It’s been a funny old week.  It didn’t get off to the best start when my better half went out for his regular cycle ride with some of the neighbours.  All went well until they arrived back into our road and he signalled he was turning right down our driveway.  As he was making the turn he heard a car engine revving and managed to swerve to the left just as a car overtook him and with a glancing blow knocked him off his bike into the road.  The driver did stop and tried to defend herself saying he was calling her on.  Hmm, last time I looked at the highway code a right arm held straight out indicated a right turn but apparently not to her.  Happily, there wasn’t much damage done – apart from a badly sprained thumb – because of the riding armour he wears to protect his hips and elbows, all casualties of previous accidents.  Note to self, maybe it’s time I redoubled my efforts to get him to fall in love with golf, an infinitely safer pastime.

As we once again ease into a time of increasing restrictions most of my pals in Wales and Ireland find themselves unable to go to the golf course.  It’s at moments like these that I really appreciate all that golf offers us on a plate each time we go out on the course.  Leave aside the never-ending challenge of improving your ball-striking, your strategy and your scoring, the fresh air and exercise golf provides, normally in the company of good friends, and the mental health benefits that it bestows make it the sport that keeps on giving.

If you can’t get to the course for a few weeks, why not make a bit of a plan to keep those golfing muscles awake and active?  Now, I don’t expect you to embark on a regime a la Rory or Bryson and bust a gut to increase the speed of your swing so you are unrecognisable when you emerge back on to the links, but how about a plan to reinforce good habits and feels that can be taken to the course when golf resumes?  Try the following with a 7-iron:-

1  Five swings with your feet together.  Keep your balance at the end.

2  Five swings, normal stance.  Pause at the top, count to 3 and then swing to a full follow through.

3  Five swings, normal stance.  No pause at the top but hold your finish for a count of 3.

Repeat this sequence with a different club.  These little drills will help you stay centred in the swing (exercise 1) and find good balance (exercises 2 and 3).  You can only deliver the power of which you are capable from a point of balance, so working on this is beneficial to your game.  If you really want to test yourself try a swing with your eyes closed and see if you can remain stable.

Meanwhile, as ever, there are other golf-related matters to keep us interested and energised, most of them with an eye to future events.  We are now only three and a bit weeks away from the Masters where Tiger will be defending.  The usual questions will abound – can he win his 16th major?  (No, not in my opinion, although Augusta is by far his best opportunity for another victory of any sort.)  Can Rory win and, at the sixth time of asking, complete the Grand Slam?  (Of course he can win, but WILL he?  Not this time, I suspect but I’m optimistic about next April.)  What on earth will Bryson look like and play like after this last month of more bulking up and adding speed to his swing?  And will we recognise Augusta dressed in autumn colours?

Back in April the Masters was to be the first of four sorties of mine to the States this year, none of which, of course, have actually taken place.  Patricia and I have planned that she will come over to me so we can plonk ourselves down together in front of the box with a decent bottle of red and watch the action unfold in our own little support bubble.  We enjoy watching the golf together – we know (still) a great many of the players, nearly all the broadcasters and media and the machinations of how Masters tournaments are run.  One advantage to not being on site and working there is that it’s extraordinarily liberating to be able to use normal golf terms.  We can refer to the rough, not the first cut, talk about the pin positions and not the hole locations and bemoan the fact that this year there are no galleries as opposed to patrons.  I’m interested to hear if they change the suspected mechanised tweeting-bird soundtrack to an autumn version.  I’m sure they will, nothing is ever overlooked.

So as the clocks change and winter draws on do your best to keep something golf-related in your life on a daily basis.  Reading always has the power to provide a bit of escapism from the dreary endless news that abounds everywhere, so consider also seeking out some of the great golfing biographies that will help while away a wet winter day.  You won’t regret it.

 

 

 

I had a text from a friend yesterday, suggesting a subject for today’s blog, a very, very, very (ad infinitum) contentious subject:  the dreaded, ever-divisive dress code.  Not being in one of my argumentative, disputatious moods (a bit odd that, for an Irish person, or, at least, this particular Irish person), I’m not going to bite.

Suffice it to say that I cheered when I saw Tyrrell Hatton wearing his hoodie at Wentworth.  Yes, a HOODIE.  Shock horror, hooray, hooray.  When David Cameron (remember him?  I’m pretty sure it was him) suggested we hug hoodie-wearing teens instead of vilifying them, I put a hoodie on my wish list – a cashmere hoodie, admittedly but a hoodie nonetheless.  In fact, it went on the list immediately after whatever shopping centre it was said it was going to ban them.

