Precisely two weeks ago Harvey, a category 4 hurricane and the most powerful storm to hit Texas since 1961, smashed into the lone star state bringing with it winds of up to 130 miles per hour.  Catastrophic damage and the ensuing widespread flooding has meant thousands of people have lost everything and are now homeless.  We’ve seen it all before, haven’t we?  And, if we’re lucky, we’ve only seen it via the medium of a screen, be it a TV, laptop, ipad or phone.  But, for me, this one is different.  Very different.

Let’s rewind to the end of 1976.  I was well into my second year at St Andrews University studying French and English.  Where else would an avid golfer choose to study, after all?  Life was good – I was playing on the university golf team, loving student life and pursuing my ambition of gaining a full International cap for Ireland.

One phone call was all it took to change everything.  That call was made by Pat Park and she was offering me and a Welsh pal, Lisa Isherwood, full golf scholarships to switch our studies from our respective unis (Lisa was at Lampeter) and head off to Lamar University in Beaumont in Texas.  Nowadays, golf scholarships to the States are common but back then only a few guys, namely Nick Faldo and Sandy Lyle, had tried it and returned home not finding it to their liking.  Pat was the first US college golf coach to recruit any females from the UK – and we were it!  She had already plundered the talent in Canada and was hoping for similar success in Britain.

Beaumont lies around 85 miles east of Houston and is not the prettiest place I’ve ever lived in, being a big petro-chemical industry town.  It was quite a shock for a green, naive 18-year old brought up on the north coast of Ireland and studying in Scotland who was used to seeing nothing but sea, sand and rolling golf courses.  There are times in your life, though, when an opportunity presents itself and sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and go for it.  I suffered six long months of excruciating homesickness – remember, no emails in those days, no skype, essentially no verbal or visual contact with your family.  We communicated by letter.  Receiving a phone call was a scary thing – it meant somebody had died.

It was the best thing I ever did.  I’ve been fortunate enough to have had some very influential mentors in my career and in my life and Pat Park was, and is, one of the finest.  A really good player in her own right, she was an excellent communicator and inspirational in all she did for the team at Lamar.  She steered us to consecutive National finals, the first in Hawaii, the second in Florida, unheard of for a uni like Lamar.  Our relationship has survived the thousands of miles that normally separate us and I’m proud to call her my friend.

My stint in Beaumont changed the course of my golfing life.  I returned to the UK and won a couple of British titles in a 14-month spell and achieved that longed-for Irish cap as well as British and Irish representation.  The pro ranks beckoned and were followed by over a decade of coaching International sides.  My time in Texas paved the way for me to make and enjoy a wonderful living from the game of golf.

After Harvey hit and I realised that Beaumont and surrounds were as badly affected as their better-known neighbour, Houston, I emailed Pat to see if she and her family were OK.  After a couple of anxious days I received this:-

“We are quite safe. We have had our fill of rain the last 5 days but nothing we couldn’t handle. Beaumont and Port Arthur, like Houston, are devastated.  PA got over 25 inches in one day, Beaumont almost 18. There was a time last night that it was raining 6.6 inches per hour in Port Arthur.  Simply astonishing.  Many, many residents have had to evacuate and will be spending time with friends and in shelters until they can get their homes cleaned up or rebuilt. We are probably talking about a few years to get things back to normal.”

I’ve had a look on the news footage at this area that I once knew so well.  The clean-up job will be massive – as will the bill.

Last week the LPGA Tour was playing in Portland, Oregon and former world No 1 Stacy Lewis announced she’d donate all of her winnings to the Harvey Relief Fund.  Stacy lives in The Woodlands, (one of the venues where we used to play college golf) in the northern suburbs of Houston.  It had been over three years since Stacy won a golf tournament, an intolerably long time for one of the world’s best.  In the interim she’s had a dozen runner-up spots but a final round of 69 saw her fend off her opposition.  Naturally delighted to win again, she described the relief effort as “more important than anything.  We’re going to be able to help (people) rebuild houses and get their homes back,” she said.  In her live winner’s interview she was informed that her sponsor KPMG were matching her donation of $195,000 dollars – and that’s when she became teary-eyed.

I’ve spent a lot of time being teary-eyed thinking of Texas this past couple of weeks.  The people are warm, down-to-earth and great to be around.  I know many, many PGA Tour pros make their homes in the Houston area and are helping with significant donations.  They’ll be needed – there’s a long, hard road ahead.

Go Stacy, Go Texas.

The Ladies’ European Tour is not currently in good health.  The 2017 schedule looks set to be completed with a mere 15 tournaments on the roster, not nearly enough to provide the members with enough playing opportunities from which to make a living, never mind elevate their game to greater heights.

Sadly, this is not a new scenario.  The pinnacle of the tour’s existence was arguably around 1987 when I remember we had 27 guaranteed tournaments and as players we could plan our schedules to suit ourselves – four weeks on and then a week off was a popular format.

