After weeks of unbroken sunshine the weather here, in Europe at least, seems to be stepping up now to play a part in the running and the outcome of some important golf events.

Last week at The Belfry the Husqvarna British Masters hosted by Sir Nick Faldo endured in excess of nine hours of weather delay.  Torrential downpours first flooded the greens, then the bunkers, causing major headaches for tournament organisers, greenkeeping staff, spectators and players alike.  How they managed to complete 72 holes is beyond me.  Witchcraft must surely have been involved.  The result, on the other hand, certainly had the feel of a fairytale.

You may have heard of Joe Dean?  It was he who triumphed last Sunday finishing birdie, birdie and stampeding to the finish line with a closing 63.  Posted early in the afternoon, because there was no re-draw after the conclusion of the third round earlier on Sunday morning, his score stood up all day and he eventually won by three shots.

Joe’s is the sort of sporting story we all love.  This is only his third season playing on the DP World tour, having won his card at Q school at the end of 2023.  Lack of funds, however, prevented him from actually playing any tournaments at all until February of 2024 and it’s well documented that he scraped his finances together by driving a supermarket delivery van.

Sunday’s payday banked him €510,934.24.  Yep – thirty months after returning the keys to his van he’s depositing over half a million euros into his account.  That’s a lifetime of shifts at the supermarket.

In July he secured the very last spot in the Open at Royal Birkdale through a new initiative, the Last-Chance Qualifier, to make his second appearance in the world’s greatest championship.  He got married the following week and with his wife, Emily, caddying at the Belfry together they found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

This is what golf and sport is all about for me.  In the week that Scottie Scheffler won his second consecutive FED-EX Cup and surpassed Tiger Woods as the PGA Tour’s all-time official money winner (very well done, Scottie) – he has amassed more than $130 million dollars whereas poor old Tiger only has $120 million or so – it is Joe Dean’s story that captures the imagination.  That’s why LIV Golf didn’t register on most fans’ radars and why it’s the majors and team competitions that pique our interest.  Most of us simply can’t relate to the vast sums of money on offer – but we think we can relate to Joe Dean.

While Joe was trying to get his head round his life-changing week, South Africa’s Casandra Alexander was sloshing round to good effect at the K Club in the KPMG Women’s Irish Open.  This was her second win on tour and comes towards the end of a somewhat frustrating season for her.  She has had five runner-up spots this year but her patience and shot-making through a long, tiring, rain-soaked week paid off with a wire-to-wire three-shot victory.  Unsurprisingly, she has also stretched her lead at the top of the Order of Merit.

Another bright little ray of sunshine through the gloom of the Irish weather was Leona Maguire’s fourth place finish, her best at her home Open, just in nice time for her fourth consecutive Solheim Cup appearance next week in the Netherlands.

It’s been a tough old time recently for Leona with a season littered with missed cuts – eleven out of nineteen and six out of the last eight.  Her weekend scoring of 63/68, 13 under, must be a welcome relief to her and reassurance that she’s on the right track with her swing changes.  And, let’s not forget – match play is a different beast.  The newly retired European captain Anna Nordqvist must also be very happy with the Irishwoman’s return to form.

I’m hoping the weather plays ball for the next ten days for three events that I’ve been waiting for all year.  The first of these, the fourth playing of the Women’s PGA Cup, started yesterday at Carden Park in Cheshire, my old stomping ground and not that far from where I live.  It’s also where the effervescent David Llewellyn, current captain of the PGA, has his base and I know he’ll make sure all the players receive a right royal welcome..

The Women’s PGA Cup is, essentially, the Solheim Cup for women club and teaching pros.  There are five players on each team for the 54-hole strokeplay tournament with the best three scores counting each day.  This is the first time the competition has been held outside the United States and the event is gaining prestige with more countries playing each year.

Heather Macrae, a four-time winner of the Women’s PGA Championship, has the honour of leading the team from GB&I and is more than equipped for the task.  She and Holly Morgan are the sole survivors of the team that played in Oregon in 2024 and form the experienced backbone of the team.  They are joined by Tracey Boyes, Sian Evans and Hazel MacGarvie and it was a thrill for me to link up with them at the start of the week, although I was very quick to turn down their invitation to join them in a segway team-bonding activity – I prefer to keep my feet on terra firma.

While the girls are doing battle at Carden Patricia and I have found ourselves in the Emerald Isle to cheer on our boys in the Walker Cup at Lahinch.  I must say the whole village and club is decked out as if for a state visit with a wonderful integration of club and town ensuring the visiting golf fans have everything they could wish for right here at their disposal.  Mind you, years of hosting the South of Ireland championship, as well as the odd Irish Open, means they are all old hands at this, but this is undoubtedly the jewel in the men’s amateur game.

