Last week, when I realised that Padraig Harrington was in with a chance of winning his first tournament in quite a while, I plonked myself in the armchair to cheer him on and found myself captivated by a rather lovely Italian called Andrea Pavan.  I have to confess that I thought he was French at first because one of the on-course How’s it lying Clives called him Andre – or at least that’s what I heard – but I twigged eventually.

So it was Viva Italia once again and another second place for Padraig to add to his impressive collection.  I was disappointed that he didn’t win but delighted that Andrea, who looked ecstatic, dazed and amazed all at once, had snatched his maiden European Tour victory in grand style, coming home in 31, five under par, with birdies at the 10th, 12th, 14th, 16th and 17th.

Then they showed the leaderboard and I was so ecstatic, dazed and amazed all at once that I went, “Wow, that’s fantastic,” out loud.  That’s what happens when you live on your own, you talk to yourself, some of it profound (?!), a lot of it rubbish.  Some sort of slippery slope I suppose.  Anyway, what impressed me was the diversity, the way that golf has worked its way in to pretty well every corner of the globe.  

Root out your atlas and we’ll work our way down the leaderboard at the D+D REAL Czech Masters at Albatross Golf Resort, Prague.  Golf in Prague, for goodness sake and this is how the final standings read, by country:  Italy, Ireland, Malaysia, England, Scotland, South Africa, India, Sweden, France, Denmark, USA, Belgium, Thailand, Austria, Spain, Australia, Zimbabwe, Greece, South Korea, Germany.  By my reckoning (taking into account ageing eyes, titchy print and the inevitable margin for error of the mathematically challenged), there were 20 countries represented in the top 30 places.  Wow.  Fantastic.  That’s what I call a global tour.

At the golf club the other day I happened to mention that the World Amateur Team Championships were in Ireland over the next two weeks and wasn’t that exciting.  Dead silence.  No one knew what I was talking about.  I’m a fan of the WATCs because Maureen played in the Espirito Santo (the women’s version) at Pinehurst in 1980 and I met Dai (dear reader, I married him) at the Eisenhower Trophy (the men’s comp) that year.  It’s a big thing, not least because of the numbers involved.  At Carton House, near Maynooth in county Kildare, women from 57 countries are competing and next week there’ll be 71 men’s teams.

For many years Ireland, Wales, Scotland and England combined as GB and I (Great Britain and Ireland) but now they enter as separate entities.  Mo’s was a GB and I team that consisted of her, Mary McKenna and Belle Robertson, with Maire O’Donnell from Donegal as captain.  McKenna was injured just before the start and Jane Connachan, a very young Scot, was drafted in to replace her.  At least now 12 players have a chance to take part instead of three and two years ago, in Mexico, Ireland’s women won the bronze medal, a great effort.

They’ll have to go some to match that this year after the USA rocketed into first place after the 2nd round, posting a total of 272, one shot ahead of South Korea (officially the Republic of Korea), the defending champions and two ahead of Japan.  Ireland’s team of Olivia Mehaffey, Annabel Wilson and Paula Grant were on 288, sharing 10th place with Mexico.  Wilson, an ebullient teenager, had a 74, one over par, on the O’Meara course yesterday but was overshadowed by her playing partners Jennifer Kupcho and Ayean Cho, who had 65 and 64 respectively.  Kupcho, from Colorado, is ranked No 1 in the world and the Korean Cho’s 64 was the lowest score of the week.  Kupcho’s teammate Kristen Gillman also had a 65 so Lilia Vu, the third American, found her score of 69, four under par, discounted!  It’s a tough school.

Looking ahead to 2020, when the Curtis Cup will be held in Conwy, north Wales, not far from where I’m writing this, Elaine Ratcliffe has been named as captain.  Hooray.  The personable Englishwoman, who’s from Cheshire originally, had a distinguished amateur career before turning professional but was reinstated as an amateur in 2008 and has captained England teams at various levels.  She’ll also lead the Vagliano Trophy and Astor Trophy teams next year.  And Ireland’s Maria Dunne will captain GB and I in next year’s Junior Vagliano Trophy at Royal St George’s.  Hooray again.

Finally, the team of the month award must go to Lahinch, whose women won the All-Ireland Senior Cup for the first time when they tonked Elm Park 4 1/2 – 1/2 in the final at Knock GC in Belfast.  It’s a fantastic achievement and I trust the team and their supporters will be celebrating for a while yet.

