It’s coming up to five weeks since I took a tumble when out power-walking and broke my right shoulder so, as Dad would have said, society has been on short ration for the last month.  It’s not been a particularly pleasant time – who knew growing a new bone could be so painful? – but last week saw a trip to Lichfield to visit the sister and have a much needed change of scene.  I got out for a few walks for the first time with either hubby or Patricia running interference on my right side.  It was lovely to feel slightly part of the human race again.

It won’t surprise you to learn I’ve spent a fair degree of time in front of the television and have been consumed by the golf over the last couple of weeks.  Firstly, there was the heartwarming story of Paul Waring, from up the road in Bromborough, rounding off a magnificent season with victory in the Abu Dhabi HSBC Championship.  This has assured him of a PGA Tour card next year at the grand old age of 39 and new vistas, opportunities and challenges are opening up for him at a time when many in other sports would already have hung up their boots and racquets.

Also scooping up one of those golden tickets that provides a tilt at glory Stateside is 22-year old Tom McKibbin from Rory’s club, Holywood in Norn Iron.  He’s at the other end of his career from Paul but earned his chance with ten top ten finishes and it was a timely birdie at the final hole of his 2024 campaign that inked in his name on the tenth and final card on offer.  What other sport gives two competitors separated by seventeen years of age such incentives?

By the way, Paul McGinley, former Ryder Cup captain, tournament winner and consummate student of the game, rates Tom McKibbin very highly indeed.  He thinks the sky’s the limit for the young man so I’m expecting him to make quite a mark in America,  How long, I wonder, till American commentators are dubbing him the “next Rory”?

As for the real Rory, it was an emotional one who rounded off his year with his fourth worldwide win of 2024 securing the DP World Tour Championship in Dubai, one of his favourite places.  This assured him of his sixth Race to Dubai order of merit title rivalling the one and only Seve Ballesteros, an achievement that obviously meant an enormous amount to the Irishman.  How lucky the European Tour (now the DP World Tour) is to have Rory as an ambassador.  His support of his home tour has been unswerving and his has frequently been the voice of reason during the grubbiness of the money-grabbing of the last two years in the sport.

I’m certainly not in agreement with him in everything – the reduction in field sizes and the lack of a cut in some tournaments goes against the grain with me but how refreshing to hear him declare he “would pay to play in the Ryder Cup”.  This was in response to the news emanating from across the pond that the American team will most likely be paid in the region of $400,000 each to don the red, white and blue in future matches.  There’s a vote due sometime soon at a players’ meeting so let’s see what happens.

When you are striving to climb the greasy pole of success in any business, it is frequently a case of fractions that decides the outcome.  I was keeping a weather eye on the final qualifying school in Spain, a tortuous examination of six rounds of golf that would eventually award the top twenty finishers and ties full playing rights for next season’s DP World tour.  With one round remaining I had two of my horses still up there with a great chance of success.

I had become invested in following the fortunes of Eddie Pepperell because he’s the third wheel in that wonderful podcast “The Chipping Forecast”,  alongside Andrew Cotter and Iain Carter.  Although I’ve never met Eddie I have had the pleasure of working with both Andrew and Iain and so I feel I know Eddie at least a little through them.  Heartbreakingly, he doubled his 15th hole in the final round and came up one shot shy despite a closing birdie on the 18th.  Sometimes there are just no words……..

My second horse in the race was young Irish amateur Max Kennedy, who shot a magnificent closing 64, birdieing five out of his last six holes.  Alas, it was too little too late and he, too, finished one shot away from arguably the biggest celebration of his life.  In all, 21 players earned their cards.  The rest didn’t but, depending on where they finished, some opportunities should open up.  Max has just announced he will turn pro and compete on the Challenge Tour next year where he has a full card.

Finally, I can’t close without a salute to the late Jim Farmer, aka Mr Golf, who died late last month and whom I first met back in the 1970s.  Born in St Andrews and steeped in the game from his earliest years, Jim was an outstanding player, coach and retailer who held numerous high-profile positions throughout his career.  Perhaps one he enjoyed the most was that of Honorary Professional to the Royal & Ancient golf club of St Andrews.  He described it as an easy role to fulfill because, basically, it was “eating, drinking and being merry most of the time”.

