Golf has taken me to many wonderful places and spending a week at Pebble Beach is always going to be hard to beat.  Spectacular, jaw-dropping scenery and the opportunity to commentate from inside the ropes on every single round of Brooks Koepka, world No 1, as he attempted to become only the second person to win three consecutive US Open Championships, was a privileged and unforgettable experience.  It’s not too difficult to roll out of bed in the morning when that is what constitutes your working day.

Those of you who are members of courses that have hosted, or are about to host, a major will have some appreciation of the staggering amount of infrastructure and resource required to stage such huge events.  The overall broadcasting and media set-up alone requires the building of a mini, temporary city which becomes home to us for a week. This inaccessible, secret world, however, is unseen by the thousands of golf fans actually present at the tournament and by the millions of global television and radio listeners and watchers.  I am still somewhat surprised at finding myself part of it all.  Even after 22 years of involvement in broadcasting I sometimes feel it’s a little dream-like and I’ll wake up one day and discover I’m an accountant like Dad or my husband!  Perish the thought!

At each event we have a nerve centre from which the whole broadcast is managed.  Sometimes it’s secreted away in a portacabin in the TV compound, sometimes it’s a broadcast booth constructed out on the golf course, usually somewhere within sight of the 18th green.

Thankfully, that is not where I am closeted for the duration of the tournament.  This is the domain of the producer, the host and the analyst.  No, on arrival in the morning I beat a path from the media centre to the driving range and short game area, the office of the players for the first part of their day.  Here it is possible to witness all manner of weird and wonderful things.  All sorts of gizmos, gadgets, sticks, measuring devices and computers are pulled from the mysterious depths of huge golf bags, rather as a magician will pull a rabbit from a hat.  This signals the start of the pre-round warm up, which varies considerably from player to player.  Some are very mechanical, precise and measured in every action they take; others freewheel a little more – but they all have the same aim:  to prepare the body and mind for the best golfing performance possible for the player on that particular day.  It is a tense, watchful place.

After watching the players in my assigned group and formulating a few opinions on how they are swinging and moving it is time for me to move to the course and hope that my own preparations may lead to some insightful and entertaining commentary.  This year I was assigned the Koepka group each of the four days – the first time ever, I believe, that I have shadowed one player for the entire week of a major.  So, I suppose I’m a bit like a legalised stalker with the added bonus after each round of getting to interview Brooks and, within reason, ask him whatever I like.

On these weeks I certainly don’t have any problem keeping up my number of steps on the ole fitness tracker but at the day’s end the media centre is always a welcome sight.  I feel a little like a ship safely making it back to harbour.  Well, what a treat was in store on one of the days that I made it safely back to base!  The USGA (United States Golf Association) had set up a display of some of the most priceless items in their museum, all relating to the history of their 119-year old national championship.  The oldest item was a club made and used by Horace Rawlins during the inaugural US Open, which he won, in 1895.  Rawlins, an assistant professional at Newport (Rhode Island) Golf Club, remains the only US Open Champion to win on a course where he was employed as a professional.  For me, however, the most eye-catching item was the 1-iron that Ben Hogan used on the 72nd hole at Merion in the 1950 edition of this championship.  It’s the club featured in the iconic picture of Hogan playing into the final green and is familiar even to today’s players because it was used for years in the promotion of Hogan golf clubs.

Tucked away in another corner of the media centre were two large massage chairs – not the ones you sit astride while someone gets to work on massaging your back.  No, these were two huge armchairs with all-enveloping folds for each of your four limbs and every part of it whirred and vibrated, the whole performance being operated by a hand-held device like a TV channel changer.  “Just the ticket,” I thought at the end of one particularly gruelling day.  Positive this would revive me I climbed onto the chair and set the massage button to medium.  What a mistake!  It was like being eaten by a giant, aggressive amoeba and three minutes was all I lasted before finding the relevant “abort” button on the remote.  What a relief it was to be spat out of that chair!

I didn’t sit in it again.

And so, with glorious Pebble Beach now behind us, the major season is rattling on apace and we are already three quarters of the way through the 2019 edition.  All that remains is the Open Championship to be held at the incomparable Royal Portrush.  That will be another week to savour, in so many ways.  Can’t wait.