However, by the early 1990s we were in trouble as a tour with purses stalling and tournaments being cancelled as an economic downturn hit us badly.  As players we were told we had to step up to the plate.  We had to work harder in pro-ams to ensure the enjoyment of our amateurs, some of whom were potential sponsors; we were told to dress more smartly; and quite bluntly told we had to improve the level of our golf.  Collectively we rolled up our sleeves and did all that was asked of us, understanding that the product had to be right for the opportunity of attracting bigger and better sponsors for tournaments.  And then, in 1992, against all the odds, we won the Solheim Cup.  Surely that would set us off on a long, elevated, upward curve?  Sadly not, and even more sadly, that pattern of building up, then losing tournaments, then exhorting the players to give more, more and more, all the while keeping the problems “in house”, seems to have continued to this day.  I experienced this first hand, both as a player and as a member of the Board for five years.

And here we are, some 25 years on, yet seemingly, no further on.  A few weeks ago the players were criticised when their frustrations bubbled over and the financial ill health of the Tour was openly talked about.  There have been so few tournaments this year there is no planning required nowadays – the players must play everything they can afford.  In the first six and a half months of this year there were ultimately only five tournaments on offer, but the funds needed to compete in all five were significant as the venues were scattered from Australia to China to Morocco to Spain to Thailand.  That is, quite frankly, not good enough.

So, now comes news that the men’s European Tour chief Keith Pelley and LPGA commissioner Mike Whan have jointly proffered a helping hand to the beleaguered LET.

No help should be spurned – but a note of caution here.  The Seniors Tour and the Challenge Tour come under the auspices of the men’s European Tour and are surely direct competitors with the LET for a share in a finite pool of sponsorship on offer.  And it certainly wouldn’t be ideal to become a satellite tour exclusively feeding the LPGA, would it?

It would be very naive to think that any offer of help is purely altruistic.  Suggestions have been made of much smaller fields in the schedule and those players playing for more money.  Not a bad idea, but is that not a short-term fix?  Let’s look 10, 20 years down the road.  We want full field events (144 players) and a schedule of 30 tournaments or so that means a player can make a living in Europe. To accomplish that we mustn’t create a future for only the top part of the pyramid.  The entire LET pyramid of players has the depth and talent to merit playing opportunities.  As many tournaments as you can muster are needed, even if it’s at lower prize funds.  Opportunities to tee it up are key for any player’s development.  As a good friend once pointed out to me – if you want to win the top medal in the Chelsea Flower Show, you plant thousands and thousands of seeds.  You don’t limit your chances of success by only working with a small number.

Twenty-five years ago we were at the forefront of women’s sports in the UK.  Now we get less exposure and interest  than women’s cricket, football, tennis, rugby, hockey and athletics – to name but a few.  These sports have been where we currently are.  Surely we can learn from them?  Often, someone somewhere has walked the walk before you.  Just read Judy Murray’s inspiring book, “Knowing The Score”.

And……..something else that makes my blood boil.  This talk of the LET players not being able to make the Solheim Cup a real match.  Yes, the European team will always be partly made up of purely LET-based players and yes, while the schedule is so paltry that is very difficult indeed for us, but the depth of talent in Europe is terrific.  Remember, until a fantastic day’s singles play from a pumped-up US team in 2015 the Europeans were on course for a third consecutive victory.  What short memories the critics have!

One thing we have lacked is a far-seeing, charismatic leader at the helm, someone with a long-term vision and understanding of the landscape of sport and business, who can look beyond establishing their own, limited personal fiefdom.  To attract the quality of individual required a top-rated salary needs to be on offer.  Perhaps this is where any concrete “help” should be directed – in finding and paying for this individual.  This is a tough, tough world but one thing I can guarantee this person – the product you will have to work with is fantastic.

Recently it hasn’t been too hard to find something to write about but I was struggling this week – until an envelope was extricated from the post box.  It was in with a couple of bank-related missives (credit card statements as it turned out) and it looked similarly official but had a proper, real stamp on it.  Mmmm.  It was addressed to me all right.  I have to try and remember to check before ripping stuff open because I still get post for a mystery woman who used to live here years ago, long before my time and the time of the people I bought the house from.

Anyway, I opened it dear reader – and found the bill for my golf club subs.  Ah.

It wasn’t exactly a shock – it’s that time of year – but I hadn’t read the details in the email that came in a few days ago, informing me that the subs had gone up (didn’t have the strength that day).  This time I took in the figures – and threw the tempting stuff about that big pro-am in Pinehurst into the recycling.