 

Ryan Brooks, a former club champion at Whittington Heath, who has hopes of making it to European Tour School, had a hole-in-one at our 4th hole yesterday but it was not just any old hole-in-one; it was hard-earned, taking as it did nearly a day of unremitting toil.

Remember the agonies of Edoardo Molinari, brother of Francesco, the Open champion, when he was given 500 goes to achieve a hole-in-one and failed?  Edoardo hit the pin at least once and came agonisingly close on several other occasions but he didn’t make it and at the end collapsed flat on his back on the tee.  It’s well worth a look on YouTube.  Apparently the odds on a professional golfer scoring a hole-in-one are 2,500 to 1, so they are relatively rare beasts and feted accordingly.

They’re flukey things, holes-in-one, arguably revered above and beyond what they deserve and last week I had them trumping a 59, still a rare score at the top level.  Triple acer Ali Gibb was on Woman’s Hour this week, interviewed by the sainted Jenni Murray, who has no clue about golf but ventured out of the studio to mark Ali’s unique feat – three holes-in-one in 36 holes, on the same day, on a proper golf course.  She’s now renowned throughout the golfing world (Ali not Jenni, who remains steadfastly untouched by the game:  “Chips?  I thought you were going to give me a lesson, not lunch……”)

Ryan may not reach the heights of a Woman’s Hour feature but his was a monumental feat nonetheless.  He holed out with his 716th shot (roughly 10 rounds worth) and was out there beating balls for six hours and eight minutes.  The 4th measures 172 yards from the white tees and he teed off just in front of them, using a mat to save tearing up the turf.  His club of choice was “a soft 8-iron”.

I was there for shot No 700 and Ryan had a nice rhythm going, pausing only to let members and visitors play through.  If only I’d stayed a little longer!

Ryan took centre stage because the Pros’ Charity Challenge, an annual feat of endurance and record breaking undertaken for the captains’ charity, had to be postponed because Mike Raj, our head pro, was poorly.  He and Dan Whitby-Smith were to spend 12 hours – from 0730 to 1930 – playing the course, on foot, with only one club each.  They’d both decided on a 7-iron but, who knows, that could be subject to change now that they have more time to think.  Why on earth are they attempting this?  Well, they’re both lovely men if completely daft and every year they rack their brains to come up with something suitably demanding to boost the charity coffers and leave them on their knees.  It’s The Alzheimer’s Society this year.

Last Sunday, we had a charity cricket match at Tamworth Cricket, Hockey and Squash Club, a ground usually graced by more skilled performers than some of us on view.  We did have proper cricketers on each side but they had to dumb down for the women who had never learned to play and the children who were just starting.  At least it meant that I was bowled at underarm, with a soft ball, so did not have to wear pads (have you ever tried walking in pads, let alone running in them?)  Somehow I scored 7 runs and managed to avoid doing much in the field other than retrieving the ball (a proper, hard, red cricket ball) from the hedge.  I hadn’t appreciated that you’d have real trouble playing cricket if you were colour-blind.  Aren’t red and green the colours that cause the most problems?

Anyway, somehow, despite having only eight players in the field, we managed to win and Karen Crarer, the ladies’ captain, received the trophy from Mike Raj.

I suppose I’d better explain the lovely image at the top of the blog.  It’s to celebrate my most exciting moment of the week – I know, I know:  Get A Life……..I came home yesterday to find an intriguing parcel in the postbox.  What on earth had I been sending for?  Aren’t I meant to be saving up for some long-haul trips and limiting my non-essential spending?  Well, I removed the packaging, put it in the recycling (I would have inserted that annoying emoji with the halo but couldn’t work out how to do it on this machine) and screeched with joy.  There was a slim, dark navy blue tin with the Spurs logo on it and not a Nike swish in sight, thank goodness.  There are few things I like better than a good tin and this one has a picture of our new stadium on the inside of the lid, oh dreams of glory, glory days ahead!

 

Just one last word, about Tiger versus Phil in Las Vegas in November.  Why?  No, don’t even try to explain or justify it. My first last word was Yuk.  And I think that’ll do.  I double checked that it’s a bona fide word, in the dictionary, so that’s me expressing extreme distaste or disgust and total disinterest.  And that really will be my last word on the matter.

