All sorts of season-ending trophies, titles and bonuses are being handed out at this time of year and the professional tours have been recognising the best of the best.  Meanwhile, the amateurs up and down the land are trotting forth to try and win a Christmas turkey, braving all sorts of adverse weather conditions and perhaps being inspired by their heroes.

In this most disruptive of years in the professional game we have had some really heart-warming stories and there’s no better place to start than in the women’s game with New Zealander Lydia Ko.  Now 25 years of age, Ko amazingly has just completed her ninth season on the LPGA tour.  In her early days she swept all before her, becoming the youngest ever world No 1 back in 2015 at the tender age of seventeen.  For a while she could do no wrong but an extended period of a revolving door of instructors and caddies derailed her to the point that she slipped outside the top 60 in the world.

Many a player would have been thrilled to have owned Lydia’s record during these “off” years.  She “only” recorded two victories on the American tour between the 2016 and 2022 seasons but her work ethic and innate charm never wavered despite her travails on the course.  I remember interviewing her after one of her rounds in the 2016 Women’s Open and not looking forward to it as she had driven OB at the last and finished with a double bogey.  Players can be very thorny after a finish like that and need to be approached warily (think Colin Montgomerie or Darren Clarke or almost anybody).  Lydia, however, couldn’t have been more courteous or co-operative and added a sparkle that I wasn’t expecting.  I’ve never forgotten it.

And now she’s back to her best, tucking away a cheque for $2 million dollars last Sunday – the largest first prize in the women’s game – for winning the CME Group Tour Championship.  This was her third win of the year enabling her to scoop up the Vare Trophy for the season’s low scoring average as well as the Rolex Player of the Year award.  In her own words it has been a “dream season” and with her wedding to look forward to on December 30th it will be a year she never forgets.  She’s a class act.

Finishing runner-up to Lydia last week and pocketing the biggest cheque (US$550,000 or thereabouts) of her four and a half year professional career was another class act, Ireland’s Leona Maguire.  She notched her first LPGA victory back in February and had three other top five finishes, most notably a fourth place in the AIG Women’s Open at Muirfield.  This has all been instrumental in propelling her to a career best eleventh place in the world rankings.

Leona’s 2022 report card has not been the only positive one produced by European players, which must be very pleasing for Solheim Cup captain Suzanne Pettersen, who is undoubtedly already sizing up the contenders for the match in Spain in September.  For golf fans from these islands the maiden LPGA wins of Jodi Ewart Shadoff and Gemma Dryburgh were real high points, as was Charley Hull winning for the second time on the American tour. There was also continued good play from Celine Boutier and Georgia Hall, two stalwarts of last year’s Solheim victory.

The ever reliable Swedish production line seems to be rolling along nicely with the phenomenal new talents of Linn Grant and Maja Stark and I was particularly pleased to see Anna Nordqvist finish highly last week after a difficult season.  So, all in all, I’d suggest that it’s quite a rosy picture for captain Pettersen to contemplate.

And perhaps things aren’t quite so bad for Luke Donald either as he ponders his selections for the Ryder Cup, also being played next September and also a home European fixture.  Rory reigns supreme, having climbed the world ranking mountain to the No 1 spot again, at the same time finishing top on both sides of the Atlantic.  In my, clearly unbiased, opinion he has been No 1 both on and off the course, assuming the role of chief spokesman on behalf of the PGA tour and its players in the ongoing LIV saga.

Sterling performances from Matt Fitzpatrick, the US Open champ, the ever formidable Jon Rahm, and the resurgence of Tommy Fleetwood, Dubai’s newest resident, will surely gladden Donald’s heart.  And whenever he casts his eyes towards American shores, he’ll see Ireland’s Seamus Power sitting proudly atop the standings.

Seamus has had a golden month, starting with winning for the second time on the PGA tour at Bermuda.  He followed this up by being in contention in his next two starts, finishing third and fifth and growing ever more comfortable in the heat of being in contention.  It’s a long time till the Ryder Cup in Rome but it’s a great start.

Viktor Hovland, Shane Lowry, Alex Noren and Tyrrell Hatton will all surely be noted in Donald’s little black book but I’m sure he’ll also consider the super talented Hojgaard twins from Denmark and Scots Ewen Ferguson, Richie Ramsey and Bob McIntyre.

Perhaps Europe’s Ryder Cup team will be less affected by the LIV desertions than the Americans.  After all, who are we losing?  Sergio, Westwood, Poulter, Casey…?  All in their forties with, dare I say it, their best golf behind them.  On the other hand the Americans will be without DJ, Koepka, Dechambeau, Patrick Reed and Phil Mickelson, all but the latter potentially in their prime.  Somehow, come Rome, I don’t think we the golf fans will be giving any of the aforementioned a single passing thought – we’ll be caught up yet again in an enthralling Ryder Cup tussle.  So, no, we won’t miss them.

