Allow me to begin this week’s blog with a little housekeeping and tidying up of results of significant events we touched upon a couple of weeks back, BRSM – Before Rory’s Second Masters.

The first of these was the Roehampton Gold Cup which celebrated its centenary two weekends ago and, to all intents and purposes, the Roehampton Club did itself proud.  Caroline Scallon of the host club and friend and provider of news of the event sent me the following synopsis:-

“The Pro-Am went well on Friday on a decent warm and dry day.  Good time had by all and our visiting professionals so pleased to catch up with each other again.

The Gold Cup was less fortunate with the weather which was cold – with about an hour of rain and strengthening wind from 0900.  But everyone cold, wind tricky and greens fast – about 10.6.”

There’s no doubt that 36 holes in those conditions was a stern test, one which newly-minted professional Luca Thompson took in her stride.  Scores of 73 and 74 for a 147 total gave her a two-stroke victory over Annabel Fuller and Lauren Horsford and perhaps most importantly, her first win as a professional.  This is a very encouraging start for the 2025 Welsh champion whose Dad, Zac, is a PGA professional and former coach to Ian Poulter.  Shortly after the above photograph was taken Luca made a mad dash to Heathrow to catch a flight to Johannesburg to play in the Ladies’ European Tour event there.

It’ll be fun following her career.

Almost, but not quite, overshadowing the Gold Cup itself was the very special past players’ lunch with guest of honour, Scottish legend, Belle Robertson (above in the front row, third from left) celebrating her ninetieth birthday that very same day.  The club presented her with a beautiful birthday cake and Belle presented back to the club her winning prize in 1978 of a pewter claret jug, which now resides in one of the club’s memorabilia displays.

Although she would deny it Belle is a bit of a mentor to Bob MacIntyre and has played a fair bit of golf with him.  Her interest in the game is as keen as ever and, from what I hear, her skills are still pretty sharp.

From one successful Scot taking centre stage at Roehampton, let’s take a jump to yet more successful Scots who this year hoisted aloft the Mary McKenna Salver at Royal Portrush.  This was the 25th playing of a Senior Women’s International match between Scotland and Ireland and it was only the third occasion on which the visitors had won away from home.  Seems to me like the Irish hospitality was more than generous!

Shortly after her visit to Portrush the Irish golfing legend that is McKenna boarded a flight from Dublin and landed with quite a thump at Liverpool airport in order to spend a week with me and catch up on a few more pals.

We reunited with her 1974 Curtis Cup teammate, Mo Richmond (nee Walker) who had cycled the 15 miles or so to our appointed lunch meeting place.  With golf thin on all our agendas these days, Mary and I were very interested to hear that Mo had taken up sketching in her spare time, particularly in the winter.  She professed to be not particularly good at it and it took a good deal of pressing before she reluctantly showed us, on her phone, a few of her efforts.

Wow!  They were great!  And what was even more amazing, she was using some of Mary’s wonderful photographs as her subjects.  Partners in golf, partners in photography and sketching.  The connection is never lost.

Over the next few days we ventured into Wales, the land of the dragon, spending a lovely afternoon in Wrexham golf club with Pam Valentine and Lesley Brown, companions in our group at the last Curtis Cup at Sunningdale.  That last time the four of us had been together we had had to evacuate our hotel in Egham with fire alarms blaring, but with a conspicuous lack of  fire engines or, thankfully, fire.  This was a much more peaceful reunion.

With the weather set fair for our whole week and with beautiful sunny skies overhead, we simply had to turn westwards and head towards Harlech to visit Jill and Alan Edwards.  It’s arguably the most scenic spot in the country, even on the bleakest of days but it was perfectly idyllic for our trip.

There’s not much in golf that Jill hasn’t achieved – either on the playing or administrative side.  Champion of her country, captain of various international teams, including British & Irish ones, and chairman and selector at the highest of levels all added up to being awarded an MBE for her services to the sport.  Thoroughly deserved.

Meandering around the place with the mighty Mary McKenna is a total treat.  She’s like a bottle of tonic for everyone we visit and it struck me yet again how fortunate I am to know and count all these amazing people as my friends.

Next stop Lichfield, the Three Spires and one very resigned Spurs fan.