I see that the lovely Brandt Snedeker (the computer nearly slipped in the surname Sneaker) has had a 59 in the first round of the Wyndham Championship at Sedgefield Country Club in Greensboro, North Carolina.  Well done him.

He holed a 20-foot putt at his last hole (the 9th) to hit the magic mark, to finish 11 under par.  I have to admit that when I switched on the telly yesterday afternoon to have a look at the golf (NOW tv is doing one of its Sky Sports deals, so I was tempted in), I noticed that Snedeker, who was on the 9th hole, had a wee (-10) by his name.  That can’t be right I thought, it must be something to do with his place in the FedEx Cup standings or some such esoteric thing.  Even though one of his playing partners then had (E), for even, beside his name, I dismissed it and switched off!   More fool me but at least I can console myself with the thought that I really was there, on the golf course, in person, when Annika Sorenstam had her 59 at Moon Valley, in Phoenix, Arizona, all those years ago.  Snedeker has joined a distinguished and not all that long list on the PGA Tour but Annika is still up there (or down there) on her own on the LPGA.

Still, pride of place this week must go to Ali Gibb, a 51-year old, six-handicap member of Croham Hurst GC in South Croydon, Surrey.  Last Tuesday, she became the club champion for the umpteenth time but, remarkably, in her 36 holes, she recorded THREE holes-in-one.  That’s right, she HOLED IN ONE THREE TIMES in two rounds, twice at the 5th, 127 yards and once at the 11th, 160 yards.

Ali described the day as “weird….very, very strange.”  She finished her first round with a 9, started her second round with an 8 and in the course of the day had every number from 1 (THREE TIMES!) to 9.  “Our pro Adam [Aram] came up to me  and said, ‘I’ve had one hole-in-one in 42 years, you’ve just had three in five hours.”

Well done Ali on the golfing achievement of the week.

Congrats also to Iceland, who won the mixed team event in the European Championships on the PGA Centenary Course at Gleneagles.  Vladis Thora Jonsdottir, Birgir Hafthorsson, Olafia Kristinsdottir and Axel Boasson were the gold medallists, a shot ahead of the Great Britain 3 quartet of Meghan MacLaren, Liam Johnston, Michele Thomson and Connor Syme.  The men’s gold was won by Pedro Oriol and Scott Fernandez of Spain and the women’s by Sweden’s Linda Wessberg and Cajsa Persson.

I watched a little bit of the Gleneagles golf, behind the BBC’s red button, because the main channels were devoted to the athletics, swimming, diving, cycling, all of which featured world-class performers.  Golf’s main men and women were mostly elsewhere but I didn’t see too much of the USPGA either because we couldn’t get it on big telly. (I believe even those who are good with cables, streaming and the like also had difficulties.)

On the wild west coast of Ireland, at Ballybunion, Scotland won the women’s home internationals – I remember them looking good, if a little inexperienced, at Little Aston last year when Ireland won – and England won the girls’ internationals.  Further east, at Whittington Heath GC and probably a tad lower down the golfing scale, the mixed open was won by Darren Hall and Helena Rean, who is such an Aston Villa fanatic that she has it written into her contract that football takes precedence over EVERYTHING.  To look at her, she looks quite sane and sensible….. Not that I’m upset that my partner and I were pipped by a point……

I don’t know if Renee Powell and Katharine Whitehorn, two formidable women from different spheres, have met yet but they’re about to be immortalised at the home of golf by the University of St Andrews, founded in 1413, which is giving them a hall of residence each.  Renee Powell Hall, 205 rooms and Whitehorn Hall, 184 rooms, are due to open in October.  Powell was given an honorary degree by the university in 2008 and in 2015 she became one of the first female members of the R&A.  She was the second African American to play on the LPGA tour and is now a renowned teacher, specialising not just in golf but in life.

Whitehorn, a CBE and giant of journalism, is a graduate of Newnham College, Cambridge and was elected (by the students) rector of the University of St Andrews in 1982, the first woman to hold the post.  I nearly spoke to her once  when I spotted her at a Women In Journalism get-together but my courage (always in short supply) failed me.  After all, would she really want some gibbering eejit stuttering, “You’re Katharine Whitehorn.  I think you’re wonderful, an inspiration.  And Cooking In A Bedsit helped me through uni.”  No wonder I bottled it.