The opening ceremony takes place this afternoon with two days of great competition ahead of us and the blissful opportunity of walking on the fairways alongside the players.  So, please, please may we have some decent weather to see these exciting golfing talents.

So, this week Ireland, next week the Netherlands and the Solheim.  Gosh, it’s almost like being back on tour.

It has to be done, so no apologies whatsoever to the readers who not only have no interest in football but also absolutely HATE it (that would be me then!).  Well, how on earth could I love it these days, being a Spurs supporter for more than – wait for it – sixty, yes SIXTY, years?  There’s no getting away from it, we’re not very good.  In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, we’re crap.  Apologies if that’s one of those words that television presenters are contractually obliged to apologise for but it’s spot on, a fact.

We (not quite ready to give up the allegiance just yet) have spent millions on transfers in the latest window and if I’m being optimistic, there’s bound to be a period of bedding in, getting to know the manager’s system, the other players, all that sort of stuff.  Even so, despite the endless stats and ever-complicated combinations, football, at base, is about running, working hard, passing to a person in the same shirt and never, ever giving up.  It undoubtedly helps if you have a few players who understand those basics and if, happy days, they know how to look about them, assess the situation, read a game, you’re away in a coach.  At the moment, Spurs are away in an ambulance.

Last Saturday, Essie and I, ever hopeful, drove down to the match against Newcastle, the first home game of the season, at 1730.  We’d had a summit meeting to discuss our options and decided that the last train home, at 2035, was just too tight for us, so the car it was.  It rained most of the way down but wasn’t so manky on the way home, although it’s a bit of a gunk to be driving back in the dark.  Especially when you’ve lost.  Outplayed, outthought, outrun, outeverythinged.  Again.

You’re absolutely right:  football fans are stark, raving mad.  We’re bonkers.  Absolute basket cases.  What on earth are we doing!!

It wouldn’t be so bad if the golf was any good but it’s almost as depressing as the still tottering Totspurs.  Every now and again I do manage to hit two half decent shots in a row.  But the putting!  Horrendous doesn’t do it justice.  Last Tuesday, our competition day, none of the three of us, all reasonable golfers on our day, could  cope with greens with a bit of grass on them.  Three putts were the order of the day, despite all our exhortations to “hit the ****** ball harder”.  We reminded ourselves – and each other – endlessly but did we bloody listen?  We did not.

To make matters worse, I’ve completely forgotten how to hole anything from 14 inches in.  I’m pretty sure I’m not yipping – yet.  For non-golfers, that’s an involuntary jerk, totally out of your control – violinists, pianists, anybody who has to initiate a movement from a standing start, will also know – and dread – the feeling.  The only good thing is that it’s pretty much the same thing – a woeful push to the right – every time, so I’m hopeful that I’m not yet beyond help.  At a bare minimum it’s adding three shots to every round, probably more like five or six.  Believe me, non-golfers, that’s A LOT.

To get away from the golf, a friend and I took the train in to Birmingham last Friday afternoon, to listen to the CBSO (City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra).  The band – or a part thereof – were set up in New Street station performing two wee concerts for nothing and handing out vouchers for £1 tickets, to encourage everybody to support their orchestra and give music they’d never given a thought to a go.  If you had a West Midlands postcode and could get online quickly enough on Tuesday 2nd September, you could snaffle two tickets for £1 each for a concert of your choice from a large list that ran through this year and a large part of next.  It’s a brilliant offer but not without its pitfalls.  One friend didn’t get it quite right and ended up paying 80 quid (still a bargain) for two tickets.  At least it was something he and his wife really wanted to hear, so it wasn’t quite a disaster, darling.

Back to the football and the near impossibility of getting in touch with the club to sort problems out.  They’re always going on about how important we fans are, the heartbeat of the club and all that sort of stuff but when it comes to looking after us, providing something that could vaguely be described as customer service….well, bollocks to us all.  I was trying to transfer tickets to a friend and he’d given me all the appropriate details – name, number, perhaps it was the rank that was missing or not high enough to register; anyway, it didn’t work, so I rang the ticket office.  Did I get through to a person.  Of course not, even though my call was important to someone, or so I was reassured on a regular basis.

In the end I sent an email and, you’ll be unsurprised to learn, I’m still awaiting a reply…

Finally, to cheer us all up, my favourite pic of the week, used with permission.  Thanks Pamela.