Well, that’s another Solheim Cup in the books and another win for Europe which means that after twenty iterations of this contest the scoreboard reads:  eleven wins to the USA, eight wins to Europe and one match halved.  I’ve attended ten of the matches in some capacity or other, witnessing five wins for Europe and five for the US – and, let me tell you, winning is so, so much more fun.

This year I was accepted into the ranks of a feisty group of golfers from the sister’s club Whittington Heath and eight of us, including the sister, made the trip to Bernardus golf club in s’Hertogenbosch (Den Bosch) in the Netherlands.

Living the experience of the rank and file golf fan makes me appreciate so much more the rather privileged and easier existence I’ve experienced for most of my life by being inside the ropes at golf tournaments.  It put me in mind of Peter Alliss’s avowal that golf fans are the best in the world.  They walk miles up hill and down dale to watch their favourites,  held back by nothing more than a skinny bit of rope.  They’re instructed to stand still, keep moving, cross here, keep quiet, cheer louder – and don’t dare complain when the TV cameramen plonk themselves directly in front of you at a green, completely blocking your view.

The golf fan queues for everything – transport in and out of the tournament sites;  the loos;  food and drink;  and when they can walk no longer seats in the grandstands.  The next day they get up and do it all again – and they pay through the nose for it all.

Both sets of fans are generally affable, always long-suffering, often opinionated, and at the Solheim Cup they do a nice line in supporters’ fancy dress – always with a twist of humour.  On the Saturday morning I was on the 06.04 train from Eindhoven to Den Bosch and it was standing room only.  There was a party of eight women, none of whom had got a seat, dressed from head to toe in yellow and blue and looking every inch the European supporters they were.  They hadn’t quite completed their outfits though – and suddenly eight wigs were produced, four yellow and four blue, followed by numerous hairbrushes and styling implements.  The twenty-minute journey became an entertaining, hilarious scenario as they helped each other sort out their patriotic hairdos to their satisfaction.  Satisfied with their final look, they boarded a shuttle bus for the half-hour ride to the course and the start of eleven hours of tramping and singing and supporting.

The American fans were obviously outnumbered but enjoyed all the banter, entering equally eagerly into the spirit of outrageous dressing-up.  As with their European counterparts, they knew with certainty what every pairing should be and in which order for the best possible result of each session.  And, as I’ve said before, and had reinforced last week, the best commentary always comes from outside the ropes.

Hats off to the lot of them.

This being Holland bikes were the preferred mode of transport in and out of the venue for many of the fans and workers at the tournament.  One of the marshals, who lived sixty kilometres away and who cycled in each morning for his shift and then rode home, was a little nonplussed by our admiration.  He brushed away any exclamations of surprise (and envy) by saying with a shrug,  “It’s a nice ride – and we’re used to it.”  I’m sure he won’t mind me saying he wasn’t in the first flush of youth either.

Meanwhile, the important business of the week was taking place inside the ropes.  After the frenetic goings-on on the first tee of walk-on music, dancing, singing and chanting, the players on each team somehow managed, for the most part, to wrap themselves in an oasis of concentrated calm.  They succeeded in accessing the ability to deliver quality golf shots under extreme pressure – particularly, I thought, in the foursomes, that most difficult and awkward of formats.  The course was set up to deliver exciting matchplay golf and it allowed the courageous, accurate player to prosper.  The testing pin positions demanded precision short-iron play and well-executed European shots prompted rolling waves of support to echo round the property.

There were certainly moments that will figure on every highlight reel going forward:  Carlota Ciganda rolling in her putt across the last green in the final Friday fourball to square the match against the mighty Nelly Korda and Lauren Coughlin;  Maja Stark holing her second shot at the first in Saturday’s fourballs;  Jennifer Kupcho’s outrageous putts on the 17th and 18th greens (some 30 yards and 30 feet respectively) on Saturday evening.

There were also some quiet personal achievements.  Linn Grant played four, won four, happily reversing her results in the 2024 match;  America’s Alison Lee also played four, won four, with the highlight a scintillating comeback from four down in her singles against Esther Henseleit;  with her foursomes win on Saturday morning Leona Maguire broke the record for the fastest to ten wins in terms of matches played.  The previous record was jointly held by Dottie Pepper and Nelly Korda who required fifteen matches to reach the ten-point mark.  Leona required only fourteen.

Overall it was a wonderful sporting contest, conducted in the proper manner.  No one who knows anything about women’s golf would pretend that here were the best two dozen women golfers in the world.  Quite patently the powerbase lies in the east in Thailand and Korea and I would even go so far as to include Japan.  I certainly have seen vastly superior Solheim Cup teams in the past but that doesn’t take away from the spectacle of seriously good sporting competition that we enjoyed at Bernardus.

