One of the most enjoyable parts of my broadcasting career was the opportunity to attend a raft of Walker Cups during the noughties right through to around a decade ago.  It afforded a lifelong golf fan like me the chance to see the best amateurs from each side of the Atlantic and to play the impossible guessing game as to which players would make a successful transition into the professional ranks.  And would there be any capable of stepping up into the rarefied atmosphere inhabited by major winners?  Whether they did or not, I always made a point of keeping an eye on various players throughout the years – just to see where golf might take them.

I have to confess my who’d-make-a-successful-pro radar wasn’t renowned for its accuracy.  My crystal ball was permanently cloudy – a little like my eyes at the moment as I’m slated for bilateral cataract surgery in a few weeks time.  But I digress – that’s perhaps a tale for another time.

The year 2015 always springs to mind when I think of erroneous first impressions.  I arrived at Royal Lytham & St Annes ahead of that year’s match and as I made my way out to the course to see the teams practising I spotted a lone player on the range, bashing balls away, surrounded by a small group of family and well-wishers.  It was my moment of sighting a rare species of golfer.  Yes, he was a golfer all right, but not as we knew it.  This was Bryson DeChambeau.

Being late on the final practice day, and with not long to go before the opening ceremony, I jumped to the conclusion that this poor soul was frantically searching for a missing piece to his game or perhaps a last-minute trigger that would help him over the weekend.  When his name was omitted from the opening session of foursomes I assumed his quest hadn’t been particularly successful.

You know what assuming makes us – and it proved correct on this occasion.  BDC was unbeaten in his three matches and of the twenty players who teed it up in that Walker Cup he is the only major winner, having tucked away two US Open titles.

That year produced a resounding victory for the home team by a massive seven points and I’ve enjoyed following the fortunes of those players ever since.

Playing a part in that triumph was Scotland’s Grant Forrest (picture at top) who, last Sunday, became the latest winner on the DP World tour.  The Spanish Open took place at Real Club de Campo in Madrid and lived up to its billing of always providing a thrilling finish, with a Spaniard, a Frenchman and a Scotsman all vying to lift one of the oldest titles in European golf.

The home fans, understandably, were all behind Eugenio Chacarra, the local lad who has had a breathtaking last eighteen months or so winning three European titles.  It looked like he might add a fourth when he charged to the turn in five under par but a ho-hum level par inward nine saw him come up a shot shy.  The inward nine did Victor Perez no favours either and his failure to make inroads on par led to him finishing alongside Chacarra on thirteen under.

It was Grant Forrest who somehow banished all thoughts of his previous four missed cuts and motored home with three birdies in his last six holes, including an oh-so-precious one at the last that meant he has now won his third DP World title and his first one outside his homeland.

Talk about picking your wins.  We’re only half way through October and Forrest knows he has already secured a tee time at the Open Championship in St Andrews in nine months time.  It’ll be his third start in golf’s oldest championship having played before at Muirfield in 2013 and Carnoustie in 2018.

Before that, however, he’ll be driving down Magnolia Lane to take part in the Masters tournament for the first time in his life.  After his win he recalled his only visit to Augusta to date.  “I was there as a spectator in 2019 and it’s just an incredibly special place.”  He added, “To have the opportunity to play hasn’t sunk in yet.”

These are all things money can’t buy.

Mind you, eleven years ago Grant was oh so close to playing at Augusta.  However, his runner-up spot in the Amateur Championship in 2015 wasn’t quite enough for a precious Masters invitation –  it is only the champion who makes the trip.  On that occasion it was Frenchman Romain Langasque who went on to Georgia, made the cut and shot a sizzling final round 68, at the time the lowest round ever shot by a European amateur.  It wouldn’t surprise me if that were still the case.

As well as forging new paths for himself in the game Forrest is also following in some fairly meaty footsteps of fellow Scots.  He becomes the fifth player from the old country to have his name etched on the Spanish Open trophy following Bernard Gallacher, Brian Barnes, Sam Torrance and Colin Montgomerie.  Judging by the way he finished off in style in Madrid last Sunday he is not a bit out of place in that company.

Another member of that victorious 2015 GB&I Walker Cup side is also currently experiencing some life-changing moments, albeit nowadays they tend to be off the golf course rather than on it.

Paul Dunne, who will forever be remembered for leading the Open Championship after three rounds while still an amateur (and at St Andrews to boot) turned pro after that successful Walker Cup at Lytham and went on to win the British Masters two years later.  Niggling wrist and hand injuries brought his playing career to a close, however and he has turned his attentions more recently to coaching.

Over the last year or so he has also been caddying for his fianceée, Solheim Cup player and former Women’s British Open winner Georgia Hall.  The couple welcomed a son, Conor, into the world earlier this year and rumours abound that they plan to tie the knot very, very soon.  These have been fuelled by Georgia’s best pal, Charley Hull, posting some photos on her socials of a girls’ luxury weekend and hinting that the wedding is just around the corner.

