After the fun last week at the last major of the year, the AIG Women’s Open at Porthcawl, I thought that that was our lot as regards exciting golf to watch until we hit the Ryder Cup at the end of September – and most of you are aware of my reservations about that particular event.  Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Last Sunday Justin Rose was scintillating over the back nine, as well as in the ensuing three play-off holes, managing to best J J Spaun, the current holder of the US Open title, and win the FedEx St Jude Championship.  Said championship is the first of a trio of tests that make up the FedEx Cup play-off series.

A little while ago Justin himself said he was hoping for a golden autumn to his career but I think he’s forgotten that and he now looks more like a player in his prime than he does a 45-year old hoping for a couple of decent showings now and again.  He has managed to avoid significant injury over the years, which is key, and he has remained competitive, focussed and professional.

Many of his peers (Messrs Poulter, Casey, McDowell, Garcia, Stenson and Westwood spring to mind) must surely look on enviously from the good ship Liv-i-pop and wish they could trade places with Justin.  Money means nothing to these boys – they have pots of it already, untold millions in fact.  The common denominator is that, at heart, they are all highly competitive and the cushy, no-jeopardy Liv golf scene doesn’t breed champions – they simply wither away faster than is necessary.  Carbon doesn’t turn into a diamond without significant pressure.

Justin and Fooch (Mark Fulcher, his caddie) are a great team and I was witness to the start of their time together at the Players’ Championship in 2008.  Having known Fooch for many years when he caddied on the women’s tour I felt excited for him and helpfully instructed him on the Wednesday evening “not to stuff it up”.  They missed the cut.

It didn’t take long for them to hit their stride, however, and apart from a couple of breaks – most notably when Fooch had heart surgery – they have remained a solid partnership ever since.

Despite being delighted for Justin I couldn’t help but feel for Tommy Fleetwood who finished one shot out of the play-off.  He is still searching for that elusive first win on the PGA Tour and I could almost feel his angst and disappointment oozing through the screen.  I have heard the word “choker” bandied about a bit.  I don’t think Tommy needs to be too concerned about that.  After all, it was a label given to Tom Watson for a long spell before he got it over the line.  He didn’t do too badly.

It takes tremendous courage to keep putting yourself out there in the goldfish bowl of professional sport and I’ve no doubt it’ll pay off.  Keep going, keep believing, Tommy.

The PGA Tour has done its best to instil a modicum of excitement into these seasonal play-offs with, quite frankly, a singular lack of success.  Their attempts to wow American sports fans during the month of August, in the quiet time before the great beast of  NFL football lumbers into view, have met with limited success.  Numerous formats have been given an airing since 2007 but they have not sparked the fan fanaticism enjoyed by the core sports of American football, baseball and basketball.

It’ll be interesting to see how the new commissioner of the tour, Brian Rolapp, who himself comes from an NFL background, tackles this particular thorny problem.  I imagine that Mr Rolapp will have quite an extensive to-do list once the hand-over period comes to an end next year.

I’m not holding my breath but I’d love to see a number of things happen:  the end of limited field events with no cuts;  the introduction of a “tournament” ball that flies much shorter thus bringing some of the older, classic courses back to being relevant;  application of slow play penalties;  reduced sales of alcohol at the majors and Ryder Cup and, possibly, elsewhere.  I could go on (and frequently do) but that’ll do for starters.  If the PGA tour were behind a few of these initiatives they would have more chance of being adopted globally.

I know, I know.  It’s naive and foolish and not in the interests of the top players and sponsors so it’ll never happen – but I can dream, can’t I?  If I were Queen for a day……………………!

If I were Queen for longer than a day I would do more of what I did in the middle of the week.  I joined two special girls for lunch on what must have been one of the hottest days of the year.  The two in question were Olive and Mabel, the lovable labradors who, according to the blurb on Amazon, “broke the internet with more than 50 million views on social media”.  Fame does go to some folks’ heads but not these two.  They were delightful, willing to engage (mostly) and good lunch companions (they didn’t try to eat off my plate).  They also gave me a tour of their extensive, lovely garden.

It was hard to tell but I think they quite liked me.  Anyway, I must have passed muster because we have agreed to schedule in a future lunch date.

Can’t wait.

Imagine the scene.  This Spurs fan, staying with friends, did not watch the match against the mighty Paris St Germain, in Udine, our goalie’s home town.  It was for something called the UEFA Super Cup and I was thinking 5-nil to them would be a bit of a (good) result for us.