Visitors, important visitors, are coming to stay with me in Lichfield this weekend, so, of course, as usual, the place is in disarray and I’m beginning to panic.  Earlier in the week, I was calm and relaxed enough to think that I had several days to get ready, even allowing for golf on Tuesday.  No sweat.  Now, with barely half a day left and a blog to do, there’s a hint of perspiration and more than a whiff of panic.

In a way, however, I’m exaggerating because my visitors won’t be arriving with a series of checklists and malice aforethought like the people on that horrible tv programme where they look under beds, slide fingers along picture frames and examine the loo forensically.  One is the sister, who’s used to the chaos and the other is honoured guest Mary McKenna, who’s a very relaxed host(ess) (don’t know the accepted form nowadays) and will I’m sure be happy enough if she can see a clear path to her bed and the bathroom.  Fingers crossed I can at least manage that.

At the time of writing the landing – a small space but mine own – is acting as a storage overflow, cluttered (there’s that word again) with stuff that’s waiting to be sorted and, possibly, dispensed with.  Let me put it this way:  when I have ceased to be, no one, absolutely no one will be keeping this stuff, so why, oh why am I?

On closer inspection, it’s probably another exaggeration to say that it’s all junk, of no worth whatsoever but what to do with it is the big conundrum.  That’s why it’s still hanging about being of no use in particular, waiting for me to make a decision.

There’s a photo of Dai with Jose Maria Olazabal talking to him just before his comeback from a crippling foot/back problem.  It’s signed but the message has faded and is barely visible:  “To my dear friend Day, with my best appreciation….”  At least I think that’s what it says but the signature is quite clear.

There’s also a frame with a couple of photos (no signatures) of Harry Vardon playing an exhibition game at Rhyl in 1908.  Vardon was six down after the first 18 holes but in the afternoon showed everybody why he ended up with six Open Championships and one US Open title, holing a monster putt to win on the 36th.  His opponent was Rhyl’s professional Ted Matthews, a Midlander who later spent many years at Walmley.

Ted, father of our great friend Harry, was an excellent player but told Dai’s father Rod, who wrote for the Birmingham Evening News, “I soon realised that I was going to be a club professional, not a tournament player.  I actually lost that match when Vardon holed a 15-yarder at the last but I virtually lost the match at the 1st in the afternoon.  I hit the ball so hard that I finished in the humps and hollows beyond the fairway.  Vardon won that hole and set out to beat me.”

And there’s a slightly tatty head cover from the US Open of 1986, at Shinnecock Hills, this year’s venue.  Raymond Floyd won, in the days of persimmon drivers with tiny heads.  Not only did the pros use them but so did we!!!  How on earth did we manage?

For a blast from the past, Floyd won by two shots from Lanny Wadkins and Chip Beck, with Lee Trevino and Hal Sutton a shot further back.  They were a shot ahead of Ben Crenshaw and Payne Stewart, one ahead of Jack Nicklaus, Bernhard Langer, Mark McCumber and Bob Tway.

Mention of Sutton reminds me that he remains my all-time favourite US Ryder Cup captain.  He was in charge at Oakland Hills in 2004 and was flamboyantly Texan – and completely outplayed by his opposite number, the cool calm and collected Bernhard Langer.  Europe won by 18 1/2 points to 9 1/2 and won every session bar one.  Blissful.  In my pile of “junk” I discovered a media bib signed by the European team.

Talking of the Ryder Cup, tickets go on sale in Ireland today (Friday).  A weekly general admission ticket (Tuesday to Sunday) is just shy of 2,000 Euro (1,999) and a match day ticket (Friday to Sunday) is 499.  Prices have been hiked substantially since Rome but as the people in charge pointed out that was four years ago and a lot has happened since then, with nothing getting any cheaper.

That explanation hasn’t stopped punters calling it greed and suggesting that ROI (Republic of Ireland) stands for Rip Off Ireland.  I suppose the main lesson is that if you want to go to a home Ryder Cup, it’s best to have a four-year savings plan because you’ll have to factor in travel and accommodation as well as tickets, meals and so on.  If you want to go to America?  Save harder.  And if you want to go to the football World Cup this summer, it sounds as though you have’ll to sell your worldly possessions.

On a happier note, a week or so ago Luke Donald and his wife Diane took the Ryder Cup to Limerick for an outing with local school children.  It was their first official visit to Adare Manor in the run-up to the big event next year.  Edoardo Molinari, the king of stats, the first vice captain to be named, also made the trip to inspect the golf course and some of the team spaces.  The defence begins.