I wish them well – and I hope I’m around in another twenty years or so to see if little Conor can follow in Dad’s Walker Cup footsteps.  He certainly has the golfing genes for it.

 

I was keeping a watchful eye on the goings-on at the Alfred Dunhill Links Championship over the weekend and revelled in watching the professionals deal with a blustery Old Course at St Andrews on Sunday.

A tricky and testing 20mph cross wind, coupled with challenging pins, made it extremely difficult to control the distance of the approach shots.  Sometimes it was about setting your shot off into the breeze only for it to be landing – and frequently running on – down draught.  Tommy Fleetwood shot a best of the day 64, testament to the purity of his ball-striking, and finished joint fourth with Tartan Tour player Michael Stewart who was immense in shooting a final round 66.

The spoils, however, went to Adrian Meronk, the man who has put Poland on the map in golfing terms over the last decade.  This was his fifth DP World title and I have missed watching him since he took himself off to play on the LIV tour three years ago, seemingly in a fit of pique when overlooked for the Ryder Cup in Rome in 2023.

While the playing avenues open to many LIV players for 2027 are still uncertain this victory will go a long way to ensuring Meronk may well be a full and bona fide DP World tour player again.  I’d love to see him qualify in an automatic spot for the Ryder Cup in Adare – that, after all, is the only way you can be absolutely certain of your place in the team.  Dad always advised me that you had to make it impossible for a captain to leave you out and that captain’s picks were just that – captain’s picks.  You can never rely on getting the nod in that scenario and you have no comeback, no matter how unlucky the rest of the golf world considers you.  So, come on, Adrian – I’d love to see you as Poland’s first representative in the Ryder Cup.

There were a couple of things that struck me during Sunday’s play round the Old.  Firstly, how important the caddies were in aiding and abetting their players in unlocking the secrets of the course and secondly the at times deafening cawing of the huge crows that spent a lot of time walking around on the ground because of the blustery conditions.  This immediately took me back to the July Club’s visit there in 2017.

For the uninitiated there are four members of the July Club – two Scots, Gillian Stewart and Sandra Ross, – and two Irish, Mary McKenna and yours truly.  For many years we had an annual golf week in October in either Scotland or Ireland and nine years ago we based ourselves in St Andrews, playing the Old, the Jubilee, Carnoustie and Ladybank.

When we played the Old we had utterly fabulous caddies who knew every hump and hollow of the hallowed ground and were conversant with the history of just about everything to do with the course and town.  My caddy, Susan, had trained a couple of the crows to come and visit her wherever she was on the course and in return they received a welcome handful of oats from her pocket.

It was a brilliant day out, totally enhanced by the caddies, so if you get a chance to play there, do, do take a local caddy.  You won’t regret it.

I had some very good caddies indeed when I was on tour but a real eye-opener for me was when I travelled over to play on the Asian tour and was hiring local caddies each week.  It was not uncommon for the caddies to be female and never to have hit a golf shot in their lives – but you really couldn’t fault them.  They were absolutely mustard on reading the greens and had enough English to communicate exactly what you should be doing.  I recall in my first practice round doubting the line I was being given and decided to go with my own reading of the green.  Well, that was the last time I did that!  I was miles out and they were bang on every single time.  It was a salutary lesson to me that a non-golfer was able to impart so much good advice and help to a touring professional.  It made me appreciate that you just never know where a pearl of wisdom may emanate from.  Be open and be alert.

Of course, not every caddy will work out.  In my second year on tour – and before I could afford a regular caddy – I would use a local, often a member of the host club.  I was in a pretty decent spell of form but was struggling to read the greens as well as I should so, ahead of the Dutch Open I rang the pro and asked him to organise a good caddy for me with particular emphasis on one who knew the greens well.

Imagine my surprise when, upon my arrival, a ten-year old lad was assigned to me.  Determining not to judge a book by its cover (and being mindful of the non-playing female Asian caddies) we set off to the first tee in our practice round.  I quizzed him gently on the way.

“Are you a member here?  Where are you a member?  Where do you play? ”  I was beginning to panic somewhat when all answers were in a negative vein and I finally blurted out,

“But you do know the course, don’t you?”

“Oh no,” he said without missing a beat.  “But there’s no need to worry.  All the holes are numbered!”

You couldn’t make it up.

 

 

The final scoreline in the Presidents Cup read USA 17 Internationals 13.

So, another comfortable win for the United States in this notoriously lopsided sporting contest – if it can even be called a contest?  Well, no, not quite.  Brandt Snedeker (above), the American captain, was very relieved to be able to hoist aloft the Presidents Cup at the conclusion of play.

