As I watched the hordes of spectators jostling for position outside the ropes at Wentworth last week at the BMW PGA Championship it reminded me of the halcyon days, in the 1980s I think, when Mum and I attended a few World Matchplay events there.  I think the sponsors at that time were Suntory, a Japanese whisk(e)y firm, and a wee nip of the sponsor’s product was always welcome on those crisp, autumnal mornings in October.

Dad was still slogging away at the coalface of employment and Patricia was………..well, goodness knows where – possibly covering the fledgling Ladies’ European Tour, so it was treasured time for me with Mum, who, according to the family, was an expert in all things in general and golf in particular!  (I thought I’d better finish that sentence with an exclamation so that you wouldn’t take that last remark in the least bit seriously.)  She always was an entertaining companion and a keen and wily golf spectator, knowing exactly how to move around the course to get the best view of every shot.  We’d tramp round 36 holes a day, love every second of it and then get up and do it all again the next day.  No need for a gym subscription way back then.

Wentworth, at the Matchplay, was also the first place I ever wore wellie boots on a golf course.  The going outside the ropes could get a little soft and wellies were just the job.  It’s where we jointly discovered that if going downhill on a slippery slope it was best to go on your toes.  That way, your heel couldn’t shoot out from underneath you depositing you on your backside.  Balance was more easily maintained on tiptoe.  You see – it IS possible to learn something from even the most shallow of blogs!  As Billy Connolly so succinctly put it, “If it wisnae fur yer wellies, where wud ye be?”

Those were great days with Mum and long before I had any thoughts of there being a smidgeon of a possibility that I might one day work in golf for the BBC.  When that became a reality, the accompanying accreditation allowed for access to the hallowed ground inside the ropes at big tournaments where the view is second to none.

It brought home to me just how hard golf fans have to work to see their idols.  If you like to follow a particular group or a specific player, there’s no comfy seat from which to view the world’s best parade past you.  No, out you go in all weathers, ducking and diving, constantly on the go before standing still for ages for microscopic green-reading and the like.  Peter Alliss always said the golfing galleries were the most patient and accepting of all sports spectators.  They pay a lot for the privilege of being told when to stand still, when to keep quiet and their very existence seems to be ruled entirely by a single strand of rope and being on the correct side of it.

In return, they do have the opportunity to get very close indeed to the best golfers in the world – far closer than other fans would get to the protagonists in other sports, footballers, cricketers, tennis players and the like.  And, oh my, should you have the good fortune to be struck by a stray golf ball, you may even rise to the dizzy heights of receiving a signed glove from the player.  Be still my beating heart!

As I write this blog my phone has just pinged, warning me that the latest episode of The Chipping Forecast, with Andrew Cotter, Eddie Pepperell and special guest Iain Carter, has just landed.  It’s a great listen and I urge you to subscribe to it and make it part of your week.  I guarantee it’ll liven up any grey afternoon when you can’t get out on the golf course.

Wentworth was where I first met and worked with Andrew.  He was a young sports commentator but at that point hadn’t had the opening to have a go at any golf, his first love.  I was considered reasonably experienced as a summariser at this juncture and was told by the producer I would be working with this “new guy” and to “look after him”.  I could see he was very nervous, more than a trifle uptight and not disposed to chat much as we made our way up the 1st.  We were both working for 5 Live at the time and at the first green they came to Andrew for an update.

I stood next to him as he delivered the first of  what has now probably become hundreds of thousands of golf reports.  He did beautifully but had a little stumble over a word or two.  As the broadcast moved on to someone else Andrew was distraught.  He banged his head with his hand, declared there was nothing he wanted to do more than join the golf team and that he’d blown his chance.  I was astounded but tried to reassure him that that was certainly not the case.  I was soon to learn that a young Cotter was angst-ridden, never quite believing in his own abilities, and that his desire for perfection led to astronomical amounts of research and soul-searching.

It was apparent to most of those who worked with him that he had the talent and ability to forge his way to an outstanding career and if there is currently a better golf commentator on the planet, I don’t know them.  And I know, not all, but a great number of them.  And it’s not just golf.  He is simply brilliant right across the board, from adeptly hosting Olympic opening and closing ceremonies with Hazel Irvine to explaining the intricacies of rugby where you can’t see the ball for about 80 per cent of the time.

One of the reasons I love the aforementioned podcast is because with his two co-hosts he seems completely relaxed and able to be himself.  With his dry humour he pokes fun at himself and his “dark side” as well as at all and sundry.  Eddie (who had a season’s best finish of joint 12th at Wentworth) and Iain, 5 Live’s much respected golf correspondent, make up a perfect podcast trio with their stream of consciousness chat and inability to take themselves seriously.  Eddie is almost as droll as Andrew and I laughed out loud when he recounted how he’d tossed a ball to a little lad as he left the 7th green at Wentworth last week.  Said lad tossed it straight back!

