Happy New Year everybody.  Here’s to an exciting 2019.

But first a quick look ahead to 2020 and the Ryder Cup at Whistling Straits in Wisconsin.  Congratulations to Padraig Harrington, the pride of Stackstown, on being appointed Europe’s captain.  [Photo by Getty Images.]  We’ll be hearing millions of words from the Dubliner, a man of singular mind if ever there was one, so for the time being we’re just saying well done and we’re really looking forward to the next couple of years in your company.

New year, new Ryder Cup captain, new Rules of Golf.  Yes, they’re here and in play at last and we’ve all got our about-to-be-well-thumbed wee books, our crib sheets and our questions.  And on the greens, there’s at least one extra question:  Pin attended?  Out?  Or just in?  After a whole 22 holes under the new regime, I think that most of the time I’ll be going with in, unattended.  If it’s good enough for Bryson James Aldrich DeChambeau, who’s well up there with Harrington in the Bundesliga of meticulousness, it’s good enough for me.

DeC is a student of physics, among other things and reckons that leaving the pin in will be a help most of the time.  Of course, the fact that golf is played outdoors in conditions that are not always consistent or controllable often does the young Californian’s head in.  Seeing his bewilderment and mystification when something goes awry, scuppering his best laid plans, the disbelieving rechecking of his double-double-checked data, is one of the delights of modern tournament golf.  His expressions are priceless.  In Kapalua in Hawaii the other week, it was very, very windy and that had to be factored in to the putting equation in an unexpected way:  if the flag was left in and unattended, it made a hell of a noise, whipping to and fro and disturbing the equilibrium.  How nice to know that even physics buffs can be discombobulated.

Apparently Jordan Spieth – remember him, young lad, going to be winning everything for ever before a season as a relative mortal? – is not a fan of the new drop from knee height.  And neither am I, though not, I suspect, for the same reason.  It’s just a bend too far for those of us coming to terms with varying degrees of decrepitude as a fact of daily life.  If I’d paid closer attention during the prolonged consultation period, perhaps I’d have realised that a more sensible option would have been to be less prescriptive and allow a bit of leeway between shoulder and knee.  Surprising really because it’s not as though the R&A and the USGA are bodies stocked with lissom youngsters – or supple Sam Sneads (look up what he could do to a door lintel well into his 70s) – without a creak between them.

Perhaps it’s just my dropping technique that needs work, a loose arm, a modest lean and a slight flex of the knees might do the job without making my genius osteopath Kay work harder than she already has to.  It’s early days after all.

It’s also an exciting time at Whittington Heath GC for another reason:  the diggers have arrived, the heavy plant is crossing and our transformation is under way.  We have to check the board outside the pro’s shop for the course du jour and someone suggested that the flag should be at half mast, to mark the end of an era, that we should be in mourning.

On the contrary, since being optimistic always beats the alternative (are you with me, Padraig?), I think we should be rejoicing and looking forward to a new era, whatever the inconveniences.  There have been a lot of changes in the club’s 133 years (founded 1886) and a golf course is a living thing, always a work in progress.  We’re blessed with a rare bit of Staffordshire heathland, ideal for golf and playable all year, not mud up to the eyeballs or flooded and we benefitted from a bit of Harry Colt magic in the 1920s.  Our job now is not to stuff that up!

Finally, good luck to our new ladies’ captain, Suzanne, Zany Zanny, Rundle.  She was welcomed into office at the ladies’ AGM on Tuesday and, barring the unexpected, will be confirmed at the club AGM tonight.  There’s quite a year ahead and if her brilliant (I exaggerate not a jot – Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn would have listened and wept, even Boris would have recognised a rival of substance) call to arms is anything to go by, we’re in for quite a ride.  Let’s hope we can do her justice.  My road to hell is usually littered with good intentions but I’m doing my bit by getting an early night….

 

 

 

 

I was at a funeral in Dublin on Monday, to say goodbye to Colm Smith, who was the very best of friends.  Maureen and I first met Colm many years ago when we were playing junior golf and he was working for the Irish Independent, in the far-off days when papers covered the full gamut of golf, big and small, female and male, amateur and professional.  Colm, who was a good tennis player, also covered rugby – he was on the Lions tour of South Africa in 1974, a life-changing trip – and when he became the Indo’s golf correspondent, he and Dai became good friends.  So we go back a long way.

