I’m looking out at a dreich Cheshire morning.  The rain is spilling from the skies and I’m losing the resolve to last out till October before lighting the fire.  I’m not going to make it.

The sister is an hour up the road at Hoylake, or Royal Liverpool, to give it its proper title, home of next year’s Open Championship.  She’s playing in an AGW (Association of Golf Writers) event and when she rang from there she, too, was looking out at tumbling, relentless rain.  “I’m not going out in this if it’s like this tomorrow,” she declared.  I didn’t fancy her chances of getting to unleash her rather unorthodox action on one of our finest courses

The weather is mirrored by my lack of inspiration for a blog topic for this week and apathy and a distinct lack of action abound.  I don’t particularly want to write about the Presidents Cup and another comfortable win for the US although, in fairness, the International team made a decent fist of things after an appalling opening two days.

Leona Maguire, trooper that she is, flew from the west coast of America to play at Dromoland Castle in the west of Ireland and came up a shot shy of a play-off, all the time fighting jet-lag and shouldering the expectations of a nation.  She’s some girl.

So, there was nothing for it but to resort to the huge bowl containing little books of matches, collected from the Madill golfing travels all over the world.  For those who don’t know, this collection was started by Mum (a non-smoker) decades ago when every hotel, pub and even golf course had little books of matches scattered about for their customers’ use.  Dig your hand into the bowl, rummage around for a bit and whatever book of matches is pulled out will surely trigger a memory or yarn from times past.  It’s a real memory bowl, reminiscent of the memory pool-y type thing in Harry Potter, the name of which, true to form, I can’t remember.

The book of matches that surfaced this time was from the University Park Hotel, Gold Coast, Australia.  That was a result!  One abiding memory was instant and I could almost feel the sunshine soaking into my bones.  Again, I thought of Mum who always loved following the golf being played in far-away, hot places during our winter.

In the 1990s, in February/March time I used to go out to play two or three tournaments on the Australian tour.  The WPGA Tour Australasia is now going from strength to strength under the admirable guidance of Karen Lunn, former Women’s Open Champion and Ladies’ European Tour stalwart.  Back in the day, we had two or three main tournaments with a handful of pro-ams sprinkled in between.  It was in one of these breaks that I was persuaded to go on a little jaunt with Alison Nicholas of major championship and Solheim Cup fame.

We were staying at the University Park hotel and Ali had booked a flight to Cairns intending to go from the tournament and have two or three days scuba diving off the Great Barrier reef.  A qualified diver, she was keen to have company but none of the Aussies (who were all good divers) was free so I said I’d go with her and have a few days’ break but I would not be diving.

On the way up in the plane I was asking Ali about her training, which she’d done in the UK.  I found it really interesting and I remember asking her what on earth you did if your mask filled with water.  She demonstrated how you put the heel of your hand on a certain place on the mask and then lifted it up so the vacuum you had created would whoosh out the water gathering in the mask.  (Apologies to divers if these details are sketchy/mis-remembered/wrong, whatever.)  She’d had several training sessions in swimming pools to perfect this and many other techniques.  Ali’s enthusiasm was infectious and I was looking forward to the break, reading, soaking up the sun and exploring.

When we checked in to our hotel there was a huge notice at reception:  “Great Barrier Reef.  Hand-held dives;  Leaving tomorrow 7.30am.  No previous experience necessary.  Sign up.”  That was it – those four little words did it.  No previous experience necessary.  I signed up.

The following morning we had a three-hour trip out to the outer reef and the chance to meet our instructor.  There were only three in our group as most of the divers were Japanese and with the Japanese instructors.  The third member of our group was a guy our age and as inexperienced as I was so I felt a little more reassured.  I repeatedly said I had no experience whatsoever, had never had a wetsuit on, never mind tanks on my back and the answer came back, “Don’t worry.  This is what we do.”

Suited and booted we stood on a little pontoon at the side of the boat, had five minutes’ instruction and then, motioning to us to follow him, the instructor was off, into the deep.  Two seconds later I was on my own as the others followed suit.  This was it……did I go or stay?  I took a deep breath and went.

