Ok, so here we go – my own personal rant and rail against some of the people who play this sport that I love and which has given me a great life.  This has been a slow burn of a rant encompassing decades of staying mum, saying nowt and not wishing to upset anyone.  No longer!  Put it down to the soaring summer temperatures if you like, but really it’s more to do with the fact that I cannot believe the amount of time wasted and number of people upset by the ludicrous dress rules that litter the golf clubs around the country.

Why must golf be the preserve of those with a certain kind of wardrobe?

Let me point out that we do actually live in the 21st century so let’s scotch the “upholding tradition” nonsense.  If we were, indeed, “upholding tradition” the women would be playing in long skirts and blouses with leg ‘o mutton sleeves and the men in plus fours and jackets.  Sports clothing is much more technical nowadays, with a closer fit for freedom of movement and comfort.  It is designed with you playing your sport in mind.  But wait, is golf a sport?  No, it can’t be – numerous clubs don’t allow you to wear trainers in the clubhouse.  Hmm, tricky that, because if you go to America, you’ll see nothing but trainers worn in the golf clubs.

Right, let’s deal with the other patronising argument of those who are the authors of these ridiculous dress rules – the “we-must-keep-up-standards” brigade.  Piffle!  I am waiting for someone to tell me what wonderful qualities a collar on your shirt imbues you with – and what on earth does a tee shirt do that turns you into a poor excuse of a human being, an undesirable, no less?  The ONLY standards that the game must strive to hold on to are those of behaviour and is it too much to ask that we all try to be nice to each other?  I have witnessed appalling behaviour on the course from those who would be deemed to be properly dressed – some standards they uphold!

Any time you start listing articles of clothing and itemising acceptable and unacceptable garments you are gunning for trouble.  Just what is the obsession with forcing conformity on us all and just what are these custodians of our wardrobes afraid of?  You know, not many folk look in the mirror in the morning and think, “Right, it’s the monthly medal today.  How can I make the very worst of myself?”

And do not get me started on socks!  What length?  What colour?  Men can’t wear sports socks (footsies) with shorts?  Oh dear, oh dear!

I am not going to name names or clubs (unless you really want me to) but here is a selection of what I have come across as I criss cross the country:

•  One club had THREE committee meetings to decide if one of their women members could wear coloured socks as opposed to the recommended white.
• One of my pupils came to me for a lesson in a round-necked cashmere jumper – very classy.  She said she’d have to return home to change before going to her golf club.  No collar, you see.  I thought it interesting she thought it was good enough to come to me for a lesson in!  I was teasing her, of course, but she went home and changed.
• Some young (good) golfers were working on their putting on the practice green.  The older members on the terrace decided they’d need a “quiet word” with one lad who was wearing a tee shirt.  Said young lad could beat any of them – politely and courteously – with one hand behind his back.

Footwear, sockwear, length of shorts, type of trousers, shirts inside or out, collar or no, hatwear – we are bedecked with rules, rules, rules.  All for a sport that is supposed to fill our leisure time with fun and friendships.  At its best this is controlling, at its worst it’s not far short of bullying.  And what is the point of it all?  Take a look around the world – we have far bigger problems than if someone wears flip-flops into the clubhouse – and do you know how expensive some flip-flops are?  And golf certainly has eminently more pressing concerns.

As it stands, the very best women players in the world wouldn’t get across the thresholds of most clubs in the UK.  That can’t be right.

But, in case you think I’m just having a tilt at the home clubs, I ‘m posting a picture of my good friend Karen Stupples’ 9-year old son, Logan.  Karen, as you will recall, won the Women’s British Open in 2004 and is now a commentator with The Golf Channel and based in the States.  This is what Logan was wearing when denied access to a public golf facility near their home.

Some eejit of a jobsworth presumably saw only a tee shirt without a collar.  I see a well-turned out lad with a lovely golf swing in a shirt that’s a striking shade of blue.  I see a young lad who should be welcomed into our sport.

What do you see?

Ok, I admit it: I HATE dress codes. That’s not to say that I, a natural scruff who has learned to scrub up well enough if the occasion demands, disapprove of all dress codes but when it comes to golf and dress codes, my blood starts to boil. I love this game but sometimes the people who play it do it – and themselves – no favours.