Boy, am I glad I’m not a proper journalist!  Once again the empty screen is looking blankly at me (or should I say I’m looking blankly at it?) and it’s time for another blog.  Ho hum!  Those of you who have faithfully followed us for over the last three years deserve a medal – hopefully you’ve had a wee bit of entertainment along the way as a reward for your persistence.

As I write I’ve not even been home two weeks from the USPGA, the second of the men’s majors, and I’ve to gird my loins and have my bags packed so I can head off at the weekend to Pebble Beach (above) for the US Open.  “Oh, shame.  Poor you,” I can hear you cry in a tone dripping with sarcasm.  Yes – I deserve that but it doesn’t change the fact that the thought of more hours at an airport is not an exciting or attractive proposition any longer, never mind what it’s doing in terms of carbon footprints and destruction of the planet.  Is it old age creeping up on me, I wonder, or perhaps the cumulative effect of having constantly travelled for more than 40 years?  Perhaps a bit of both, but I think it’s also that I’ve just had such a lovely last week/ten days that it really is becoming increasingly hard to head towards an airport.

The week kicked off with a lovely fourball at Delamere Forest, my home club.  This was my second round of golf since my back decided to play silly buggers with me out in South Africa in early February and I felt I’d been released from prison and was once again breathing fresh air.  Isn’t it amazing how your perspective of a good day’s golf changes over the years?  Once, long ago, my pleasure from the game was all outcome driven – it was the result, the score which was the only thing that mattered and if the score was bad, it had been a bad day.  I suppose that that’s understandable from an ambitious youngster who wants to represent their country and see how good they can be.

Now, however, it’s the company, the course and perhaps also the weather that are important to me.  After that the pleasure of one or two satisfyingly struck shots will be enough to bring me back out the next time, in my, now, tempered yet still ambitious, intent to play as well as I can.  I’ve learned not to let poor golf (inevitable when you don’t play that often) get in the way of my enjoyment.

After Delamere my next treat was 27 holes at the wonderful Royal Porthcawl in South Wales.  The Saturday was amazingly warm and sunny and I joined forces with two old buddies of mine – Julie Thomas and Pam Chugg, both former Welsh champions and internationals and members of the club – for a round full of laughs and the odd birdie or two.  In all my visits to Porthcawl this was the best weather I had ever encountered but the following day was nasty enough to curtail a keen Irish versus English/Welsh foursomes match to nine holes.  Ah, well that’s golf on this little island of ours.

The week was also fun, and hugely memorable, for other reasons.  Two events took place that hadn’t occurred once in the last 30 years.  The first was meeting up for lunch with my old friend Lisa Isherwood, another former Welsh international player who is now a Professor of Theology at the University of Winchester.  I think I may have mentioned elsewhere in this blog that in 1977 Lisa and I were the first two women from these shores to go to the States on a golf scholarship.  Something that is now commonplace was unheard of then and I suppose in our own little way we were trailblazers.

Upon returning home, eventually, our paths diverged and we lost touch, but this year a mooted golf reunion back in Texas sent me off sleuthing and we have reconnected, determined now not to lose touch again.  Our lunch resulted in four hours of non-stop chat and catch up (well, 30 years IS a long time) and the next date is in the diary.  I’m fully aware of, and thankful for, all my parents did for me in my life, but possibly their biggest single gift to me was introducing me to golf.  That’s the glue that binds almost all the meaningful strands of my life together.

Finally, for the first time since I was last an amateur (back in 1986) I played in a club Invitation Day!  My pal, Annette Stroud, invited me to her club Dunham Forest, near Altrincham in Cheshire.

I have played there before and the welcome is always second to none.  Paul Dennis, the club professional and a very respected teacher, is a most impressive first point of contact for visitors to the club and that quality of friendliness continues from the rest of the club staff, and, of course, from the members themselves.  We got out of jail with the weather, only getting wet on the last four holes which, given the forecast, was a minor miracle.  Still, I would play through any – and I mean ANY – conditions to reach the sanctuary of the clubhouse and the wonderful food supplied by chef Lesley Saxon.  I told her I have never eaten any food to equal hers at any golf club I have ever visited, anywhere.  And I stand by that.  Simply delicious.

The lady captain Susan Lentin presided perfectly over a great day – a lovely golf course and outstanding food.  What a winning combination!  Thank you Annette.

