This week Annika Sorenstam, one of golf’s greats, is playing in the US Women’s Open at Pine Needles Lodge and Golf Club (above) in North Carolina.  It’s the first time she has teed it up in this championship since she “stepped away from the game” in 2008 and it wasn’t something that was ever really on her radar until she was victorious in last year’s US Senior Women’s Open.  That gave her an automatic spot into this field and she decided to take it, principally to continue inspiring and encouraging the next generation of golfers.

At the age of 51  Sorenstam has nothing to prove to anyone.  Ten majors are scattered throughout her 72 LPGA victories and in the last fourteen years since she stopped playing seriously she has excelled in business and done what she wanted to most of all, that is, settle down and have a family.  And now she wants her children to see her play for real, not just on grainy old television broadcasts.

There’s another reason why playing at Pine Needles is irresistible to her.  Back in 1995 Annika broke through for her first win in America by landing the big one, the US Women’s Open.  In 1996 she came to Pine Needles to defend her title at the course owned and run by the renowned Peggy Kirk Bell and her family, with whom Annika was forging a strong bond.  The Swede was once again successful and admits that for a number of reasons, not least her relationship with Peggy, who was a veritable tour de force in the women’s game, Pine Needles is very special to her.  Hence the commitment to return and compete this week.

I never did get the opportunity to play golf with Annika.  She turned pro and played her first season on the Ladies’ European Tour in 1993, the year I was out with a bad back and subsequently had surgery.  In 1994 she was off to the LPGA and rocketing out of my orbit but I got to know her through Solheim Cups and later via various broadcasting duties of mine.

For all her success and seeming assuredness the very shy young girl still lurks within.  There are well documented stories of early Swedish training camps where Annika used to make sure she never won, always finishing second so she wouldn’t have to make a winner’s speech.  Pia Nilsson, the national coach, spotted this and wisely decreed the first two place finishers should both make speeches.  After that Annika decided she might as well try and win because it was likely she was going to have to speak anyway.

 

There are still traces of that shyness in her.  In early 2015 Annika was one of seven women invited to be an honorary member of the R&A.  This was groundbreaking stuff, bringing to an end 260 years of male-only membership.  However, it wasn’t until the Open in July that year that Annika was able to visit St Andrews for the first time as a member of the club.  When she arrived I happened to be on the eighteenth, having just completed a full recce of the course and its condition in preparation for the week’s broadcasting.  Obviously relieved to see a familiar face she hurried over to me and explained this was her first visit since becoming a member and what should she do about gaining access to the clubhouse?

I looked over to the front door of the club and saw an imposing, uniformed doorman on duty who was challenging all who approached.  Annika obviously didn’t wish to run the gauntlet of facing him on her own so I grabbed her arm, propelled her over and introduced her to this imposing gent, informing him she was a new member.  He morphed into full welcoming mode and she was ushered in, disappearing from my view as I returned to the course to finish my work.  At that moment it was rather useful that in a former life as a student at St Andrews I had actually worked as a waitress in the clubhouse, so I wasn’t quite as daunted as some!

I remember being surprised at the great Annika having this degree of insecurity that she wouldn’t march up to the door on her own.  On reflection, however, I found it illuminating that despite being a world-famous, one-name legend, there wasn’t an ounce of arrogance in her body.  She didn’t assume that she would be recognised or that she would gain entry without some kind of explanation.  I can’t imagine she would ever utter the “Don’t you know who I am?” phrase.

It was quite touching, in a humbling kind of way, to learn that underneath it all she is just like the rest of us.  Well, at least a little bit.

 

I read a stat somewhere that said that a huge number of people don’t wear their clothes very much; not that they’re naturists, it’s just that they wear a lot of stuff just two or three times before ditching it.  Goodness knows who worked that out and how but they certainly didn’t talk to me.  I like to get my cost-per-wearing numbers down to the 0.0001 region and I’m pretty successful at it.

Some less than kind friends might suggest that that’s because I only buy cheap and cheerful, preferably in the sales but that’s not entirely fair.  And it’s not difficult for me to prove how old some of my gear is because a lot of it is dated – literally.  The little number from Pine Needles has 1996 writ large, which stretches my maths near its limits (in my defence I don’t do much mental arithmetic these days) – and shocks me to the core when I realise how long ago it was.  Was I really there?

