Collin Morikawa’s two-week summer trip to Britain started off in inauspicious fashion.

Prior to the Scottish Open at The Renaissance Club just outside North Berwick he was scheduled to do an interview with Sky Sports.  What he didn’t know at the time was that this was a prank planned by the ever-innovative digital content team of the European Tour.  Ever gracious, a bemused Morikawa tried to deal with a confident but wildly ill-informed interviewer (The Fake Pundit) who was, unbeknown to the American, acting under the instructions of Tour players Matt Wallace and Soren Kjeldsen who were supplying ideas and questions into his earpiece while watching it all unfold on a screen before them.

Courteously and gently Morikawa corrected the FP’s appalling gaffes but when walking away with his team, he was heard relaying the gist of the interview:  “They didn’t get one…they didn’t get one thing right.  He said he was a stats guy.  He said I’d three major wins.  He said I’d 15 holes-in-one.  He said I was named after Colin Montgomerie…and I’m a huge musician.  I can’t play a frickin’ musical instrument for my life…!”

It was at this point he was informed about the prank and his reaction was completely one of “you got me there, boys”.  No irritation whatsoever – he even turned back to the FP and the hidden camera crew and raised his hands to applaud them.  He thoroughly enjoyed the joke at his own expense.

Morikawa revealed even more of himself that week in Scotland.  Widely regarded as the best iron player in the world and with statistics supporting that contention, nevertheless he felt there was something a little “off” with that department of his game.  Of the 77 players who made the cut only five were behind him come Sunday evening so something had to be done.

He consulted with his equipment company and between them they worked out the changes he needed in his clubs to give him back the strike he was looking for, yet hadn’t achieved off the Scottish turf.  He changed his irons to a set that were a little more forgiving off links turf and immediately liked the switch.  No dissing of an equipment company for him, rather thoughtful collaboration between player and technicians and great results followed.  Morikawa may have been three years shorter on this earth than a certain other major winner but he’s a wonderfully mature human already.

The last adjustment to his Open Championship strategy was to forgo using the “saw” grip on the longer putts.  With greens running at a little over 10 on the stimp Morikawa couldn’t get the oomph needed to get the ball to the hole so reverted to a more conventional grip for the long putts while retaining his other grip for the short to medium ones.

“From outside 25, 30 feet I just couldn’t get that hit. I couldn’t get that tempo that you see, like, a Brandt Snedeker put on his putts. That is something you need out here because the greens are slower than what we’re used to playing. Just switching to conventional, I didn’t have to change anything mentally. I just kind of went at it like I normally felt and kind of matched the speeds. That’s something that without my caddie, J.J., I wouldn’t have figured out on my own.”

All of this preparation came to a head in a glorious week’s play at Royal St George’s, Morikawa’s debut Open.  He had played in all the other majors twice and was entered for the Open last year, which of course didn’t happen, so he was itching to get started in the grandest one of them all.  We all wondered how he’d cope with contending in a major in front of vast crowds fully aware that his PGA win last year was in front of only a handful of folk.

The answer was obvious very early on and as the pressure mounted over the weekend he never faltered.  His weekend total of 134 was only bettered by one man in the field – Scotland’s Bob McIntyre (132 blows) who had birdied the last on Friday evening to make the cut on the number.  He revelled in the crowds and summed up his appreciation of them with the acknowledgment that “they bring an energy and life to what we do”.

His closing speech was very assured, taking control of proceedings as to the manner born and encouraging the galleries to sing Happy Birthday to his caddy J.J.  He thanked all the right people, was gracious and humble and won many admirers, as eloquent centre stage as he had been the previous week in the spoof interview.  Two lovely moments bookending a special trip for him in which he made history by becoming the first man to win two majors on his debut.

Morikawa admitted he wasn’t much into the history of the game and, indeed, he didn’t seem to appreciate he had just become the Open Champion, nothing more, nothing less.  Not the British Open Champion.

I bet when he studies that Claret Jug, reads those names and has time to himself, he’ll be interested to know a little more about this select group he has joined.  He will inevitably be drawn into the mystery and the history of the oldest major and I guarantee next year he’ll be back to defend his Open title, nothing more, nothing less.