I was now diving in the most amazing, beautiful place in the world…..and I hated it.  I was terrified from beginning to end, severely distressed and my jaw was so tightly clenched it ached afterwards for days.  The guy in our group was taking to it all like the proverbial fish to water which served to make me feel I was inadequate and making a mountain out of a molehill.  Ali was away off exploring the wonders before us and the instructor, despite remaining at my side, seemed oblivious to how I was feeling.

Remnants of Ali’s and my conversation from the plane the previous evening came flooding back to me.  I knew you could absolutely not bolt for the surface under any circumstances, yet that was what every fibre of my being was screaming to do.  I felt my mask filling with water and tried to ignore it but it kept on.  I have no recollection of where the instructor was at this point.  It came to the bit that I had to try and clear my mask and the thought occurred to me that it was strange that it could all end down here.

I faithfully tried to reproduce what Ali had told me and lifted my mask.  I couldn’t believe it!  It worked! When I replaced my mask there was no water on the inside.  I felt euphoric but not as euphoric as when the instructor signed that we were going to start ascending.  When we got back on the pontoon I felt utterly sick to my stomach.  It was the worst forty minutes of my life and the result was that I threw up every couple of minutes for the next seven hours.  I truly know the meaning of being sick with nerves.

You’ll not be surprised to learn that Ali was on her own diving for the next couple of days.

I suppose the fact that our companion in the group had no problem made me feel that the lack was in me.  However, when we returned to the next tournament the Aussies were keen to know how we’d got on.  Rather shamefacedly I told them.  They were aghast, outraged and couldn’t believe that I was taken down there with no experience and five minutes’ instruction.  They couldn’t have been more appalled which served to make me feel a lot better.

So, it was back to tournament life and what I was used to – grinding to make the cut.  Five pars to finish and ensure playing at the weekend when you can’t hit your hat?

Pah!  Wee buns.

 

* The Wirral weather turned out better than ours and P played – and won.  Perhaps her long-suffering colleagues regretted neglecting their rain dance?

 

Once upon a time there were two Irish golfing pals, one from Belfast and one from Dublin, and after many years of working hard at their games and playing all over the country in various teams and championships, they decided to plan a very big trip indeed – to the United States of America.  They decided to travel to Wisconsin to play in the US Mid-Amateur Championship, a competition for those over 25 years of age and with a handicap index of 3.4 or lower.  The crock of gold they were seeking at the end of the rainbow was the Robert T Jones Jr Memorial Trophy (see pic at top.)  Despite the fact that they were very good players indeed and had both played for Ireland they were nervous about taking their games overseas to America.

So they began to plan their trip months and months in advance and they worked out all the details of their big adventure.  They were going to play at a course called Erin Hills.  That was surely a great omen for, according to folklore, Erin was the name given to the island of Ireland, being named after the goddess, Eriu.  And the emblem of the club was a shamrock!  Surely that was another omen for a successful trip?  Even so, they were nervous and wondered if they would even make the cut into the match play stages.

When they got there and found where they were staying, they went out to look at the course.  They both liked it very much indeed and the rolling hills and waving grass reminded them of home.  And there were shamrocks everywhere they looked.  They began to think they might do OK.  But they had another course to look at as well because all 246 competitors had to play 18 holes on each course and only the best 64 would get through to the match play stages.

There were many famous people playing in the championship including the defending champion Stewart Hagestad, who had played three times in the Walker Cup.  When the press was handed information about players likely to contend for the title, neither of the Irish boys was mentioned on the list, but they didn’t mind.  They were enjoying themselves, travelling and staying together and finding great places to eat.

On the first day of the championships, a Saturday, the defending champion started with a marvellous score of 64 on the additional course used in the qualifying, the Blue Mound Golf & Country Club.  One of our Irish boys was thrilled to open with a 66 on the same course and his friend shot a two over par 72, which was a bit of a miracle given he was five over after his first six holes.  So they were both in pretty decent shape with the famous Erin Hills to play the next day.