At first, when I was trying to think of Colm-related anecdotes, all I could see was a series of snapshots from all over the golfing world, of Dai and me with Colm and Helen, his second wife, who died five years ago, laughing, with Seve; with the Christy O’Connors, Padraig, the mighty Mary McKenna, Irish golfers of every generation; with Maria Acacia and her team in charge of press rooms at Valderrama and all over Europe; with Charlie Yates at the press parties at the Masters at Augusta; drinking Guinness at The Goat in Dublin, vinho verde in Portugal with golf writing friends; at home…..the list goes on and on.  But I’m not the one to talk to about the golf writers’ home internationals because I only played the once – when they were desperate for an extra bod and even a woman would do.

Then Mo reminded me that one year at the Masters she had gone to the Saturday night party, when we sailed up Magnolia Lane as welcome guests, invitation to the fore, as Colm’s date – Helen was at home in Ireland working.  I’d forgotten that we wandered in to the locker room and mooched about taking in the atmosphere, peering at the immaculately polished shoes, even, scandalously, having a go with Jesper Parnevik’s ultra weird putter du jour.  Can’t really believe that Mo, a pro, would have sanctioned taking another pro’s club out of his bag without permission but we treated it with appropriate reverence, honest Jesper.

That might have been the year that I nicked an Augusta National glass from the bar, smuggling it out in Colm’s jacket pocket.  That was probably when the barman, who didn’t miss a trick, said, “I sees you but I ain’t telling.”  Good man and I’m sure he’s long retired now.  I don’t usually steal things but that glass has pride of place on my shelf – yes, miraculously it’s still intact.  I have no idea what its function is – apart from looking decorative – because it’s a bit small for wine and a tad too big for port but I love it and love the fact that Colm was happy to do the needful.  I’m sure that if I’d asked Charlie he’d have given it to me but where’s the frisson in that!

The day that Dai died Colm had flown over from Dublin to see him and it was a real comfort to have him there.  I’ll never forget Mo, Colm and me standing in the garden at St Giles Hospice, laughing our legs off because I’d just revealed Dai’s last word to me – SHUSH……No one will believe this I’d thought, before realising that, on the contrary, everyone who knew us would.  It was, I have to confess, perfect.

RIP dearest Colm and condolences to your family and many friends.

Life and golf go on and the Maguire twins, two of Ireland’s finest, are in Marrakesh for LET Pre-Qualifying B at Amelkis GC.  If they get through that, they’ll play in the final stage later this month.  Good luck to them but whatever happens, they’ll be okay.  They’re smart women as well as good golfers and we’re lucky to have them.

Finally, this being the time of year it is, Mo and I would like to wish our reader(s) a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and say thank you so much for reading.

I couldn’t resist putting this picture in.  Maureen’s post box collapsed recently and at my suggestion she’s been using a plastic box for the time being.  Unfortunately, the lid doesn’t fit too well and it couldn’t cope with all the rain we’ve had recently, so the mag emerged a little the worse for wear.  Well, a lot the worse for wear, its contents a mystery, shredded beyond comprehension.

 

 

I think it was the BBC’s Iain Carter – like Mo no fan of the Woods v Mickelson boost for Gamblers’ Anonymous – who mentioned that the World Cup of Golf was overshadowed by the over-hyped PGA Tour-sanctioned shindig in Las Vegas.  Well, in recent years, the World Cup has tended to limp along in the shadows whatever else has been going on.

The competition, which started in 1953 as the Canada Cup, at Beaconsfield in Montreal, was won by Roberto de Vicenzo and Antonio Cerda of Argentina and the following year, at Laval-sur-Lac, also in Montreal, Peter Thomson and Kel Nagle of Australia won.  In 1955, with home advantage, the United States won for the first time, represented by Ed Furgol and Chick Harbert.  The USA triumphed again in 1956, at Wentworth, with the more legendary pair of Ben Hogan and Sam Snead wowing large galleries.  And, of course, in 1958, in Mexico City, Harry Bradshaw and Christy O’Connor won for Ireland.

As far as I could see, this year’s event, officially called the ISPS Handa Melbourne World Cup of Golf, was not listed in the European Tour’s media guide but, fortunately for me, all the results were and the names on the immense trophy include some of the greats of the game – Palmer, Nicklaus, Player, Trevino, Ballesteros, Faldo, Els, Woods.  In Hawaii, in 1987, Wales won with David Llewellyn manfully supporting an imperious Ian Woosnam.  They beat Scotland, represented by Sandy Lyle and Sam Torrance, in a play-off.  Llewellyn, known as Lulu, could play a bit and should have become the first man to break 60 on the European Tour, as long ago as 1988, but three-putted the last at Biarritz.