I started with a Kiwi and can’t finish without the mention of another Kiwi, Ryan Fox, who finished runner-up to Rory in the DP World Tour rankings.  His has been an outstanding year which is all the more heartwarming coming after difficult Covid years when he could barely get back home to see his wife and young family, so difficult was it to travel in and out of his native land.  It seemed like he was in contention every week – two wins, four seconds and a third place bear testament to that – and a meteoric rise from 213th in the world rankings at the start of the season to 27th (one ahead of Seamus) assures him of starts in all the majors for 2023.  His is a very well-deserved off-season.

I must add one PS for fear of not being allowed back into Ireland if I don’t mention Padraig Harrington’s stupendous maiden campaign on the US Seniors’ tour.  With four wins under his belt there was no one to touch him…..except Steven Alker, who also notched four victories and played golf of the highest order.

And, oh yes, Alker is another Kiwi.  There’s clearly been some sort of magic dust sprinkled on the men and women from the land of the long, white cloud in 2022.  Wonder if we could bottle it too?

Congratulations all.

I wasn’t going to start with golf but I’ve played twice this week and only got drenched the once.  Even then we nearly made it – the serious rain started about four holes from home and didn’t become torrential until we were leaving the 16th and making the trek to our monstrous 17th.

I say monstrous because for those of us of moderate hitting ability, it is a long, long way, especially coming where it does.  The card says it’s a relatively modest 441 yards from the red tees, one yard shorter than the 18th, which is a completely different animal.  If it was the 5th, say, or the 9th, it wouldn’t have such a psychological effect, it wouldn’t seem so long or so daunting.  As the second last, uphill, into the lashing rain (no exaggeration, I’ve got the sodden gear to prove it) and a wind that even Dad would have conceded was a mite stronger than a zephyr and on the official Beaufort scale would register at least as a strong breeze (umbrellas used with difficulty, among other things)….In short, it’s a brute.

Several holes earlier my partner and I looked around and wondered where everybody was; it looked as though we were the only people left on the golf course, bar the fourball behind us; what was it that we didn’t know?  Was the foul weather forecast sending them heading for cover, taking no chances?  Were we bonkers to be still ploughing on, nipping and tucking, never more than one hole between us?  It would seem that the answer was “Yes”!

When I got home, I put comfort before economics and switched on the heating several hours early.  Then it was off to Specsavers to order some new glasses as a matter of urgency – rather belatedly admittedly.  The updated prescription was written in January but I stuck with the old specs until I had no choice.  And thereby hangs a tale.

My main pair disappeared a few weeks ago, presumed missing in the North Sea or buried deep on Warkworth beach, Northumberland way, so I was reduced to my reserve pair.  They were ok, if a bit flimsy but as it turned out a wonderfully effective camouflage colour – green and brown frames, impossible to spot, by me anyway.  The house has been turned upside down and still no sign of the buggers.  I’ve looked under the sofas, chairs, bed, in the hotpress, the fridge, every cupboard, the rubbish bag, every pocket of every jacket/coat, everywhere I can think of – and still no sign.

Of course, now that I’ve chosen and ordered my new specs, the old ones are bound to turn up.  Until then, I’m doing most things specless.  Not so long ago, in a fit of decluttering, I rounded up my old glasses and handed them over to charity, so, apart from a pair of reading glasses, that’s it.  Fortunately, my sun specs have an insert that allows me to drive without peering and at night I’m cadging lifts with friends who can see – or whose squinting is closer to 20-20 than mine.

Many years ago Gary Wolstenholme, much capped by England and GB and I, a man who has always marched to the beat of his own drum, talked about biorhythms, to the bafflement of most of his listeners.  If he played badly, it was often down to the old biorhythms being out of synch or out of kilter or, simply, out of rhythm.  Everybody has days – or, in my case, sometimes, weeks – of being a bit off for no apparent reason;  those times when you think that maybe you shouldn’t be allowed out on your own and I, shortsighted as ever but more open-minded, am beginning to think that Gary was onto something with his biorhythms…

The other night mine certainly went missing or were on a go slow or whatever they do when friends, having a rest from bridge, introduced me to Balderdash.  It’s a word game and we journalists, retired or not, are meant to have a way with words…Guess who finished dead last?  Well behind my four opponents, trailing all the way, bluffed from the first throw of the die (there’s only one) to the last.

The Scrabblers in the company thought they’d add new words to their armoury but of course, being the age we are (that’s our excuse), we could barely remember the words or their meaning a few goes later.  Did you know – none of us got this right not even the horsey person – that rataplan is the sound of a horse galloping?  Well, it’s a drumming sound, from the French, according to my trusty Chambers and it does have a classier ring to it than clippity clop.

Whatever – and this is not in my dictionary – we had an evening that was positively gelogenic.  That’s something that makes you laugh, apparently and there was no apparently about it – we roared from start to finish.

And, red wine notwithstanding, we stayed dry.