There’s a Guardian article from the time – July 2006 – that said:  “In a ground-breaking speech calling for more ‘love’ to be shown to adolescents, the Tory leader will attack bans on hooded tops – a symbol of urban menace to many adults – that were imposed by a shopping centre last year, arguing that shrouding their faces is a response to children’s own fear of crime against them, not a crime in itself…..”

Hatton helped demonstrate that far from being an urban menace the hoodie is now a fairway fashion item.  In the way of fashion items, it’s not entirely practical because, let’s face it, who’s going to be hitting a shot with the hood up?  And with the hood down you have to make sure it keeps out of the way of the swing and is not going to knock you about the face.  The key is that he was wearing it at all, showing what?  That golf’s now the epitome of urban cool?  That Adidas had a bit of extra material to make use of?  Who knows?  But thanks Tyrrell and many congrats on winning the BMW PGA Championship at Wentworth and moving into the top ten in the world rankings.

My golf’s not quite in the same league and if I’d been wearing a hoodie the other day, I’d have pulled the hood over my eyes because I had a fit of the unmentionables (Arthur Ranks for older readers or real cinema buffs) at a crucial time; going from two up with four to play to two down at the end……Great…..The smile as I left the 18th green was of the rictus variety…..

Maureen’s advice included a mat (I have no grass because what’s the point when you have an entire park, well maintained by a lovely, friendly team who are as good for your well-being as the grounds they look after, 50-odd yards max from your front door?), a kitchen sponge and an airflow ball.  She described how to set things up and added the magic words:  “Don’t think of anything too technical…”. As if.  I won’t go into any more detail in case she wants to use it as a proper tip at a later date and I can’t report on its efficacy until I’ve been and gone and got the equipment….Wilkco here I come.

There was a poignant moment at Wentworth last week when Andy McFee and John Paramor said goodbye to the European Tour and left their replacements as rules officials shaking in their shoes….Decades of experience are hard earned and they were two of the best in the world; the hole will be filled (and it’s a very big hole) but it’ll take time.

They both reminisced a bit and were very nice about the AGW (who were presenting them with a memento) and Paramor recalled a rather chastening, slightly terrifying moment from his early days as a tournament director.  It was at the Belfry, the week before the Open Championship, the weather was piggy, with rain delays galore, electrics that didn’t work, all in all a lot of a nightmare for anyone, let alone a relative rookie.  Decisions had to be made on the hoof and John told a load of marquee players, including former Open champions, all of them playing poorly and well off the pace, that they could go home – or wherever.

“I’d let them go without any nod to anybody,” he recalled and it didn’t go down well with the people who had features and (endless) Open previews to do….including my late husband, who’d have been working for the Birmingham Post at the time and was not a man known for his que sera sera equilibrium…..

”I was taken into a room with Dai and some of his senior colleagues,”  JP said, the memory still vivid, “and told in no uncertain terms that I was a ‘complete bloody idiot.  What you need to do is you need to talk to us and we will tell you what you should be doing……And you need to be honest with us…’  Thank you Dai, wherever you are….for that bit of advice.”

I’ll raise a glass of red to that!

It’s just been announced that the 2023 Solheim Cup (remember that, with luck, the 2021 version will go ahead at Inverness in Toledo, Ohio, next September) will be held in Spain for the first time, at Finca Cortesin in Andalucia.  If it’s a fraction as exciting as the Ryder Cup at Valderrama in 1997, the wine drinkers among us will need plentiful supplies of Rioja to calm our nerves….The more healthy are welcome to stick to their green tee, sorry, tea…..

The featured pic (at the top of the piece) probably needs explaining…..it’s there because it always makes me laugh, especially in these chaotic times but also because now, sadly, my favourite mug is defunct.  It cracked yesterday and I include it as a tribute to an old friend…..Sorry Mo.

Last Sunday came very close to being one of my all-time most enjoyable sporting days, in fact, it was so close as to make no matter.  Nothing to do with my own prowess, of course, though I did go to tai chi in the morning and joined Esther “8 Steps to a Painfree Back” Gokhale (pronounced Go-clay) for her 1-2-3 Move session in the early evening (0945 Pacific time, 1745 for me, perfect).  I’m one of Esther’s fans and am just sorry that more people, especially golfers, who are prone to backs, don’t know about her.  They’re missing a trick.  You can find out more about her at gokhalemethod.com.

