a junk shop; played her first round of golf in open-toed sandals; won the Essex Championship at her first attempt; turned professional as a founder member of the WPGA (now the LET); became its chairman; won a couple of times; became a coach (a PGA Master Professional), a broadcaster, a writer, an after-dinner speaker and a referee.

She wrote the foreword for Dai’s and my version of Teach Yourself Golf and said, “The image of golf is that it’s for the rich, an elitist sport and it just is not.  You know what Ken [her husband] and I see all around us in golf?  We see people having fun, so much fun and that’s what golf can be for everyone.”

Ask people about Bev and they use words like welcoming, helpful, encouraging, generous……Alan Walker, a good friend and himself a captain of the PGA, said, “I will remember her as a beacon for all that is good in a person – someone who always did the right thing, acted with courtesy, humility and professionalism and her enthusiasm for golf and life was overwhelming.  We have lost a beautiful person.”

Our hearts go out to Ken and all Bev’s family and friends.

I’ve come to the conclusion that at times like this the best we can do is enjoy our lives, cherish our family and friends  and do our best to live life to the full.  That might mean sitting in the garden watching the butterflies on the buddleia,  trekking in the Himalayas, hitting Las Vegas or helping out at the local food bank – or all of those things.  Who knows?

Yesterday I played in Whittington Heath’s Captains’ Charity AmAm, in support of Newlife, the charity for disabled children.  It was a beautiful, slightly chilly, breezy morning, the company was good, the golf was pretty good and despite a couple of dodgy holes we ended with 90 points, spot on for the format – two scores to count from four, 90 per cent of handicap, men off the white logs, women off the red with two shots added to their handicap because we’re using the men’s stroke index.  The non-golfers will have left already!  One of the game’s many authorities has an iron rule of thumb for this format:  you’ve got to average five points a hole to have a chance.

Well, we were out early and led for quite a time but in the end we were pipped by a four who finished with what can only be described as an unbelievably theatrical flourish.  The 18th, for reasons that include a new bunker that is destined for another hole, is now a par 5 for the men as well as the women and the winners surged to the top of the leaderboard with an outrageous NINE points on that one, crucial hole.  An eagle 3 and a birdie 4 by guys who both had shots did the job and we were relegated to the runners-up spot by a single point.  Hey ho.

Probably the worst part of my round was losing a precious commodity, a relative rarity – in this country at least.  Bearing in mind the prestigious occasion and the stellar company, I opted to play a new ball and chose one of the Honmas I’d been given at the AGW dinner at Portrush.  Honma’s the Japanese company with a mole in the logo and they make exceedingly expensive clubs – Justin Rose is one of their men – as well as balls.  I was three quarters hoping that the balls were also exceedingly expensive, maybe two or three times more than other balls but that doesn’t seem to be the case, although our pro’s shop doesn’t stock them.  So I just lost a ball, not the crown jewels, when I skited mine off the 7th tee into the ferns in front of my nose.

Our 7th is a longish par 3 and there are bunkers to carry if you’re to make the green.  Mostly I have to take my driver, assiduous gym work notwithstanding and yesterday there was a strong breeze against.  My last swing thought was “I could do with Jordan here” as I attempted my version of a long-drive launch and hurtled the ball off the heel into oblivion.  So much for delusions of distance.

Fortunately, Jordan Brooks, our long drive maestro, did a bit better at the latest World Championship in America and finished third.  He really is world-class.