Well done, that boy!

 

The blog’s being done early this week because Thursday was due to be a busy day:  dental hygienist at 0900 (who on earth thought that was a good idea); osteopath at 1130 (essential routine maintenance); then trip to Spurs by train via Euston and Cheshunt) for kick-off at 2000, a Europa League gig against Qarabag.

This football really is a bit of an education.  I confess I had no idea who Qarabag were or where they were from, so at least I’m a bit better informed now.  They operate out of Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan, where the F1 grand prix circus pitched up a couple of weeks ago.  Spurs won’t have to go there because UEFA, in their wisdom, have dispensed with the old two-legged home and away system.

Now, let me get this right, more or less.  There are nine teams in a group and they play eight matches, against eight different teams, four home and four away.  We play Qarabag, AZ Alkmaar, Roma and Elfsborg at home and Rangers, Ferencvaros, Galatasaray and Hoffenehim away.  As far as I can tell, our opponents in this group don’t play each other, so comparisons will be tricky.

I haven’t a clue why they changed the format (apart from money of course) and it’ll be fascinating, even for perennially confused non-geeks like me, to see how it all pans out.  In the meantime, here’s to much checking of websites and poring over the atlas with a glass of red in hand as my geography improves match by match – and, possibly, my pronunciation if not my use of accents (as in the proper spelling of a lot of the names).   Enough already, let’s move swiftly on.

As some of you already know, my routes to the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, tucked away in N17, have been many and varied and this week I’m trying something new:  a stay at Lee Valley youth hostel, special offer, just two minutes’ walk from Cheshunt station they assure me.  Train straight from Cheshunt to White Hart Lane station, just two minutes’ walk from the ground.  Et voila.  And plenty of trains back after the game, fingers crossed.

A Welsh reader who comes from Llandudno wondered how come their home town has given its name to the Llandudno International Trophy, awarded to the winners of the PGA Cup, the now biennial match between the club professionals of the United States and Great Britain and Ireland.  I turned first to Wikipedia, then to the PGA (Professional Golfers’ Association), to confirm the details.

The members of Maesdu GC had the idea of a match between teams from England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, to bring publicity to the area and in 1939, England won the first – and only – Home Tournament Series and the rather handsome trophy.  World War II put paid to any more matches and Percy Alliss, father of Peter and captain of the England team, kept the trophy until he and Peter donated it to the PGA in 1972.  It made its second competitive appearance the following year, at the inaugural PGA Cup match at Pinehurst No 2.  A lovely footnote to the Alliss connection is that Gary, Peter’s son, was the GB and I captain in 2007 and 2009.

Maureen and most of my friends are horrified that I regard a total of 191 unread emails as normal and more or less manageable.  They’re inclined to freak out if their tally reaches double figures and I accept that perhaps I should do away with a goodly number of the newsletters that sit there for days waiting for me to read them.  Trouble is, you just never know when some gem will pop up and provide all the inspiration a desperate, head-scratching blogger needs.

However, I would be reluctant to unsubscribe from SportPursuit, Houzz Magazine, National Club Golfer, GolfPass and the daily video tips that I always mean to study but rarely do, Saga Magazine, Golf Features, Documentally (which is usually way above my head, Irish Golf Desk (thank you Brian K for keeping me up to date), Confused.com and Which and on and on.  Perhaps a serious de-clutter is indeed in order.

But it won’t include Wordsmith.org and its A.Word.A.Day with Anu Garg, which I highly recommend.  And I loved one of this week’s (A) Thought For Today, quoting the American novelist William Faulkner:  “A writer needs three things, experience, observation, and imagination, any two of which, at times any one of which, can supply the lack of the others.”

That’s so encouraging for an unimaginative bod like me who needs all the inspiration and encouragement she can get.  I’ll never be a novelist or a poet like some of my talented friends, one of whom was runner-up in the Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing 2024 – so I gleaned from Facebook.  Many congrats Sharon.

And congrats also to Rosie J, who has another book of poetry coming out early next year.

I’m in awe.

 

Finally, the March of the Elephants auction at Lichfield Cathedral, which was on Tuesday evening (not Sunday, as I rather foolishly thought – other services have priority then), raised £125,000 for St Giles Hospice.  As reported on the Lichfield Live website, Elinor Eustace, the interim CEO of St Giles, said, “It was a fantastic night and thank you to the whole community for their support, it really does make a difference.

“With hospices across the UK facing a £77 million funding deficit and St Giles grappling with a £1.5 million annual shortfall, events like the auction are more than just fundraisers – they’re lifelines.”