The last time my club revised the “dress standards” I was on the sub-committee but my influence was minimal after I suggested that we abolish the dress code for a year and wait for the sky to fall in….No one else was willing to take the risk, preferring instead to devote a large chunk (that nearly came out as junk!) of their time to devising an up-to-date list (denim allowed but no stonewashed or torn jeans, no matter how expensive the label or how stylish the wearer) that is long, comprehensive and, frankly, smacks of control-freakery.

Does this collar pass the test?

And this?

It’s probably preferable that most of us wear clothes on the course but, honestly, what is it with all this micro-managing?  This obsession with the minutiae of socks (length, colour), collars (more or less the sine qua non if you wish to play golf at most clubs), flip-flops (not plastic or rubber, so vegans beware), shorts (tailored, not baggy, sports or beach).  All men must wear their shirts tucked in – a hard ask for a lot of them, especially in the heatwave conditions the other week – and of course the shirts must have sleeves.  Women are permitted to wear shirts outside their waistband only if said shirt was designed to be worn in that manner and we are allowed to go sleeveless, even if our upper arms have given up the unequal struggle against gravity.

One must, I suppose, be grateful for small mercies.

Clubhouse friendly footwear?  Who decides?

Like Maureen, who gets even hotter under the (apparently obligatory) collar on this subject than I do, I think that the only thing that really matters is that people behave civilly on the golf course and in the clubhouse.  And that has very little to do with what someone is wearing or how many tattoos they have.  I’d replace the pompous, long-winded dress code notices with large-print notices quoting the etiquette section from the Rules of Golf.  Adhere to those, repair pitch marks, rake the bunkers – and leave the rakes somewhere sensible, NOT plonk in front of the bunkers whatever you do –  and show a bit more courtesy to your fellow golfers instead of wasting your time finding fault with the attire of others.  Celebrate diversity in golf instead of insisting on your own version of uniformity.  Park your preconceptions and prepare to be pleasantly surprised.

Ok for Ascot but the golf club??

When I was ladies’ captain (they were desperate), I toyed with the idea of having a “bring your goth grandchild to golf day” but we couldn’t round up enough goths to make a go of it.  I’m sorry about that.  And I’m sorry I couldn’t invite the two lads who played behind Dai and me in Tahiti.  Dai was in his shorts (tailored), long socks (admittedly sensible, for the protection of pale calves) and collared shirt (don’t believe he owned a tee shirt).  Behind us were two good-looking lads giving this game of golf a go, hitting the ball miles, not necessarily in the right direction.  They were wearing singlets, shorts (beach variety) and flip-flops and they looked more at home than we did.

Dai and some of his mates were once thrown off the course at Boldmere (a Birmingham muni) because one of them was wearing wellies – it was very wet – and the pro objected to this desecration of his sacred turf.  Actually, what he really objected to was the racket they made on the 1st tee when the wellie wearer, later our man in Venezuela (or somewhere South American) but no golfer, took his opening swipe and the ball, following a hitherto unknown golfing trajectory, ended up in one of his wellies.  Collapse – and ultimate dismissal – of all parties.

I have friends – including at least one late-to-golf brother-in-law – who couldn’t disagree with me more on this subject – and will no doubt be appalled that the speaker of the House of Commons has just said that it’s no longer essential for MPs to wear ties (women of the House rejoice).  A sign of standards slipping (order, order) or just a recognition of changing times?

There’s nothing welcoming or encouraging about the Talibanesque “no this, no that, no the other” approach of the typical golf dress code and who’s the real loser if a family coming home from a day out – or the supermarket – keeps on driving past the golf club because they’re wearing jeans, trainers and tee shirts?

Dan dares for charity.  Still time to add to the Acorns fund at justgiving.

Last Saturday, I sat on an uncomfortable chair in an undistinguished meeting room in St Andrews and realised, with a happy sigh, that I could retire.  Now, I can hear those of you who know me well – and a husband from beyond the grave – falling over each other to get in first with the obvious question:  “Retire from what?”