There was a new name on the trophy this year, with Belgium winning at The Metropolitan Club in Melbourne.  Thomas Pieters and Thomas Detry held off Australia (Mark Leishman and Cameron Smith, supported by a huge crowd) and Mexico (Abraham Ancer and Roberto Diaz), to win by three shots.

This year the format was two rounds of fourballs and two rounds of foursomes and I have to confess that over the years covering the World Cup was not always the most exciting gig.  Watching the Scots one year in Florida (I was the Daily Record’s Dale Rankin No 302, or thereabouts; if their own man wasn’t there, the bod sending in the golf copy was given the byline Dale Rankin) and the most noteworthy thing was a chat with Jim Milligan, the quiet Scot who’d helped GB and I win the Walker Cup at Peachtree and was on his holidays.

I think that was the year that I also had to do The Times unexpectedly and Ian Woosnam ended up writing to the sports editor to complain that he had not, as I reported, been up until three in the morning playing the piano. It turned out to be a combination of rushed writing, changing editions and inexact sub-editing and Woosie was mollified by a bit of grovelling on my part and some nifty diplomacy by the golf correspondent.

I finally cracked how to cover the World Cup when I was doing the Scots again, in Italy this time and they were playing uninspired stuff, well down the leaderboard and losing interest by the stroke.  We were staying in Rome, about an hour’s coach journey from the course, which was pretty well in the middle of nowhere and some people moved out of Rome to cut out the commute.  It was worth every second on that coach to be able to enjoy Rome and one morning Dai and I joined Kaye Kessler (read his stuff when you get the chance) and his wife Roe on a memorable tour of the catacombs, guided by an ebullient priest from somewhere like Hong Kong.

If memory serves, we had a delicious lunch and hitched a lift in a courtesy car summoned by the formidable and well connected Kesslers (distinguished Americans merited priority treatment), arriving at the golf course just as the Scots were approaching the 18th green, five or perhaps nearer six hours after they’d started.  Perfect!  Even better, I managed to intercept one of the Scots as he legged it out of the scoring hut by the back door, trying to evade having to say anything at all about their dire performance.  Oh happy days!

No jetting off to Australia, Hong Kong, Mauritius, the Bahamas, Vegas, or wherever for me these days but I’m hoping to be at Woburn next year to see Georgia Hall defend her Women’s British Open title.  Ricoh have finished their stint as sponsors and yesterday it was announced that it’s now the AIG Women’s British Open, with American International Group, Inc (NYSE:  AIG) becoming the title sponsor for the next five years at least.  AIG is a leading global insurance organisation (I quote the press release but prefer organisation to organization) and this is the company’s first title sponsorship in professional golf.  More on this all, no doubt, in due course but let’s welcome what I hope will be good news for women’s golf worldwide.

Meanwhile, lower down the swinging order, it was Christmas jersey day at Whittington and I leave you with one trio’s offering.  We got 13 holes (the designated number at this time of year) in before it started lashing with rain and didn’t have to cover our jumpers with waterproofs.

 

Well, well, well.  Dame Laura Davies is going to be one of Europe’s vice-captains at next year’s Solheim Cup at Gleneagles.  I confess I nearly fell over when I heard that.  And I laughed.  Laura, for whom everyone in golf should be thankful, for her skills, her personality, her longevity, her individuality, the sheer sense of fun she brought – and is still bringing – to a game that too often tries to take itself too seriously.  The same Laura who played in 12 Solheim Cups, starting at the beginning, in 1990 at Lake Nona but who year in, year out, swore that she had no interest, ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER, in ever being captain.  Not for me, she said, not my bag.

And as for being in a supporting role, as a vice-captain, dishing out bananas, nuts, sandwiches, cold towels, hand warmers, water, sympathy, advice, plasters, whatever……well, NO WAY.

And now, here she is, on Catriona Matthew’s support team, alongside fellow vice-captains Suzann Pettersen and Kathryn Imrie, saying:  “I’m delighted and honoured to have been asked to be vice-captain for the first time by Catriona.  She sent me a text message when I was doing commentary at the Ryder Cup and I thought, ‘Ah, I wonder what this will be about’.  Sure enough, she asked me if I would do it and I didn’t even have to think about it.  I want to be part of the team and I hope that I can make a positive contribution and help in any way that I can.