It’s time, however, to give those Korean, Thai and Japanese players a proper global matchplay platform upon which to display their skills.  Change the drab, uninteresting, one-sided Presidents Cup (which no one cares about) into two mixed teams, six men, six women, America versus the Internationals.  Now, that I would eagerly watch.

Finally, to Europe and to Anna Nordqvist, very well done indeed.  It was a well-deserved victory, marvellous to witness and a pleasure to experience in the company of those Whittington Heath members.

Thanks one and all.

 

 

 

 

Scrolling through my many emails the other day, I came across a piece that came highly recommended, an article in The Atlantic magazine by Lily Meyer.  Its slightly unwieldy title is:  An Ingredient That’s All Too Rare in Adult Life and it’s subtitled “Whatever happened to being silly?”

Now, that’s more like it and it made me think immediately of the Solheim Cup, where silliness is obligatory and those of us togged out in ordinary golf-watching gear are made to feel underdressed and a little embarrassed that we haven’t made more of an effort.  For example, at our hotel in Eindhoven, Mo was taken aback when the lift door opened and a gang of middle-aged and elderly women poured out, all attired in European blue and yellow, with flags and hats to match.  There was nothing understated about it and they were off to have a ball, cheering on Europe at Bernardus Golf.

The first Solheim Cup, rushed into production with little preparation at Lake Nona, in Florida, in 1990 was lowkey and understated but the handful of European supporters had already started writing songs for all the players and it has grown into a grand tradition.  The racket now includes walk-on music for each player and a disc jockey to keep the crowd entertained and revved up but some of my more traditional friends hadn’t kept up with the programme.  “What’s all the loud music about?” one of them asked, baffled.  Then, on being enlightened, “Crumbs, whatever next?”

Nowadays there are twelve singles matches, so for a couple of hours and more the noise from the 1st tee reverberates around the course and the players already out there doing battle have to take that into account whenever they’re hitting a shot.  It also can’t be an easy atmosphere if you’re fond of a few minutes of quiet contemplation before setting off.  Fortunately for Europe their rookies seemed to revel in the rowdiness and embrace the hubbub:  Mimi Rhodes, Nastasia Nadaud and Julia Lopez Ramirez,  looked as though they were having a ball and the latter two won their singles.  Rhodes was comfortably kept in check by Nelly Korda, the world No 1, who performed befitting her status and won 4 and 2 but the Englishwoman relished the occasion.

It was a joy to see players embracing the challenge and competing fiercely but with a smile, buoyed up by devoted fans who were also determined to enjoy the contest.  Even if the golf had been dull and boring – which it wasn’t – the fans were determined to be anything but.  Some outfits were years in the planning and the preparation and would have been a credit to The Great British Sewing Bee, a programme that celebrates creativity and seamless stitching.

 

The Swedes are always easily recognisable and this year there were two of them to cheer on, as well as captain Anna Nordqvist, of course.  Linn Grant and Maja Stark won three matches together – two foursomes and one four ball and their scalps included the previously unbeaten pairing of Nelly Korda and Allisen Corpuz in the foursomes on Saturday morning, a session the Europeans won 3-1.  Seasoned observers (old farts like me) questioned some of Nordqvist’s choices but putting her compatriots together wasn’t one of them.

 

Putting Charley Hull and Lottie Woad together four times – three defeats, one half – was one of the head scratchers but the highly ranked Englishwomen came good at the end, with wins in the singles; Hull at the top defeated Megan Khang, always tough to beat and an asset to any side; Woad, a rookie at this level, took care of Auston Kim in match eight and the Europeans were as good as home and hosed; it was all official when Carlota Ciganda finished off Jennifer Kupcho in the penultimate match.  Olé, olé, olé indeed.

Just as Ciganda did her Seve/Chema act yet again (this is the second time she’s been credited with posting the winning point, to match Catriona Matthew), it’s a group of Spanish spectators who go top of the outfits, doing themselves and their nation proud with their flounce and flamboyance.  If you think golf’s dull and boring, come to the Solheim Cup.  The golf is usually excellent, the rivalry fierce but fair and the outfits are unsurpassed.

The American spectators did their best but were outnumbered and perhaps cautious of their reception after the disgusting behaviour at the Ryder Cup at Bethpage, kept a relatively low profile.  Expect a lot better from them at Valhalla in Kentucky in 2028.  The Europeans will undoubtedly need a large luggage allowance if they’re to win the battle of the sartorial silliness next time.

Some more pics to finish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, here are the four not-so-intrepids who watched the end of the match unfold in the bar.

And the four stalwarts who stayed out there cheering until the end.  Viva the Whittington Heathens.