Bridget Jackson, an (hon) member of the R&A (at last!)

Being opinionated?  Loving golf?  Asking questions?  Writing?  Learning?  Put like that, I hope I won’t retire until I stop breathing, or become so demented there’s no hope of recovery.  In the meantime, I say yes to almost every invitation, play as much golf as I possibly can, usually with friends and always with congenial people and enjoy producing this blog with Maureen.  Somebody asked me if it had become a chore and I said, “No,” without hesitation.  Blimey!

But it’s true, the blog is still fun for us and, it seems, for our friends who read it.  They’re not all golfers but most of them are, hooked, devoted to a game that non-golfers can’t fathom.  The trick is how to widen the appeal, though you wouldn’t be asking that question if you’d ever played the Himalayas, the (ladies’) putting green at St Andrews, plonk in the middle of the Home of Golf and packed out on a Bank Holiday weekend.

The ladies have been putting since 1867.

Grandchild with grandparent; wife with husband; non-golfer with golfer (and the n-g winning); every age, stage, gender, nationality – all striving, contorting, snorting, laughing and having a ball.  I’d never played it before and my three friends and I couldn’t have had more fun.

We played with a member so it only cost us a quid each (£3 for those without a member) and because the holes change on a regular basis, she had no advantage over the rest of us.

My partner, the member, in a bit of bother. (We lost the hole.)

If you discover golf at the Himalayas, you’ll understand its essence:  the fact that it’s for everybody and is, at base, fun.  Fun with a bit of a masochistic streak at times but fun nonetheless.

The Himalayas is a course well named. Nothing flat about it.

Of course golf is big business these days, an industry no less and it’s desperate to keep up with tennis, rugby, whatever, in the popularity stakes, trying to hoover up the crumbs from the soccer table.  Football has become the King Kong of sport, a rampaging monster with no sense of restraint or social responsibility – though its basic simplicity and universal appeal is undeniable – and it dominates the airwaves and the papers.  It doesn’t need to re-invent itself – yet – but others feel the need to be more imaginative.  Cricket has come up with Twenty20, now European professional golf is trying GolfSixes, briefly six-hole matches between teams of two.  It’s not on terrestrial television, however, which automatically limits its reach and potential appeal.

There was quite a lot about the format in The Guardian on Thursday, a rare non-major outing for Ewan Murray, who would count as the paper’s accomplished golf correspondent if the paper went in for such things these days.  In truth, golf is no longer on The Guardian’s sporting radar, consigned to fighting with every other sport known to man (and sometimes woman) for the few paragraphs not devoted to the Great God Soccer.  Bitter?  Moi?  Still, what does it matter?  Those of us who love a proper page to read instead of a screen are dying out and giving up.  Have you seen a printed blog yet?

I digress, as usual.  In truth, I’m not quite sure what I was at last week, apart from a very congenial gathering of people, mostly women, who care about golf.  I think it was called a forum, a replacement, sort of, for the LGU AGM, which no longer exists because the LGU has now, sensibly, merged with the R&A.  There is, slightly confusingly, a new president of the LGU, with Gillian Kirkwood taking over from Diane Bailey but confusing or not, it can only be encouraging that one dedicated, competent, passionate woman is being replaced by another.

Martin Slumbers, right, with, from left to right, Diane Bailey, Gillian Kirkwood and Lewine Mair. (Let’s hope the future is brighter than the picture!)

Also, Martin Slumbers, the R&A’s chief executive, among other roles, a self-confessed corporate and commercial animal, who said he’d found the merger negotiations some of the most challenging he’d engaged in, did anything but put his audience to sleep.  He was calm, measured, thoughtful and compelling and I believed him when he talked about his – and the R&A’s  – passion and commitment to the game and the desire to develop it for everyone, women, men, boys and girls.

Mmm.  On reflection, that means none of us can retire until we’re pushing up the divots.

Play away please.

Crank up the slo-mo, root out the magnifying glass or the Hubble telescope, whatever it takes to examine in forensic detail a player’s every move.  It’s Masters week, the greens will be terrifying, the nerves will be jangling, the hands shaking, the brains scrambled, the cameras trained and armchair vigilantes will be sitting with fingers poised ready to call out the unwary.