And now what, after such a super week?  Oh, no!  Back to the packing and the airport.

Destination Pebble, though.  Bring it on.

 

 

Over the last 26 years I’ve taught thousands and thousands of people – all ages, all shapes and sizes and all skill levels from beginner to professional.  Each category has its challenges and its rewards but I have to admit it is exhilarating to see young, blossoming talent – and it’s exciting to see that talent result in victory at the highest level, as it did last Sunday for Cheshire girl Bronte Law.

Bronte won the Pure Silk Championship in Williamsburg, Virginia, by two shots from a trio of international talent, Madelene Sagstrom of Sweden, Brooke Henderson of Canada and Nasa Hataoka of Japan.  That success was all the sweeter coming as it did just three weeks after a play-off loss in California, which was only possible because Bronte made up a 10-shot deficit with a thundering final round of 65.  Those two performances alone netted her prize money of almost $340,000 and have catapulted her some 20 places up the world rankings to 24th.

So, could I foresee this success when Bronte pitched up to the Cheshire County squad training with me a decade or so ago?  Honestly?  Absolutely not.  I’m not sure I ever believe a coach who says they always knew a particular kid was going to make it.  Yes, we can look at the talent and the technical skill of the young person but it takes years and years and years of inching forward, improving in every department and a relentless commitment to hard work and positivity to be able to compete, and ultimately win, on the hardest tour in the world.  How can you possibly know if the young 13 or 14 year old in front of you will have that sort of resolve?  Or even opportunity.

I remember one exercise I did with the squad in Bronte’s day.  I asked the girls to hit a shot with a club they didn’t think was suited to the job.  For example, it may have been trying to get out of a greenside bunker with an 8-iron or hitting to a target that was a 7-iron distance away with a 4 or 5-iron.  Bronte wasn’t impressed.  She couldn’t understand why you would bother with any of that nonsense when you had a perfectly good club for the task.  She was feisty and a little rebellious and she hated not being able to do what I’d asked.  Her immediate reaction was to be dismissive of it – it was pointless.  However, at the next session it was only Bronte, out of them all, who had gone away, explored, learned and advanced emotionally and technically.  That has stuck with me as I’ve followed her career.

And what a career it’s turning out to be.  With constant and unwavering family support she hoovered up a couple of English amateur titles as well as a record seven wins playing college golf in the States for UCLA.  This resulted in her winning the coveted ANNIKA award for the best collegiate golfer in 2016, the same year she won a maximum five points out of five in her third Curtis Cup appearance, the first player from GB&I to do so.  At the end of that year Bronte procured playing rights on the LPGA and launched her professional career in 2017.  At the end of 2018 she blitzed the field at the Ladies’ European Tour qualifying school setting records right, left and centre.  Her winning five round total of 26 under par was a new record, as was the run of nine consecutive birdies in a third round of 62.

Now she has her first LPGA win and her immediate reaction after holing the winning putt was to walk to the side of the green, on her own, away from the applauding galleries.  She just took a moment to let it sink in before turning to receive the plaudits from her caddy and fellow players.  Her winner’s interview was measured and thoughtful.

“This is something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little kid,” she said.  There was a humility there, too, as she added, “I have a long way to go in terms of where I want to be.”

Her goals and expectations of herself are very high and she may well tick another achievement off this year’s list with a Solheim Cup place on Catriona Matthew’s team at Gleneagles in September.  Certainly Catriona has been watching.

“Bronte has been in my thoughts for well over a year and has been doing really well on the LPGA recently with the second place and then the win at Kingsmill. She had a great amateur career in match play, winning all her games at the Curtis Cup [in 2016].  She obviously can’t qualify as she won’t have played her eight events, so she’ll need a pick, but yes, she’s very much in my thoughts. She would be a great addition to the team – she’s feisty and great in match play which is what you want.”

So no, I don’t think you can tell at 13 or 14 years of age if a young player has what it takes to fulfill those childhood dreams.  It’s not the shots they hit, nor the swing that’s important.  It’s all the stuff you can’t see and has yet to mature that really counts.  The heart, the resolve, the tenacity, the space between the ears, the love of a game that will batter you down and the ability to keep getting up off the canvas – those are the things that ultimately matter.  Those are the qualities that Bronte possesses.

The sky’s the limit – and I don’t think it’ll be a dull ride.