To stop digressing, my beloved (sometimes) Totspurs won 6-1 at Old Trafford (empty, admittedly) after conceding a penalty in the first minute and were so all over United (down to ten men early on, with our man Lamela lucky not to be sent off too) that I spent most of the second half laughing in disbelief.  My Man Utd-supporting bro-in-law was lucky enough to miss most of the debacle because his sister and her husband called in at just the right time.

Then it was time for another unbelievable scoreline:  Aston Villa 7  Liverpool (champions-by-miles last season) 2….Not a misprint, not the wrong way round, just another of those football-bloody-hell moments.  So I had one happy bro-in-law, the Villa supporter, who couldn’t help WhatsApping me:  “Had to get one more than Spurs.”  Not mentioning that we were away, of course.  Though being away without thousands of the opposition’s fans baying for your blood must be quite pleasant….unless you’re Liverpool at Villa Park.  What a gloriously daft day.  Nothing like sport for bringing you down to earth with a crash.

On the golf front, Mel Reid and Sergio Garcia, two of the blog’s favourites (though Sergio’s sulks do him no favours), won in America and the only blot was that Robert Rock, a lad (well, man) local to us at Whittington Heath, didn’t win the Aberdeen Standard Investments Scottish Open, a lucrative Rolex Series event, at the Renaissance Club near North Berwick.  Then I discovered that Aaron Rai, who beat Tommy Fleetwood at the first extra hole, was from Wolverhampton, so we can claim him too.  That’s Aaron in the wee pic at the top of this piece, thanks to Getty Images and how can you not feel happy for a young man who’s just had the biggest win of his career?

On Sunday, however, I was cheering for Rob Rock and he came to the last needing a birdie to win.  He was short of the green with his second shot and after a bit of faffing about and a free drop from something, he hit his pitch beyond the hole and just missed his par putt, to finish third, one shot behind Rai and Fleetwood.  On the telly, Radar Riley was astounded that Rock hadn’t used his putter but it transpired that he’d been going for the outright win and had been determined to play aggressively not defensively, trying to hole his pitch.  Perhaps it wasn’t the percentage shot but you’ve got to admire his chutzpah.

Rock, a real student of the game, is already a highly respected coach and the fact that he can still play a bit won’t do his teaching cred any harm at all.  In the first round of the BMW PGA Championship at Wentworth yesterday he had a more than respectable 69, three under par, so he’s still playing well, presumably content with his decision to go for it on Sunday.  Richard Boxall, one of Sky’s commentators, remarked that Rock, who last won in Dubai in 2012, had cost himself a lot of money – Rai won nearly 975,000 Euro, Fleetwood won 630,000-odd and Rock a measly (!) 361,083.74 – and was then chided for always thinking about the dosh.

Boxall is not easily cowed, however and had a classic retort:  “Money isn’t everything,” he said, “but it’s right up there with oxygen.”  Brilliant.  It made me laugh anyway.  Thanks Richard.

It was lovely to potter about and watch some of the world’s best players tackling Wentworth, so familiar from many years of tramping its fairways but you can have my share of the West Course, the brutal Burma Road, much changed over the years and getting ever longer (why, oh why won’t they rein in the ball…?).  I’d just jotted down that the East is my favourite of Wentworth’s courses, human-sized and eminently playable for us normal mortals, not a slog but a delight, a joy to play, with some lovely holes, essentially much as the great (not an exaggeration in this case) Harry Colt designed them; then I scrolled through my emails and found that Alistair Tait was of the same mind.  Have a look at alistairtaitgolf.com – he writes every day and is always worth reading.

This week the world’s best women are at Aronimink Golf Club, a classic course near Philadelphia in Pennsylvania, playing in the KPMG Women’s PGA Championship, one of their majors.  In an article entitled “The Sink at the Mink”, Andy Johnson said it was “like building    a course in a bathroom sink”.  Apparently, the course is in a bit of a bowl, with some holes going up, some going down, some going across and some at the top, on the flat.  It’s a real test and Donald Ross, who designed it, in 1928, was suitably impressed when he went back 20 years later:  “I intended to make this course my masterpiece,” he said, “but not until today did I realise I built better than I knew.”

