Jack Whaley must be on top of the world.

Jack who? I hear you ask.  Jack Whaley, the new US Amateur champion, is an Englishman from Doncaster and last weekend he triumphed over Jay Leng Jr in the final match and scooped the prestigious Havemeyer trophy along with a host of other goodies.  Those “goodies” include a tee time at next year’s Masters tournament, a start at the US Open and a place in the Open Championship field – all such invitations being dependent on him remaining amateur.

It’s a lot to take in for the Florida State University student who has one more year before graduating but he has to get his head back in the game in pretty short order because his first assignment as the US Amateur champion will be as a member of Dean Robertson’s GB&I Walker Cup team.  They play at Lahinch in two week’s time.

For a player who was just inside the top 100 of the world when he arrived at Merion for the US Amateur the chances of finding himself making travel plans for the Walker Cup were slim.  They didn’t improve a great deal when he opened with a strokeplay total that saw him in a play-off for one of the final berths in the matchplay stages.  Sixteen players for eleven spots is akin to my worst nightmare of musical chairs.  Obviously, Jack got to a stage when he didn’t fancy prolonging the agony any longer because at the par-3 13th hole he lipped out for an ace, tapped in for an easy two, and promptly headed back to the clubhouse leaving the rest of them to it.

There was more drama to come, however, because he just about squeaked home in his first match – at the 22nd hole – making his poor Dad (and greatest supporter) Andy, who was on the bag all week, do extra duty yet again.  It all ultimately proved worthwhile, however, when Whaley rolled in a ten-footer for birdie on the 33rd green in the final to win by 4 and 3, so becoming only the third English player to win the title, following on from Matt Fitzpatrick in 2013 and Harold Hilton way back in 1911.

In the immediate aftermath of the presentation and rounds of interviews congratulations came flooding in from all over the place including from the aforementioned Matt.  There was also an unexpected phone call from Justin Rose, the last Englishman to triumph at Merion and for whom the place holds special meaning.  It was there that he won his US Open title in 2013.

It was an unforgettable week for the Whaleys and memories have been made for a lifetime.  Now, all eyes turn to Lahinch and the next chapter.  Exciting times.

My own week has been punctuated with a joyful return to the Emerald Isle to take part in Woodbrook golf club’s extensive centenary celebrations.  Mind you, I wasn’t expecting quite such a stressful journey, especially as it started off in a reasonably benign fashion with hubby driving me to Liverpool airport.  A mere twenty minutes before being ejected at the drop-off zone a message pinged into my new izzy-whizzy-up-to-the-minute phone.

“Your Aer Lingus flight has been cancelled due to technical reasons.”

For “oh bother” read something a tad stronger.  There were no other flights out of Liverpool to Dublin that would get me to Woodbrook in time but when I eventually managed to speak to a live person in the Customer Care team (as opposed to indulging in lengthy typing with a bot) things were relatively quickly resolved.

We did a super swift detour to Manchester and I caught a flight an hour or so after the original one.  Crisis averted – or so I thought.  But no.  No luggage appeared at baggage reclaim for me in Dublin’s terminal 2, so cue extensive investigations to locate it.  Eventually it was discovered in the airport but the handlers hadn’t sent it up to the carousels as it was scheduled to return to Liverpool in under 24 hours.  Make sense of that if you can.

Anyway, reunited with said bag, I arrived at my hotel at 6pm.  I live exactly seventy miles due east of Dublin, so it’s not a big journey.  Trouble is, the Irish sea is in the way.  That seventy miles took me nearly eight hours to traverse – I actually felt I should at the very least be on the west coast of America.

But every minute turned out to be worth it, as I knew it would.  Right on time, 45 minutes later, the superior chauffeurs arrived – the two Mary Andersons, senior and junior, both looking a million dollars.

Mary senior has been a member of Woodbrook for sixty years and Mary junior joined as a junior back in 1973 so between them they have racked up 113 years of membership at the club and they’re still going strong.

Avid supporters of the women’s game in general, and Irish and Curtis Cup golf in particular, their involvement and input has been steadfast over the years.  One of their most memorable trips was to Bandon Dunes in Oregon for the 2006 Curtis Cup where M senior purchased a snazzy top whose design depicted the American Curtis Cup team for the inaugural match which was played in 1932.

She wore it in my honour that evening and I’m pretty sure she is the only one of the nearly one hundred women present who can still fit in to an article of fitted clothing bought over twenty years ago!

After drinks and delicious food the evening culminated with Pat Doran, gold-medal winning and senior international player par excellence, hosting a “fireside chat” session with me and the ever-modest Ita Butler, one of Ireland’s all-time greats.  Ita not only played in the Curtis Cup she also captained the 1996 team, leading them to a home victory over the United States in Killarney.  One member of that team, Alison Davidson, née Rose, had written a wonderful tribute and ringing endorsement of Ita as a person and a captain and it was a moving moment when Pat read it out to Ita’s fellow members.