The ole spanner had been well and truly thrown into the works on Friday when the International side had won all five foursomes matches thus assuming a lead they were not destined to relinquish until late in the singles on Sunday afternoon.  So, ultimately it was a BBU – a brave but unavailing effort that promised so much but just fell short at the line.

I had not intended to watch much of the golf at the weekend because, frankly, it didn’t capture my attention but with the Internationals holding a three-point advantage with only the singles remaining I changed my tune.  In so many ways I wish I hadn’t.

The first two singles matches were shared one apiece and America won the third one.  The remaining nine matches all went to the 17th or 18th greens but the Internationals managed only one victory and one halved match.  It was close…..but it wasn’t, if you know what I mean.

It’s never a good watch when there’s so much unedifying behaviour and lack of sportsmanship on display from the  galleries.  What is worse, however, and more worrying, is the seeming acceptance from the powers-that-be that this is ok.  I certainly didn’t see or hear of any attempts to eject any of the perpetrators who were hell-bent on gaining the home side any advantage they could.

The most blatant example was when one “fan” shouted out during Nico Echavarria’s backswing putting him off entirely in his match against Scottie Scheffler.  Scottie stepped forward to remonstrate and ultimately conceded a thirty-footer to his opponent on the green, which resulted in a half at the hole.  Later Nico said this wasn’t the only occasion on which the shouting out had occurred mid-swing.

It was commonplace for loud applause and cheering to break out the minute an International approach shot found a greenside bunker or a tee shot was trouble-bound.  Whatever happened to just being silent?  I remember those days well and I also remember there being a respectful pause before partisan galleries would then cheer their own players loudly in an attempt to spur them on to victory.  Boy, I’d love to get back to that.

I spent many years and many majors, the majority of them in the States, tramping along inside the ropes and in very close proximity indeed to the galleries.  The Ryder Cups, of course, are emotionally turbo-charged and that is where I remember the first serious flashpoint occurring.  I was out covering the top singles at Hazeltine in 2016 with Patrick Reed and Rory McIlroy embroiled in an epic battle, each playing scintillating golf over the first seven holes.  When we were on the walkway from the 7th green to the 8th tee a spectator shouted abuse right into Rory’s face and McIlroy halted mid-stride, eyeballed the fan, pointed him out to the security people and promptly had him evicted.  This was unprecedented in golf at the time.

Look where we are a decade later.

There seemed to be no effort to curb or eject disruptive jeering spectators at Medinah and, yet again, it was brought home to me how turgidly and appallingly slow golf’s main shakers and movers are to do anything to stem the seemingly inevitable exodus of anything approaching good manners and proper behaviour in our sport.

I shouldn’t really be surprised, though.  Golf is an industry with zero history of acting upon anything in a timely fashion, never mind being ahead of the curve.  There’s little evidence of anticipatory skills amongst the game’s guardians.

In the matter of technology, for example, we have known for decades that the clubs are cutting edge and to some extent skill-negating while the ball travels much too far.  Roll back is essential to keep some of our older, great courses meaningful in the modern era and to keep rounds from becoming even more of a snooze-fest as players are required to traverse an increasing number of stadium-like courses with vast distances between green and tee.  There is increasing evidence, too, that the imminent proposed roll-back is unlikely to achieve its desired effect – so……..back to the drawing board?

The perennial problem of slow play has never been seriously tackled either and there seems little real willingness to take the players on and do so – not helpful if your mission is to increase the numbers introduced to and captivated by this great game.  And of course we have the growing problem of crowd behaviour and the very real prospect of it influencing the outcome of some of our greatest events.

What bugs me, though, is we’ve known about all of these issues for years and years.  Take the Ryder Cup, for example.  Why is alcohol on sale from 7.30 in the morning?  Why are perpetrators of foul and abusive behaviour not immediately ejected and served with a life ban?  Why are are all our actions reactive and not proactive?  We’ve been able to see what’s coming down the track for a long, long time yet nothing has been done.  It leads me to believe that any action that may affect the bottom line is unlikely to be forthcoming.

Last weekend a player’s shot was entirely influenced by a supporter of the opposing side.  We saw that in spades last year at Bethpage Black in the Ryder Cup.  This time Scheffler conceded a long putt to his opponent to redress the balance and he has been lauded as a great sportsman.  Well, I would expect any decent human being to do as Scottie did.  What is WRONG with people that they hold up his action as being so commendable?  It used to be normal, it used to be expected.

Is this behaviour cultural, I wonder, or is it generational?  Probably a bit of both.  One thing it is not is acceptable – and neither is this sustained lack of action acceptable.  It sends the message that everything’s ok and this is just a bit of high-spirited banter from committed fans.  I know where I’d commit them.