High praise from a man who had Pinehurst No 2, Seminole and Oakland Hills to his name.

Finally, birthday greetings to the incomparable Annika Sorenstam who is 50 today.  Seems like only yesterday that a shy, fresh-faced young Swedish rookie pitched up at the Ford Classic at Woburn with her dad Tom on the bag and nearly won.  What a career it turned out to be, what a journey.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s pouring outside at the moment. The real proverbial cats and dogs stuff that means it’s perfect blogging weather.  Nothing else to do really but get stuck in, so why do I feel a bit like the weather?

It’s three days since I watched Bison – sorry, Bryson DeChambeau win the US Open at Winged Foot.  Now, as you know, I absolutely love the majors but this one left me feeling a little depressed and anxious.  Don’t get me wrong, there is much to admire about Bryson but in golfing terms I find I don’t feel energised about the game’s future or the path we seem to be inexorably following.

Over the last six decades there have been two dominant players in the men’s game – Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods.  Jack arrived on the scene, winning his first major in 1962 and as my late brother-in-law, Dai Davies of The Guardian, wrote, “Jack hit the ball so hard he looked as if he might burst.”  This was golf as we had never seen it before and all kids watching aspired to be Jack.  I’m sure Tiger Woods was not the only youngster who had Jack’s record on his bedroom wall and went to sleep each night dreaming of winning as many majors as his idol.

And then came April 1997 and the Masters.  I was there, courtesy of tickets from Patricia and Dai, and set out to walk the first round with the phenom (horrible word) that was Tiger Woods.  He was all over the place on that front nine, going out in 40 and I thought to myself, “Just what is all the fuss about?”  I sloped off to enjoy a mint julep and watch some of the European contingent.  And, yep, Tiger blitzed the back nine, came in in 30 and was never seen again by the rest of the field.  He won his first major by 12 shots with a scoring record that stands to this day.

His game was impressive.  He had length, he could shape the ball both ways, he could vary his trajectory and his chipping and pitching skills, aided by a vivid imagination, were sublime.  His craft on the greens was equally impressive.  He had it all, so in retaliation “Tiger-proofing” of courses began, which principally meant adding length and, in most cases, narrowing the fairways in order to challenge accuracy.  And that has basically been the trend ever since.  Throw in growing the rough to cabbage-like proportions and you begin to get the picture as far as presentation of courses goes.

Is it REALLY a surprise then that this sort of examination should inexorably determine the path of development that players and, indeed, equipment should take?  Tiger (with apologies to Gary Player) forged the path of golfers training as athletes and these athletes over the past couple of decades have been able to work out how best to tackle the courses they now face on a weekly basis.  Aided by brilliant, cutting-edge research and development in the arena of clubs and balls the game has moved to a position where accuracy is no longer a valued currency.

Twelve months ago, with a committed, visionary team around him, Bryson DeChambeau decided on a strategy to a level never hitherto attempted by a professional golfer.  He decided to bulk up to massive proportions and concentrate on creating speed, speed, speed in his golf swing.  He trained to swing freely and full out every time, recognising through copious study of stats that accuracy was vastly over-rated compared to power.  What he has done is groundbreaking.  He’s trying to do something that hasn’t been done before.  He has already forged a path of having all his iron club shafts the same length and now he is training more like the long-driving champions while attempting to retain those fine motor skills needed around the greens.

As I said, there is much to admire about him, his work ethic, his single-mindedness, his commitment and the skills he has developed.  But is this what we want golf to be like in the future?  Frankly, the US Open was boring to watch.  Nothing but smash it off the tee as hard as you could and then smash it again from the rough somewhere up around the green complexes.  Granted Bryson’s putting and chipping were beautiful to set alongside his oh-so-impressive power but where were the demanding flighted long irons of Tiger’s day, the running shots, the high floaters, the left to righters, the right to lefters  and even, whisper it, the occasional 3-wood second at a par five?

There is an entire set of skills that is fast becoming obsolete and I think that’s what’s depressing me.  There are huge numbers of vastly intelligent administrators in our sport and I can’t believe it is beyond them to carve out the best path for golf.  Fear of possible legal proceedings from equipment companies is not a good enough excuse.  NO excuse is good enough.  Continue as we are and golf fans will continue to do what so many friends of mine did last Sunday – turn off their televisions and go and do something else.