But Cooking In A Bedsit, a small, battered, bespattered paperback that has departed this world (or at least my copy has), was a lifesaver, wherever it may rank in the great woman’s oeuvre.

Finally, I couldn’t resist using this photo for its sheer, unadulterated joy.  The golf at the European Championships may have been a bit low key for most of us but it really mattered to those taking part.  And that’s what counts.

 

It was a blustery, breezy day on a fast, hard-running golf course yesterday and my partners and I handled the conditions better than anyone else, to win the captains’ charity am/am by a single point.  So, well done to everyone who played, particularly for raising a couple of thousand pounds and more for Alzheimers, which is this year’s charity and coping manfully – and womanfully – with the conditions.

Admittedly, Whittington Heath is not Shinnecock Hills but it is probably more like this week’s US Open venue than most of the courses the pros play in their day to day life on tour.  It makes you think; it makes you have to trust your judgement, not just the yardage chart;  it makes you assess the camber, the roll, the breeze; and it often makes you hit shots you don’t really want to hit; it makes you mad because not every bounce will go your way; and sometimes it’ll seem positively unfair.  In short, it’s proper golf, golf at its most sporty, its most testing, its most irritating and if you get it right, its most exhilarating.

I’m not quite sure how I ended up in such exalted company but playing my sixth round in seven days (it was choir on Wednesday) I was easily the least inspired member of the four ball and just watched in awe, mixed with gratitude, as my partners produced the fireworks.  Jill Harris, playing off 21, represented England at table tennis in the Commonwealth Games and is starting to get to grips with golf.  She had two gross birdies and got on the card (two scores from the four to count) an impressive 13 times.  Team captain Susan Sims, a Scot with John Daly’s grip it and rip it mentality, hit some astounding shots and Sue Gartland, working her way back diligently from injury, is starting to look dangerous again as she adjusts to her new physical limitations (bit like Tiger, though think Sue’s putting is better at the moment).

We were, I admit, extra chuffed to win because we were the only all female team and, not having been able to go on any of the suffragette marches on Sunday – playing a match at Hinckley – I felt we were at least flying the flag!  Bit pathetic I know but every little helps.

We lost at Hinckley – good luck to them in the next round of the Taskers – but I’ve never arrived at a golf club in such enjoyable style.  The mini, even one of those modern super-sized mega minis, couldn’t cope with three of us plus golf clubs and trolleys, so the camper van it was.  Marvellous.  Might make a habit of it, it’s such a sedate way to travel – and you can see over most walls and hedges.  Thanks to Chris for doing the driving.

Although we lost, 4-3, we weren’t disgraced and it was disappointing to get home to discover that the GB&I Curtis Cup team was going down the tubes with barely a whimper.  The visitors lost all eight singles on the last day, so congrats to the USA on their victory and back to the drawing board (and the practice ground and the putting green) for the Brits and Irish in preparation for the next match, at Conwy in north Wales, in 2020.

Many moons ago now, at Prairie Dunes of blessed memory (give me half a chance and I’ll regale you yet again with the details of that glorious moment in Curtis Cup history), Trish Johnson was a fresh-faced amateur, sweeping all before her as she won four points out of four.  An invincible.  Thirty-two years later, she’s still competing and winning, this time on the Legends Tour, in the grandly named Suquamish Clearwater Legends Cup presented by Boeing at White Horse Golf Club in Kingston, Washington.  She won by five strokes from Lisa Grimes of Arizona, with Michelle McGann, the Floridian who was known for her hats, third, two shots further back.

Reluctantly – I like to keep you guessing – I’d better explain the wee picture of a green-painted building at the top of this post.  It’s there to remind me that I’m about to start so I’d better keep going.  Heaven help me, I’ve joined a gym!  I blame Sharon, my next-door neighbour, who was extolling the virtues of this place called Gymophobics and how it had helped her tone up and lose inches (in all the right places) in no time at all.  Feeling old and flabby despite, or perhaps because of, all the golf, I called in and with a huge amount of trepidation signed up.  My initial assessment is this afternoon and I’m not looking forward to the tale of the tape or the weigh-in.  I may or may not keep you posted…

Finally, here’s a photo of my favourite sign of the week, en route to the 1st tee at Hinckley.