That’s when Annika Sorenstam won her second US Women’s Open (she won her first as a very raw rookie the year before, helped by a bit of a collapse from Meg Mallon, if memory serves) and if you look very closely, with the aid of your magnifying glass, you’ll see that it was the 51st edition of the championship.  This week, back in North Carolina at Pine Needles, a close neighbour of the even more celebrated Pinehurst – the whole area is a little bit of golfing heaven – it’s the 77th championship.  Eek.  How did that happen?

In 1996, the prize money was $1 million; this year it’s a record $10 million as the USGA (United States Golf Association) do their bit to boost the women’s game, putting their money where their mouth is, with the help of the presenting sponsor Promedica.  It can’t do the women’s cause any harm that the USGA’s chief executive officer is Mike Whan, immediate past commissioner of the LPGA (Ladies’ Professional Golf Association).

Of course that sum, large as it is, is put in the halfpenny place by next week’s first LIV Golf Invitational Series event at the Centurion Golf Club, “a superior private golfing facility” (to quote its website) near St Albans.  Only 48 players in the field, only 54 holes, no cut, so substantial guaranteed money even for the man finishing last and $4 million for the winner.  Sounds exciting…

It’s Saudi money, with all that entails but with the sums on offer it’s hardly surprising that players, particularly those on the way down or tired of the grind or in need of security or desperate for cash or whatever, have signed up:  people like Dustin Johnson, Graeme McDowell, Lee Westwood, Ian Poulter, Louis Oosthuizen, Charles Schwarzel and Martin Kaymer, to name just a few.  Who knows how it’ll all pan out but at the end of the day (aaagh, did I really write that?) does it really matter, does anyone care?  Perhaps they’ll pay spectators to go and watch.

Golf, the game, will survive and the poor will still be with us.  Why should that be, by the way?  Just asking.

Back down at the club level, I played a match the other day and was comprehensively tonked by a young woman who was a 48 handicapper not so long ago.  She’s 22 now (playing, I think, though I’ve given up on the overly complicated system that means hardly anyone I know has a clue what their handicap is) and I had to give her EIGHT shots.

Now, given her inexperience and lack of play, my opponent was not guaranteed to win but given her innate ability and the way she played on the day, I did well to keep the match going until the 14th green.  She doesn’t have a driver and uses an ancient Cobra baffler (18 degrees of loft), inherited from her father, off the tee.

Our new 2nd is a par 5 for us women, 428 yards, which is certainly a three-shotter for me but Laura belted her baffler miles and launched a 6-iron (an ancient Mitsushiba Stealth inherited from her grandmother) onto the front of the green.  The fourball in front (who let us through a few holes later – thank you gentlemen) didn’t notice the ball until they were leaving the green and were obviously puzzled by it.  Laura hurried up to apologise and explain that she hadn’t expected to hit it that far.  Two excellent putts later, she was 1 up, birdied the next, where she had a shot – and I was anticipating an early lunch.

In September, Laura is off to Liverpool to study anatomy and human biology and I hope she finds time to play a bit of golf on some of the great courses in the area and enjoy the game and the competition.

It’s the Curtis Cup next week, at Merion in Ardmore, Pennsylvania and the best of luck to the GB and I captain Elaine Ratcliffe and her team, who have their work cut out to regain the trophy.  The Americans won comfortably enough at Conwy, in north Wales, last year (Covid disrupted the biennial aspect of the competition) and, as usual, will start as favourites.

There’ll be a small contingent of past players travelling from this side of the pond and no doubt there’ll be a tribute to Mary Everard, who died last Saturday after a long illness.  I didn’t really know Mary except by reputation – though I once nearly played golf with her and her then husband John Laupheimer at Pinehurst No 2 (thereby hangs a very long tale).

She played in four Curtis Cups, in 1970, 1972, 1974 and 1978 and won more than her fair share of matches in a losing cause.  She was a member of Hallamshire and quite a player, winning the British Strokeplay in 1970 and the English Championship in 1972 among other titles.  She played in the Vagliano Trophy, the Commonwealth Tournament, the Espirito Santo and several European Team Championships.  She deserves to be remembered.

It’s the Memorial Tournament this week, at Muirfield Village, Jack’s place in Ohio and Dai should still be there, his plaque hanging on the wall in the press/media centre, whatever it’s called these days.