Since 1864 only six people have held this position and it takes a special person to add their name to the list.  And Jim was special – ever the gentleman.

Condolences to his friends and family.

 

 

About this time last week my lovely next-door neighbour, knowing my propensity for being peripatetic (sorry, couldn’t resist), asked me where I was off to at the weekend.  I raised my arms in suitably theatrical fashion and said, with great satisfaction:  “Absolutely nowhere.”

Mo and Brian were here, which was lovely, so we just stayed close to home and chilled.  That’s a concept that works well enough in the summer but perhaps not at this time of year, especially this week when it’s been bf (blooming freezing).  The golf course has been closed because of snow (just enough) and ice (lots), so this week’s greensomes comp was cancelled and my partner (the ladies’ captain no less) and I settled for coffee and chat (lots).

As many of you know, organisation is not one of my skills but living on your own you do have to get better at things that are not your favourite or forte, that you’d rather leave to somebody else.  So, I’ve been working my way through a long – and never-ending – list.  Not all of it important but most of it necessary.

Take the football, for instance.  That does take a bit of organising, so I was glad of the rest during the international break.  I put a couple of matches on ticket exchange – Fulham and Wolves – and they went just like that (snap of fingers).  Fulham clashes with a family do and Wolves is just after Christmas, at an awkward time for me.  The Chelsea match, which I’d love to go to, clashes with a longstanding gig with friends but a fellow Spurs supporter has laid claim to the ticket, so that’s all sorted.

We’re playing Manchester United, at our place, in the Carabao Cup quarter-final in late December and since we’re desperate to win even a tea cup, an egg cup, any cup, I’m desperate to go.      It’s not really sensible because it’s one of those Thursday night jobs, kick-off 2000, which is really no use to man nor beast.  Who cares how fans get home?   And United’s new manager, the next Special One from Portugal, apparently, will be on duty, so we’re bound to lose.

So, of course, I booked a ticket.

It’s a bit of a palaver, not least because I have to change seats – my choice because it’s extra anyway, not included in the season ticket.  I like to try different areas of the ground but, because I’m directionally challenged, getting 90 per cent of my 50-50 chances wrongs according to Dai, I often end up miles from where I thought I was going to be.

This time, if I’ve got it right, I’m right on the touch line, right by the dugouts (they’re a bit posher than that these days) and won’t be that far from the sainted Ange’s main patrolling position.  I tend to be a bit noisy, a bit exasperated, a lot encouraging and a tad vocal when I’m watching, so let’s hope the manager can cope and won’t have me ejected!  Mind you, ejected by the boss…Not a bad tale to tell.

Anyway, I’m booked in to the Lee Valley youth hostel again, so they’ll be giving me a season ticket soon; let’s hope we win without extra time or penalties and I don’t miss the last train to Cheshunt…

Spurs are away at Manchester City this Saturday, we beat them last time out (Carabao Cup game), they’ve lost their last four matches, the sainted Pep has signed a new contract, so who do you think will win?

The mighty Lambs are at home to Dagenham & Redbridge this weekend and it’s only a short – but very bumpy – bus ride to Tamworth, free for us oldies with the appropriate card.  I’m thinking of joining CAMRA (the real ale people) because the X66 stops at no fewer than FIVE pubs, four of them named stops.

Starting in Tamworth, there’s the Fire Station stop (perfect for the Tamworth Arms); then The Fox Inn; the Tame Otter; the Whittington Arms; and the Horse and Jockey.  I don’t know whether the timetable would accommodate a bus pub crawl but I know a few people who’d fancy finding out.  Mind you, finishing up at the H and J could be a bit risky  – you have to cross the road to get the bus back in to Lichfield; or stagger home in unsteady fashion.

And if you started at the H and J (not my local but a little further out), would you ever reach Tamworth?…..If you fell amongst thieves, you might not even get as far as the most intriguing stop of all:  Gagarin.  Too spaced out…

I wasn’t going to mention big-time golf at all this week – the sister is back on the case – but this photo of Rory and Harry after they swept the board in Dubai was too good to ignore.  It’s from a DP World Tour press release.

It’s always wise to finish on a high note, so here’s another cracking photo, a Mary McKenna special to savour.