And so, yes, I did regret watching the singles last weekend.  Rather than get caught up in the wonderful American fightback and resilience shown by the boys in red, white and blue, I felt sick at the seemingly inevitable degradation of manners, sportsmanship and just all-round decency in a game that for so long used to be the standard bearer for fairness and courtesy.

It’s imperative those in charge make a concerted attempt to stuff this particular genie back in the bottle.

Nowadays, it’s only on high days and holidays that I ever feel sick watching golf on the telly – but that’s what I felt watching Manuel Elvira (above) playing the last at Wentworth last Sunday.  The occasion was the DP World Tour’s flagship event, the BMW PGA Championship, and there was a stellar cast of characters in the mix right up until the final knockings.

Manuel, younger brother of three-time DP World Tour winner, Nacho, had more than a solid career in the amateur ranks, representing Spain on numerous occasions culminating in 2016 in the World Amateur Team Championships.  Turning pro in 2018 he eventually forged his way to the DP World tour in 2024, garnering six years of experience on the Alps and Hotel Planner tours (formerly the Challenge tour) along the way.

Last Sunday this 30-year old from Santander found himself in rarefied air sitting on the same score of 15 under as three major champions, Rory McIlroy, Aaron Rai and Adam Scott.  The difference was the latter three were all in the clubhouse, their campaigns completed.  Elvira was on the West Course’s notoriously 17th tee with no previous experience of a professional win to help him on his way.

He couldn’t have dreamt of a more fairytale execution of the famous par five.  A fairway finder off the tee, a long, low, drawing iron from over 280 yards to twelve feet and an eagle putt that never looked like going anywhere else but in to the hole.  In one leap he was 17 under and tied with J J Spaun, another major champ, who was just wrapping up his championship on that very number.

It was riveting stuff.  There’s nothing better in sport than seeing an unfancied contender triumph, knocking the big boys all out of the way.  But, it’s certainly not easy and sport is so, so cruel.  On this occasion it offered so much only to snatch it all away at the last gasp.

And so to the closing hole – an eminently birdieable par five.  Four for the win, five for a play-off, six for outright second.  Elvira took seven heartbreaking shots, hitting every one of them – no penalties involved.  He left the final green with his big brother’s arm around him trying to process just what had happened.  In the space of twenty minutes he had gone from experiencing a perfect eagle on the penultimate hole to the most disappointing moments of his entire career – and all in the most public, and lonely, of arenas.

I’m sure there will have been much reflection over the past week and the only way to prosper in the future is to take all the positives from the experience.  There were early signs that Elvira was attempting to do just that.  Not many minutes after the awful experience of that final hole he said:-

“I’ve played some of the best golf probably of my life.  I was in contention and I wasn’t really that nervous. Maybe coming to the 72nd hole but I managed to hit a good tee shot and unfortunately hit a bad second shot.

“It’s been a great week and I’m really glad for it.”

The harsh truth is that those three extra shots he played down that final stretch of golfing terrain cost him over a million dollars, life-changing money for a journeyman pro.

One thing about sport is the people playing it never, ever know at the time when their peak is, or is likely, to be.  They only ever know in retrospect.  Of course, we all hope and believe that the best is yet to come but it is only in hindsight that we see our whole journey.  Is this championship joint runner-up position amongst a quartet of major champions destined to be Manuel’s career highlight – or is it going to provide a springboard to bigger and better things?  I do so hope it’ll be the latter.

On our own much more humble level we, the ordinary golfers, can empathise with Elvira, most of us having experienced a little of what he went through.  How often in striving to win a club match, the monthly medal or the money in the weekly fourball have we messed up?  We’ve knocked it out of bounds, duffed a chip, shanked it out of a bunker – all at the precise moment we’ve needed our best efforts.

I recall as a teenager having an eighteen-inch putt on the final green at Castlerock to win my first-ever Ulster Championship.  There was a sizeable gallery round the green and I remember the gasp of disbelief as I didn’t even hit the hole.  I managed to pull myself together and hit a stonking drive down the 19th only to find my ball slap bang in the middle of a deep divot hole.  I hadn’t the skill to cope and lost at the first tie hole.  I was devastated – it was my equivalent of the BMW PGA Championship.

The post event analysis and how you frame the experience to yourself is crucial for the player.  Yes, be realistic in what let you down – your thinking, execution, whatever – but be realistic in what you also excelled at.  You wouldn’t have been in the position to blow it in the first place without those skills having come to the fore.

I was fortunate in having people around me who helped me frame the experience more positively than negatively and that contributed to helping me move on and grasp future opportunities rather than shying away from them.  It’s an uncomfortable old game, this golf, and the more you accept that and become accustomed to operating in that testy environment the better you’ll cope.

Hopefully, Manuel Elvira will train on, to use racing parlance.  I’ll certainly be keeping an eye out for the affable Spaniard from now on.