“The Solheim Cup has always held a very special place in my heart, right from the first one in 1990.  Many of my fondest memories have been made during the Solheim Cup and I’m hoping that this one, at Gleneagles, will be the best yet.”

DLD, like all champions, is as stubborn as all get out, so perhaps we could do worse than put Catriona in charge of the Brexit negotiations, or similar, if similar exists, given that she obviously has diplomatic skills and persuasion of the highest order.

“It really was a no brainer,” Matthew said, though she wasn’t sure that Davies would accept the offer.  “I’m delighted to have Laura alongside me on the journey to Gleneagles.  She is hugely respected by the players and has a great sense of humour, which will bring a bit of levity.  Her experience speaks for itself.  She has played in 12 Solheim Cups, on both winning teams and losing teams, she has won 87 titles around the world and been the lynchpin of the Ladies European Tour for the last 30 years.

“The players that will be in the team have such respect for her that if any of them need a question answered, they will listen to Laura.  I couldn’t ask for anything better than to have Laura, Kathryn and Suzann at my side as vice-captains and their combined experience will be a great asset for our team.”

They all have quite a job on their hands as Juli Inkster, US captain for an unprecedented third time, will be leading a team intent on winning the trophy for the third time in a row.  The good news is that Europe have never lost in Scotland.  There was the ground-breaking, golf-shattering victory at Dalmahoy in 1992, an upset of epic proportions; then the under-water win at Loch Lomond in 2000; so the pressure is on at Gleneagles.  If it’s wet, Europe should be okay.

It was pretty damp and dreich at Dalmahoy, where no one noticed as Davies and her teammates tore a multi-major American team to shreds – I exaggerate a little but not by much and at this remove it’s hard to convey just what an upset it was.  Foinavon anyone?  (Grand National 1967, odds of 100/1.)  It was in that sort of league.  Loch Lomond was just ridiculous, with delays that favoured Europe in the end and a determination by both sides to finish the contest despite conditions that really required snorkels and flippers.

Anyway, perhaps Laura has decided that she’d like to be Solheim Cup captain after all and has taken the first step over the sidelines, showing willing at last despite years of denial.  Everyone’s entitled to change their mind.  Go Laura.

At the other end of the spectrum there’s Leona Maguire, who’s at the beginning of her professional career after a glittering amateur career.  She just missed out on her LPGA card after a Q-School that took gruelling to another level and she and her twin sister Lisa will be having a go at the LET Qualifying School next month.  In the meantime Leona, who represented Ireland at the Rio Olympics, is a KPMG 20×20 ambassador, starring in an edgy ad campaign to promote the 20×20 initiative, which aims to have 20 per cent more media coverage for women in sport, 20 per cent more female participation in sport and 20 per cent more attendance at women’s events by 2020.

The twins are friends and admirers of Katie Taylor, the boxer, who lost in the quarter-finals at Rio when one of the favourites for gold but learned from that disappointment, turned professional and became a world champion.  Life and sport rarely run smoothly and Leona said, “I learned as much from how Katie handled that loss, which was probably one of the biggest moments of her career, as I learned from watching all her victories down the years.  Her class and all the hard work she has done make her an incredible role model for anybody in Ireland, not just for girls in sport but for life in general.”

I’m watching the semi-finals of the ICC Women’s World T20 cricket from Antigua (where the sainted Sir Viv Richards was one of the spectators).  It was disappointing that the Windies, who’d looked dangerously good in earlier rounds, didn’t give Australia much of a game but for a while India against England was shaping up to be a much tighter affair. In the end, India didn’t have a big enough total to defend and England batted well to win by 8 wickets.  I love the intensity of the players, the commitment and concentration, the different shapes and sizes, minnows like Bangladesh and Ireland playing their hearts out, former England men’s captain Nasser Hussain and former West Indies fast bowler Ian Bishop commentating and critiquing without a hint of hauteur, just enjoying the contests and the cricket.

To finish, I include a picture of my mate Sue, who earlier this week sent her drive sailing over the dreaded dip at Whittington Heath’s 2nd hole.  Not so long ago she despaired of ever making the carry again but Mo gave her a brief lesson,  in the park, without a club and voila.

Sport really is for all.