 

Here we are at last – the 149th Open Championship, 24 months after the 148th.  I’m sure it won’t disappoint and that it’ll be well worth the wait.

It’s 21 years since I worked at my first Open Championship as a very raw, nervous summariser for Radio 5 Live.  I was shepherded around by the inimitable Tony Adamson and learned so much from this master of nuance, teller of tales and expert at engaging an audience.  He knew when to provide biographical detail about the players, when to develop a thought or idea, when to clinically report solely on the current score and when to give way to flights of utter fancy.  I really didn’t quite appreciate then that I was learning from a golfing black belt.  What I did know was that I loved being with Tony, loved listening to him and recognised him as an empathetic golf fan to the very inner fibre of his being.  I would have paid to be with him.  Instead they paid me.

Later, a decade or so later, in fact, I moved exclusively to a television contract and my new mentor wasn’t too bad either:  Peter Alliss, the doyen of TV commentary.  Peter was helpful in every way but never shirked from telling you what he really thought.  The entire production mattered to him, not just his part in it and if you were willing to learn, he was a willing mentor.  He didn’t mind being challenged either – he rather relished it, in fact, and many’s the “spirited discussion” we enjoyed.  My last event with him was the 2019 Solheim Cup at Gleneagles.  I would have paid for that decade-plus of being with him.  Instead they paid me.

I didn’t work at the Open in 2019 – purposely and with great intent.  A member of Portrush for more than 50 years, I wanted to return to being a fan at this particular major.  I wanted to drink in the experience from the proper side of the ropes, experience the Open “in the raw” for the first time in two decades, unfettered by hours and hours of research and the requirement to present a neutral and unbiased front.

And so it was that I walked every step of that final round with Shane Lowry, in amongst the rest of the Irish population, in the cold, in the strong winds and driving rain right up until that final, triumphant surge up the last fairway to the 18th green, encircled by a giant horseshoe of a 7000-seater stand that was bristling with pride and pulsating with energy.  The sounds of the “Fields of Athenry” rang out along with “Shane-O” and “Ole, ole, ole”.  An unforgettable experience.  And this time I wasn’t being paid for it!

And so to Royal St George’s and my first thoughts turn back to 2011 and that famous windswept links on the Kent coast.  I seem to remember that that was the first year that readmittance to the course for spectators was not allowed.  In other words, if you returned to your rental house or hotel room or just nipped into the town for a cup of coffee, you were barred from re-entry that day.  I never did like that particular edict, smacking as it does of the humble fan getting the thin edge of the wedge yet again.

That year it was another triumphant Irishman on a victory march up the 72nd hole.  Darren Clarke had taken his lifetime to harness his mercurial skills, his stubborn temperament and his years of golf and life learning, bringing everything to a climax on that July Sunday afternoon.

I stood at the back of the final green for the closing half hour with Darren’s parents, Godfrey and Hettie, lovely, lovely people.  Hettie had on her “lucky” earrings, emerald shamrocks and nervously chatted on about this and that.  Finally, when Darren’s ball rested on the last green and he had several putts for the win she allowed herself to breathe, bursting out with an emotional, “I’ve waited 20 years for this.”

By contrast, Darren’s Dad stood silently by, tall and still.  I don’t think he’s a man of many words and certainly at that moment when his son become the “Champion Golfer of the Year”,  he had none but emotion and pride oozed from every pore.  Private, private moments when your offspring achieves incredible things and you are in full public view with no hiding place.  It can’t be easy.

This year will be very different for me, and lots of others, as I’ll be watching from my sofa, frankly not too disappointed to avoid pandemic bubbles, rules and regulations and the like.  Of course, that’s easy to say when you harbour a treasure trove of Open experiences and memories but I can’t wait for the possibility of a potential life-changing, unforseen drama unfolding on our screens come the weekend.

Perhaps we’ll have a two-horse race a la Mickelson and Stenson at Troon a few years ago;  perhaps it’ll be a full-throated roar greeting a home winner again; perhaps Royal St George’s will usher in another complete outsider as champion as it did in 2003 when Ben Curtis took the spoils.