Anyway, late on I sneaked a peek at the phone and saw, shock beyond shocks, that we were leading 2-nil with not long to go.  Blimey.  Another quick peek and we were leading 2-1; that’ll do, well done us, against probably the best team in Europe, though not invincible – Chelsea had beaten them in some nonsensical, exhausting, money-making competition in America a few weeks earlier.

I climbed the stairs to bed happy, if slightly stunned.

Then I saw it, the message from the Dublin Spurs tragic:  AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHH.

A bit of a funny reaction to a great result thinks I.

On closer inspection I see that it was 2-all at full time (always look for the letters FT under the result) and we had conceded an equaliser in the 94th minute, then lost 4-3 on penalties.  So it was PSG leppin’ around like eejits brandishing yet another trophy….

Ah well, time for Dad again:  every result makes somebody happy.  And top of the list will be all those Arsenal and Chelsea fans who’ve got so used to lording it over us.  Piddle, as one of the aunts used to say whenever something displeased her.  There were stronger words used up in the bedroom and a bit of (quiet) stomping about and arm waving and grimacing.

Still, Denise in Dublin remains optimistic, as all football fans have to at this stage of the proceedings – at any stage of the proceedings really.  “Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory,” she reported.  “Still tho’ we were real good, a bit blunt up front….but we defended admirably – very well organised.  We will learn from this, lots of green shoots…”

To be honest (as a general rule, never, ever hear that phrase without the alarm bells starting to ping), I’m a wee bit annoyed that I’m starting to have to pay attention to the footie at the height of summer and plan my first journey to north London when the temperature is soaring towards the 30s.  It won’t be leaves on the line, it’ll be track on the melt, overheating.

So, whatever, roll on Burnley this Saturday afternoon.  COYS.

Thursday saw a welcome return to Woburn, to play golf on the Dukes course, in the senior captain’s charity day in aid of  Willen Hospice.  There was a time when Woburn was like a second home to the golf writers, with so many tournaments there.  The hospitality was second to none, with Alex Hay as mein host, ably aided and abetted by a host of people who knew what they were doing – and more – including Glenna Bonallack (now Beasley), a woman with an impeccable golfing pedigree.

The golf wasn’t bad either and I was reminded of the days when the (women’s) Ford Classic kicked off the season – in the days when the men’s season really started properly in April, with the Masters.  So, there was loads of coverage of Woburn in the newspapers (remember them) and people flooded to watch luminaries like Laura Davies and Helen Alfredsson and catch Annika Sorenstam and Karrie Webb at the very start of their illustrious careers.  Heady, happy days.

One year, when Ford gave away loads of tickets at their dealerships all over the country, there were so many people trying to get to Woburn that there were long traffic jams on the M1, all because of the women’s golf.  It made the national news and was the most brilliant publicity.  Then some not-so-bright spark decided to move the tournament to Chart Hills in Kent, where there was neither the infrastructure nor the expertise; the crowds, unsurprisingly, didn’t follow and it was all downhill from there.

Now, here’s a question for you.  Steve, of the bushy white eyebrows, is very protective of them but has said he’d have them shaved off for charity.  The only catch is that his minimum rate would be £10,000 – and even then he’d not guarantee that he’d agree.  So, how do we make him an offer he can’t refuse?  And can we guarantee that those eyebrows will grow back in the same profusion?  If there are any hairdressers or barbers or other eyebrow experts out there, please help.

Now for a photo that I meant to use a while ago.  Mo and I bumped into Nicola Wilson-Bowen, aka barefootnic, at Porthcawl and she’s going barefoot for a year, to raise money for (and awareness of) MIND, the mental health charity, in memory of her sister Tracy.  I think she’s giving daily updates of her progress on Instagram – @vegannic79.  We met her on a particularly flinty path on the golf course and she was coping remarkably well, a few weeks in to her challenge.  Wishing her the very best of luck – and wondering if she’ll ever wear shoes again.

Finally, a rather poor pic, taken by me, when Spurs visited Tamworth, the mighty Lambs, in the third round of the FA Cup in January.  It’s of our esteemed captain Son Heung-min, Sonny, who has now left the club after ten wonderful years and is playing his football in Los Angeles.  Thank you Sonny and all the best for the future.