That’s when mother nature decided to play a part.  Up to five inches of rain fell on the second day and no play was possible because both courses were flooded.  Our two players idled away the hours waiting to see if the weather would lift.  Some players were getting more and more nervous with all the waiting but if you come from Ireland you get quite used to that sort of thing.

The next day, Monday, no play was possible until the afternoon and virtually all the players had to finish their second qualifying round on the Tuesday.  Thankfully, our two Irish lads coped very well with all the waiting and hanging about. “It was four days for the two rounds and some uncomfortable waits, but I am glad to get it done,” one said after shooting 70 for a five under total that saw him tied fourth in the qualifying.  His pal shot a brilliant 66 at Erin Hills to be tied sixth on three under.

The big adventure was going rather well and both felt they could relax a little and enjoy themselves going into the matchplay stages.

They were delighted to see they were in opposite sides of the draw to each other and they thought to themselves, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could meet in the final?” even though they knew the odds were against them. They hadn’t much time to dwell on that thought, however, as they had to go out that afternoon in their first round matches which they knew wouldn’t get finished because of all the storm delays they had suffered.

Wednesday dawned with some decent weather and proved to be a day of almost non-stop golf for our heroes.  When they did, finally, get back to the house they were staying in, they were both unbeaten, having successfully finished off their first round matches in the morning and then won another match apiece in the afternoon.  There were now only sixteen players left out of the 246 who had started out on Saturday and still no one in America mentioned either of the Irish lads as potential winners of the trophy.

The magic continued the next day with each player recording two more victories apiece (one of them at the 20th) and now they were in the semi-finals.  They had to pinch themselves to make sure they weren’t dreaming….and they weren’t!

On the Friday morning each of the two semi-finals was contested between one Irish player and one American player but Erin Hills was well and truly favouring the Irish by this stage and our boys each won on the 16th green.

They looked at each other in disbelief – were they going to wake up to find it all a dream and that in reality they hadn’t actually left Ireland yet?  But, no, it was all true.  They were making history in lots of ways, not least because the 36-hole final was due to be contested with a night’s break between the two rounds – all down to the storms that had disrupted the normal timetable.

After the first 18 holes one of the lads was 2 up and they wearily packed the clubs away and went home and enjoyed a steak dinner together, getting ready for an early start the next morning.  The leader did well the next day, too, rushing through the first nine holes to be four up with only nine to go and then five up with only six to go.  It looked all over but his friend began to produce birdie after birdie after birdie and suddenly he was only two up with three to play.  Both players were very tired and very tense at this stage, giving of their best but it was too big a deficit for the chaser to make up and the match finished on the 35th green.

It was the end of a very long, tiring, exciting, history-making week for the two friends.  They had planned a dream trip and had a great adventure and it had as perfect an ending as possible.

Take a bow, Matt McClean, of Malone and Hugh Foley, of Royal Dublinn.

Firstly, many thanks to those of you who have been in touch offering advice and ideas as to how I may fill my time if I do, indeed, find myself unable to get back out onto the golf course.  It’s been entertaining and informative all in one go and I will definitely try out a few of your suggestions.

Secondly, well done to those of you who correctly identified two of Wales’s finest, seen here below playing a friendly game at Wimbledon.

On the left is Jane Peel, nee Roberts, who played golf for the Principality at junior level and on the right is her doubles partner Pam Chugg, nee Light, who represented Wales at full international level, as well as hoovering up tons of titles and awards along the way.

Pam was refereeing this week at the R&A Women’s and Men’s Senior Home Internationals which took place at Pyle & Kenfig, a wonderful course a mere stone’s throw from its better-known neighbour Royal Porthcawl.   It’s a great stretch of golfing landscape, which I’ve been fortunate to visit a few times down the years, starting with playing in the junior home internationals and the British Girls’ Championship back in the mid-seventies.