Whatever it may be, the Open has a magic about it, unmatched by any other major and is enjoyably riveting from a whole host of different perspectives.

Yes, even from your sofa.

 

My week usually starts off with wondering what my blog topic will be for the rapidly advancing Friday.  This week took a little less head scratching than normal when I realised that this is the week the European Ladies’ Team Championships are being played.

Royal County Down is the stunning venue, making this the second occasion that Ireland has played host to the best women amateurs in Europe.  Nineteen teams have been testing themselves and their games over one of the finest links in the world and although Sweden may be favourites, going as they are for an unprecedented four wins in a row, there are many talented sides who are eager to seize their crown.  It’ll be a week of great golf, of that I’m sure.

When I had reason to brave the wobbly pull-down steps to the attic to search for something completely unrelated to the blog it seemed serendipitous when I accidently unearthed the clippings and photographs from a certain magical week back in the day.  This tournament was the most fun I had in the game as an amateur, bar none.  Six players make up the team and everyone plays strokeplay over the opening two days, five scores counting towards the team total each time.  The top eight teams qualify for the championship flight and the knock-out matchplay section of the week.  Two foursomes and five singles matches are then the order of the day with only the winners progressing to the next round and, if all goes well, you will have had five gruelling days of top level competition with the prospect of being named European champions at the end.

That was the happy outcome for the Irish team in 1979 when playing on home turf at the delightful Hermitage Golf Club.  Thousands of avid golf fans swarmed the fairways as they cheered the home side to their first victory in this arena.  It was a week I’ll never forget.  Those were the days of column inches (and lots of them) in the newspapers as you can see below in a pot-pourri of headlines heralding our victory.

Victory is special at any time – and you take those wins when you can – but a home turf win is indescribable.  I think it’s a combination of overcoming the extra pressures on you (perceived or otherwise), but the crowning glory has to be the joyous sharing of the victory and celebrating with friends, family and enthusiastic golf fans.  And we have a lot of those in Ireland – just ask Shane Lowry.

Those were new international blazers we acquired for that tournament and I recall that when meeting in Dublin airport to travel to subsequent away venues we were frequently stopped and asked where the Aer Lingus check-in was for such and such a flight.  I don’t think for one moment we were ever quite as immaculate as real flight attendants – and we certainly were not quite as accurate with our directions as we should have been!

In 1981 we went to defend our title in Troia in Portugal – in those days the championships were played every other year – and a shift in the amateur golfing landscape as we knew it was apparent for the first time.  Sweden were there with seemingly multiple uniforms, sponsored team bags and, whisper it softly, individual funding for their players.  They each even had a daily allowance.  It was the first taste of professionalism that I can recall creeping into the game and from that point on Sweden has done so much to lead the way for the rest of Europe in preparation, approach and funding.

And now a seismic shift of epic proportions is about to take place as regards the rules of amateur status worldwide.  Last week the US Supreme Court ruled that collegiate athletes could be paid for the use of their name, image or likeness.  In other words, they can be sponsored by any commercial enterprise, represent multiple companies and receive payment for endorsements.  The only difference from the professional athletes is the college player cannot have a contract that pays out dependent on his or her performance – so no increased earnings for a top-ten finish or a win.  It does mean, however, that the best players will be allowed to make considerable sums before they turn professional.

Sports Illustrated have intimated that a young Louisiana State University gymnast, Olivia Dunne, who has 4 million TikTok followers and a million on Instagram, will be the first to become a millionaire this way.  It certainly lends new meaning to the phrase “working your way through college”.

What will be of interest is to understand the route the R&A will choose to plot their way through this latest challenge, committed as they are to maintaining both amateur and professional codes, as opposed to being “open” like tennis.  Interesting times ahead for our sport.

In closing, I must indulge myself by congratulating Carol Wickham on her stunning victory in last week’s Irish Senior Women’s Amateur Championship.  Carol was a teammate of mine in a  winning Irish team in the European Team Championships in 1983 in another lifetime.  I can guarantee that there won’t be a more popular winner of a national title and while she may not be tucking away a million in endorsements, I bet the title – and the party – was worth just as much to Carol.