Woodbrook has always been a high profile club in Ireland and the influential role the club has played over the years has been highlighted beautifully by a number of impressive history boards with detailed timelines of historic events and achievements.  There’s also a wonderful rogue’s gallery of world famous players who have trod the turf at Woodbrook, many of them in the renowned Carroll’s Irish Open hosted there for so many years.

However, in my opinion, it’s the rank and file membership of this lovely club that provides the heartbeat and the life force that means they have galloped through their first hundred years with aplomb.  I was thrilled to meet up again with old pals, Pauline, Gillian and Clodagh and was delighted to see the room abuzz with so many feisty, vibrant women who just love the game of golf.

It was an invigorating evening and my thanks to captain Sarah and all those working hard to make the celebrations a success.

It was a privilege to be involved and here’s to the next hundred.

Well, you know what?  Wonder of wonders, the blog is starting with golf for the second consecutive week, my golf, so it’s not a game of any great distinction.  I hadn’t played for two or three weeks because of the heat and it was good to get out again in manageable temperatures.

I hit some decent shots but my putting was abysmal, tiddler after tiddler going astray, all in the same direction.  So, what does that tell you?  In the absence of yipping, an inadvertent, uncontrollable jerk of a stroke, it means, surely, that a single, simple correction to the set-up is all that’s needed.  Here’s hoping I remember that next time out.  And concentrate properly on the task in hand.

One of the good things was that my two playing partners, who have both had knee operations (avoid if at all possible is the advice I gleaned), managed 18 holes, one in a buggy and one walking, with her granddaughter caddying.  One was very respectable (32 points) and the other was so outstanding that she won the competition with 41 points.  Appropriately enough it was the Grandmothers competition and it was the first time she had walked a full round for a couple of years.  Amazing.  Many congrats.

Apologies Sue C but I didn’t take any photos.

You know how everybody’s always banging on about having the best players playing each other more often, going head to head – though usually that doesn’t happen because, like last week in Memphis, Rory was rubbish and Scottie was supreme, blitzing the field to win by eight shots.  And if it hadn’t been one of those poxy small field, no cut jobs, Rory would have been on his way home on Friday instead of Sunday.*

Anyway, I’m not particularly interested in these FedEx playoffs, all played in sweltering heat, with prize funds that are off the charts.  Ho hum!  Scottie’s won another three million.  Well done.  Hope he’s investing wisely.

Am I just becoming jaded and cynical?  Perhaps.  But sporting greed is becoming less and less appealing.

Which brings us neatly to the great god football, gobbler up of everything in its path.  Of course it should leave the summer to other sports, like cricket, athletics, anything really but it’s already well under way in Scotland and the lower leagues and if you watch Sky Sports it’s awash with transfer news; some teams will be unrecognisable to begin with and Totspurs have been spending madly and selling too.  Who the hell’s left?

This might be my last season of trawling up and down to N17.  There are lots of matches scheduled for half five on a Saturday evening and it looks as though Mondays at eight o’clock will feature regularly too, not the most fan-friendly of kick-off times.  Still, it’ll be worth it if the football brings us joy,  something that’s been missing from the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium for the last couple of seasons.  Frankly, we’ve been subjected to dross for far too long and deserve a break.

My expectations for this season are simple:  some entertaining football please (that includes defenders who know what they’re doing, can read a game and don’t give away daft goals) and perhaps a cup run, maybe two.  Results matter – we fans didn’t care that the 2025 Europa League final against Manchester United was dire because we won – but we’ve had enough of the rubbish and want to watch some decent football.  Is that too much to ask:  to enjoy the football?

Perhaps it is.  Perhaps enjoyment is at complete odds with professional sport where you’re judged entirely on results and winning is everything.  In the end, in most competitions, there can be only one winner, so where does that leave the rest of us?  Miserable losers?  Seeking consolation somewhere?  Or satisfied that we gave our all, tried our best and will crack on again next time?   That would be a start.

Admittedly, it’s tougher to be sanguine when the nearest, fiercest neighbours are the reigning champions, crowing, glowing and strutting with a confidence born of success.  I’m not expecting them to crash and burn, so the teeth will undoubtedly be gritted on a regular basis.  Hope my new crown can cope with the grinding…

On the domestic front, my new kettle has arrived and the jury’s still out but I was delighted to see that the mother and son combo of Shashi and Sanjay of the Spice Kitchen were on Dragons’ Den this week.  I can’t remember where I came across them but their range of lovely, fragrant spices make great meals – and pressies.  The dragons were very impressed but declined to invest because they didn’t want to spoil the magic by imposing demanding, money-driven targets.  Hope Shashi and Sanjay take it as the compliment it was and go from strength to strength in their own way.

*Interestingly enough, Rory, so at odds with his game last week, produced a first round of 64, six under par, this week, to share the lead.  Scottie laboured to a 72, two over par, not bad considering he was four over after seven.

Golf!  Just when you think it’s predictable, it reminds you that it’s a four-letter word.