I can honestly say that if I were to declare a favourite nine holes anywhere, it’d be hard to look past the second nine at P&K.  After hitting your tee shot at the 10th I recall the overriding feeling of being subsumed by the majestic dunes, the beautiful turf and the golfing challenge all around.  Truly unforgettable.

There’s been a new format for these championships this year with mixed teams of 14, seven men and seven women, battling to become overall champions.  There are six foursomes matches in the morning, alternating women’s and men’s pairings, followed by 12 singles matches, again alternating women’s and men’s matches.  The historic trophies for the countries winning the separate men’s and women’s championships are still awarded but it’s the overall mixed team winners that will have the serious bragging rights.  So, huge congratulations to Scotland on sweeping the board in this inaugural series – even though it was at the expense of Ireland….

There has been lightning change recently in the running of golf, seemingly accelerated since the pandemic, whereby all manner of championships, whether it’s girls’ and women’s or boys’ and men’s, seem to have amalgamated into playing at the same time at the same venue.  And as at Pyle and Kenfig some men’s and women’s teams are joining forces in having their own events.  On the one hand it makes a lot of sense to play several championships during the same week at the same venue.  It only requires the golfing bodies to find one host club and take up the course for one week, whereas in the past it would have required two separate weeks, two different venues, two different lots of championship officials and, crucially, two lots of expenses!

I can’t help but feel, however, that the plethora of national age group championships and the crammed fixture list is contributing to devaluing some of our great old individual titles.  It used to be that as amateurs we had two or three “majors” each year.  Now, they seem to come along like London buses and every Tom, Dick and Jane seems to be a champion of some sort or other.  It’d be a bit like having eight or ten majors a year in the pro game.

Talking of the pro game, I think the DP World Tour got it absolutely right last week at Wentworth with first suspending play and then curtailing the championship to 54 holes.  They reacted to the very sad news of the death of Queen Elizabeth II swiftly and with dignity (see top picture and the flag at half mast).

By Sunday it was a bit of a light relief to be able to indulge in a little restrained whooping and hollering when Shane Lowry won the curtailed BMW PGA Championship, an event that has been on his bucket list for a long time after a couple of near misses.  As an unashamed supporter of all Irish golfers I was in the happy, no-lose situation of waiting to see, a) would this be Shane’s first win since the Open at Portrush or b) would it be a Shane/Rory play-off?

Shane’s two shots into the final green were reminiscent of his play when he won the Open and his closing birdie was just enough for him to squeak home.  After the Clara man prevailed Rory revealed they were both staying in the area that evening so would probably head out together to have a bit of a celebration.

Meanwhile, out on the PGA Tour Champions in St Louis, Padraig Harrington held a one-shot lead going into the final round and had time to watch the TV coverage from Wentworth.  Undoubtedly inspired by Shane’s bogey-free play for the week of the tournament, Padraig went out and continued his education in “winning from the front” as he puts it.  Yet again he was successful, tucking away his third victory in his last seven starts in this, his rookie year as a senior.

Once he’d finished his media and tournament duties he decided to give Shane a ring to congratulate him, confident that, although 3.30 in the morning in London, Shane would be having a bit of a party.  When Shane didn’t pick up, Padraig was disappointed, dubbing his countryman “a lightweight”.

Don’t worry, Padraig, some of us are happy enough to celebrate properly for you both.

Once upon a time the World Amateur Team Championships were big news in the global amateur golf world so I was shocked to learn they almost tiptoed past me unnoticed in the last couple of weeks.  Unfortunately, nowadays lack of coverage tends to be the lot of most golf tournaments that don’t reward the players with wheelbarrow-loads of cash.

The women and men play in successive weeks over the same venue.  This year France were the hosts and utilised two courses for the championships – Le Golf National (2018 venue for the Ryder Cup) and Golf de St Nom-la-Breteche, both in tip-top condition.  Teams of three play 72 holes of strokeplay with the best two scores counting each day.