Last Sunday there was the now seemingly obligatory major championship rules rumpus courtesy of a sharp-eyed viewer and Lexi Thompson was penalised four shots for replacing her ball in the wrong spot on the green.  “Is this a joke?” she said to the unfortunate rules officials who delivered the news as she was leaving the 12th green in the last round.

Thompson, who’d been leading, regrouped and birdied the 72nd hole to force a play-off with So Yeon Ryu but lost at the first extra hole.

Lexi, a class act, trying to hold it together

Many, protracted, replays showed that the day before, at the 17th hole of the 3rd round, Thompson had indeed failed to replace her ball on the exact same spot from which she’d lifted it (unnecessarily, it seemed to some of us, in the pernickety way that professionals have).  It was not, it seemed to me, an error visible to the naked eye and the ball did not seem to be any nearer the hole, merely a minuscule fraction off kilter.  (The marker could not be seen at all when it was placed close under the ball but when the ball was replaced a bit of the marker could be seen.)

It was two strokes for failing to replace the ball on the right spot and two more strokes for signing for a wrong score – in times past, that would have been disqualification.

I’ve never been a fan of trial by viewer and am usually screaming at the telly, in suitably unladylike terms, “Why did you take the call; tell them to get lost.”  However, once officials are alerted to a possible breach, they have to take action.  (See under Referee on page 42 of the current Rules of Golf.)

Dustin Justin falling foul at the US Open (he still wins)

Still, in this digital age, when the scrutiny is relentless and high definition, the degree of precision required to be 100 per cent perfect (that’s probably tautology) may be beyond a mere human.  And this retrospective element to the punishment does nobody any favours.  The powers that be have to come up with a solution that eliminates the possibility of the last few holes of a tournament or championship being thrown into disarray and disrupted artificially.  Surely, once the card has been signed, the round done and dusted, that should be it?……

Anna Nordqvist falling foul at the US Women’s Open.  No title but wins universal respect.

Professional golfers, playing on courses more manicured than top fashion models, like to think that they can reduce the game to a measured, ultra-meticulous exercise, with nothing left to chance – but they can’t.  It’s an outdoor game, often played in wind and rain, over a cross-country course dotted with hazards and you have to learn to accept the bad bounces as well as the good.  And, because, even in this age of satellites and CCTV, it’s impossible to police every inch, every millimetre, players are expected to do the right thing.

Marking the ball correctly on the green is a serious and important business – not least because of the opportunity it gives the unscrupulous or the desperate to cheat and gain an inch or two.  It pays to give the process due care and attention but the main point, surely, is to ensure that you’re not creeping closer to the hole?  What Lexi Thompson did did not, in my book, constitute a breach of the rules.  And it certainly wasn’t cheating, which is a very different matter.

A variety of markers: tee, marker, coin. Marks out of 10?

In his book ‘Golf from the Inside’, Mike Clayton, the Australian professional, golf course architect and writer who is always worth listening to, addresses the subject:  “The game has always had a few who never could quite understand the intricacies of marking the ball on the green.  It is a relatively simple process to put a coin directly behind the ball, but some nonetheless struggle…..The problem is that it is almost impossible to prove even if you are sure the guy is cheating……

“The best method of handling the situation I have heard of was in a match between a Sydney amateur, Rory Slade, and another player whose name I forget……Let’s call him X.

“X had a reputation as a fudger on the greens, but Rory was ready for him and determined not to be upset by anything X was doing on the greens.  Sure enough, the ball started going down a few inches in front of the coin.  It happened way more than once, but Rory was killing the guy so he wasn’t too bothered.  At the 14th, he had a 6-footer to win the match 5 and 4.

“He simply picked the putt up and went to shake hands with X.

“‘What do you think you are doing?’

“”Well,’ Rory said, ‘I figured all those inches you have stolen so far probably add up to about 6 feet.  I thought I would take all of mine in one lot.’

“X shook hands without another word of protest.”

Aussie rules OK.

Research, research, research.