 

It’s hard to know where to look at the moment with all the sport that’s filling our time and our screens of various sizes.  Wherever you do look, however, it seems that there’s a member of the Korda family right there in the thick of things.

Last weekend, Nelly, 22 years of age, won her first major – the KPMG Women’s PGA Championship – and ascended to No 1 in the world, the first American to do so since Stacy Lewis in 2014.  By doing so she is fulfilling the weighty expectations that have followed her all her life.

Her sister, Jess, who is five years her senior, has also half a dozen wins on tour including one this year, and when she turned professional back in 2011, she broke the news that her younger sister would be following along in a few years and was a much better player.  This was no idle boast and Nelly has won three times this year alone, including that precious first major and top world ranking.

Two hours before Nelly holed the winning putt on the 18th green Jess holed for a birdie, securing her place on the American team for the Olympics in a few weeks time in Tokyo.  The sisters are joined by Danielle Kang and Lexi Thompson and they will have a chance to catch up with their 20-year old brother Sebastian who will be representing the US in tennis.

This week Seb is in the main draw at Wimbledon having won his first big title last month.  He’s accompanied by his Dad, Petr, former world No 2 and grand slam champion.  Mum Regina, herself a former tennis professional who reached number 26 in the world and who represented Czechoslovakia in the 1988 Olympics, was in Atlanta at the golf with her daughters.

As regards sporting pedigree the Korda family has arguably no peer.  It was, therefore, illuminating, if not disturbing, to hear Nelly open up at the start of last week about the mental health of athletes whom we mere mortals tend to think have it all.  She said she was encouraged to speak out after Matthew Wolff, one of the young stars on the PGA Tour, admitted to struggling for many months this year, hating the limelight and at times finding it hard to get out of bed.  Nelly hasn’t found it easy either and has worked very hard over the last few tournaments to recapture the enjoyment of simply being out on the golf course.

Now, this is where, in my experience, the general public tends to fall into one of two camps.  You are either full of sympathy for the athlete and the relentless pressures of following a long-held dream.  Having to explain every dip in form, keeping positive and acquiring the skill of separating your own self-worth from your performance is a difficult task in the face of a run of bad play.  And, of course, all and sundry feel entitled to comment, critique and generally dissect your performance, your work ethic, your lifestyle and often (in the case of the women particularly) your looks.

On the other hand, many who have jobs they hate and who are locked into lives they dislike find it impossible to feel empathy for those who seemingly have it all.  Their take is that sure, these athletes may live in a goldfish bowl but they’ve never really had a real job, have they?  What’s their problem?  They’ve only got to chase a little white ball round a field/sharpen up their footie skills/service action/place kicking/hurdling technique (insert appropriate phrase) and they’ve tons of time off during the day.  AND they’ve probably got a few million tucked away in the bank, undoubtedly no mortgage to pay and they can walk away from their “job” whenever they feel like it.

Maybe if we’re honest with ourselves we have a couple of toes in each of these camps.  It is undeniable, however, that as taboos surrounding mental health issues lessen and we become more open in discussing the topic it is worrying how many people are really struggling.  My own feeling is that we mustn’t let envy of another’s material goods and assets determine whether we empathise with their struggles or are dismissive of them.  It’s akin to the thinking that if we could only win the lottery all our worries would be over.  That is hardly ever the case as the acquisition of wealth, which so many of us crave, often results in nothing more than replacing one set of challenges with another.  Everyone who is struggling, regardless of their position on the socio-economic scale, deserves our support, our help and empathy.

It does give pause for thought when Nelly Korda speaks out from the bosom of arguably the highest-achieving sporting family on the planet.  No matter how things appear from the outside it is not usually just quite as rosy as you may think.  So let’s keep our eyes and ears open to be ready, willing and able to help, listen and support those we may come across in our own little worlds.  We must look out for each other.

That, after all, is our job as members of the human race.

[Thanks to Nelly and Jess’s twitter feeds for the photos.]