Massive congrats must go to the Italian men’s team for winning the Eisenhower Trophy for the first time in their history – in fact it was the first time they’d had any kind of a podium finish and last week they came top out of 60 teams, edging the Swedes by a shot and consigning multiple winners, the United States, to the bronze medal position.  The best of the four home countries was a highly creditable tied eighth place for Wales.

In the women’s battle for the Espirito Santo Trophy Sweden prevailed (see pic at the top) with the USA second and Germany third.  The best showing by one of the four home countries was tied seventh for Scotland.

Back in my day, England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales made up one team, Great Britain and Ireland.  I did make the team on one occasion and had the unforgettable thrill of playing Pinehurst No 2 in North Carolina.  Patricia was there covering the men’s and women’s tournaments for Golf World magazine and, if I recall rightly, it was one of her first, if not THE first-ever golf writing assignment.  I’m not sure we gave her too much to write home about that year but nothing daunted, she stayed on for the Eisenhower Trophy the following week, meeting both her future husband and best man.  It’d be interesting to look back at her reports from that week to see if she’d been inspired or, more likely, was lacking in concentration!

There’s no doubt the Italian success reflects a quickening of the golfing heartbeat in that country, which is surely only set to continue as we begin the lead up to the Ryder Cup in Rome in twelve months’ time.

I see the European captain Luke Donald has reinstated a GB&I versus Europe team matchplay event, namely The Hero Cup, to be played in Abu Dhabi in January.  Reminiscent of the Seve Trophy, this contest will feature ten players a side with all ten playing in each of three sessions of foursomes, fourballs and singles.  It’s great to give players the opportunity to tee it up, knowing they are on the radar of the captain and it will be invaluable for Donald and his assistants, who this year will have the luxury (or is that headache?) of six picks.  It’ll certainly be a very different-looking European team with Sergio, Casey, Poulter and Westwood almost guaranteed not to feature.

Changing tack completely, we have a new member of the family, whom we have also called Donald.  No, not a nice, bouncing, friendly dog that requires lots of walking.  This Donald is not quite so welcome, being some sort of semi-tropical amoebic parasite discovered in my blood about a month ago, although goodness knows how long he’s been there, lying dormant, waiting to be triggered by Covid.  Well, if you have the kitchen sink thrown at you, post Covid, at my age, they’re bound to come up with something!  It’s apparently not possible to catch Donald in this country but it is in some parts of the United States, so that seems to be where I met my unwelcome friend.  The fact that he is likely American, extremely unpleasant and pretty difficult to get rid of all contributed to his naming.

It’s odds-on now that I’ll see this year out without playing a single hole of golf and that set me thinking as to what I might do or what hobby I could take up if my playing days are, indeed, over.  I don’t have to look too far to see what friends and some colleagues from earlier tour days have done.

One has become a real cycling aficionado, filling Facebook with wonderful pictures of 80 – 100 mile daily rides in the most stunning scenery.  Not sure I could ever get my behind into the sort of shape that would tolerate sitting on those razor-like saddles for that length of time.  Another has taken to the hills, rambling and learning about the countryside while others have taken to painting, sculpture and all sorts of tasks that require dexterous skills with the hands – skills which I definitely do not possess.  One famous friend has become a wonderful photographer and, as most of you know, we feature her pictures regularly.

Please do flood me with ideas and recommendations.  I really would welcome your input but don’t suggest gardening – not user-friendly for my creaky back,  What would YOU do if you stopped playing?  And would you/have you missed golf?

I’ll leave you with a little test.  Here’s a photo of two great pals of mine, both of whom played International representative golf.  They are both still playing golf, but tennis is a great love of both of them.  Here they are playing at Wimbledon the other week – can you identify them?  And which country/countries did they represent?  Answers will be provided next week.

There is obviously so much more to enjoying life than playing golf and honing in on a complete year without playing I’m beginning to understand exactly what one pal said to me some years back – it’s a very easy game not to play.  There’s something inside me, though, that says I shouldn’t give in without a bit more of a fight.

Thoughts?