Dai, contrary as always but possibly right, as he was occasionally, thought that we – and golfers in general – paid too little for our membership, that it was remarkably good value.  And that was before retirement, in the days when we were working away so much that we were the perfect members:  we paid our subs on time, in full and hardly every cluttered up the course.  There was the occasional disruption, for instance when my partner and I (not Dai – we were not compatible in foursomes or greensomes, having completely different approaches to the game) were thrown out of one major competition, after winning our first match, because someone noticed that I had not put in three qualifying scores in the previous year.  Oops.  I felt sorry, not for us but for the poor souls we’d beaten.

In those days getting the three scores in was tricky beyond belief.  Tuesday was usually a travelling day and Sunday was a working day, so playing in comps was harder than you’d think.  How times have changed.  Flicking through the diary, I totted up more than 40 games at Whittington Heath so far this year.  Not excessive but at the new subscription rate that works out at just under £32 an outing – and there are still four months to go.  Play twice a week and you’re down to just over £12.  And that’s not counting playing in club matches – home and away – or trips to the club for draw nights, meetings, chit-chat and asking advice in the pro’s shop, playing a few holes on a lovely evening, coffee (or wine) and chat in the clubhouse and general putting-off-doing-the-blog visits.

I count that as outstanding value for money and you can’t put a price on the friendships made and the support from those friends over the years.  Bloody hell, it’s a snip at £1,270 a year:  sub 1,190; bar/catering 50; full locker 30 (vital when you haven’t got a garage).  Where are those bank details again?  And do I really need to put the heating on in August? (Paying in instalments adds 3.5%, which is more than my Scottish/sensible streak can bear.  Even though it’s only £3.70 a month extra by my phone’s calculation.)

I do object to being designated an FL – Lady Full Playing.  I am a full playing/paying member full stop – and patently no lady – but categories of membership are still struggling to catch up with the modern world.  I’m a fan of family memberships, to try and attract and keep the 25-45 year olds who are working hard and starting families and may not even be able to play once a week, so £1,000-plus is more than an item.  It’s a minefield out there but if we want to survive and thrive, we have to learn to navigate it.  All suggestions gratefully received.

Yesterday, during my post tai chi, blog-delaying visit to the club, I looked at a friend’s copy of The Times, working from the back as usual.  I flicked through the umpteen pages of football (not even looking for who Spurs might be buying at the last minute), paused for a happy moment on the cricket (is this a welcome real revival of the Windies?), tennis from Flushing Meadows and checked to see what golf was on – the season is still in full swing isn’t it?

No golf.  Not anywhere.  Not that I could see.  That’s one of the reasons I no longer buy a newspaper on a regular basis, much though it pains me.  They haven’t the room or the inclination to cover golf week in, week out.  They cherry pick, leaving us to scrabble for info elsewhere.  Fortunately, the owner of the paper (not Rupert Murdoch) – and someone else who overheard our discussion – was clued up enough to inform me that Robert Rock, who’s a local lad (my friend Barb was his mother’s hairdresser), wasn’t playing in wherever it is this week and finished well enough in Denmark last week to move up to 80th-odd in the order of merit.

I might have found all that out on the internet but it was more fun finding out at the golf club.  And isn’t that what clubs are for?

 

 

We have Opens coming out of our ears at the moment:  the big one at Royal Birkdale, the senior men at Royal Porthcawl and this week the Ricoh Women’s British Open at Kingsbarns, a scenic gem just outside St Andrews.  Perhaps it’ll get a mention on 5 Live but who knows?  No sign of a preview that I could see in the Daily Mail, supposedly a paper aimed at women.  But then their golf correspondent, one of the best, is concentrating on the men and Rory’s reasons for dispensing with JP as his caddy.

The women’s football is all the rage at the moment – which is good, but I can’t help thinking that we golfers are missing a trick and not getting in there, elbows out, fighting our corner.  We have to rely on side issues – like dress codes – to boost the numbers and generate interest.  And since our recent rant, the LPGA have instituted their own new dress code, laying down the law, concentrating on the don’ts, the no thises, no thats that make me detest dress codes with a passion.  It’s like kneeling on the floor at school so they can measure how many inches/centimetres the skirt is above the ground.  Does it pass muster?  Does it heck as like.  (Have never been quite sure what that means but it seems right for the occasion.)

Anyway, the women seem to be playing well at Kingsbarns, with Michelle Wie, a proper golfer whatever the hype and brouhaha of her early years and her subsequent trials and tribulations, leading the way with a 64, eight under par.

I’m getting the train up to Leuchars today, to see how the weekend pans out and who hoists the trophy on Sunday.  There’ll also be the announcement of the Solheim Cup team for the match at Des Moines Golf and Country Club in Iowa later this month.  Make a note of the dates:  Friday 18th August – Sunday 20th.  It’s a big deal in Iowa and it should be a big deal over here.  The LET may be wobbling (not a state it’s unused to) but Europe can still put a good team together and I’d be astounded if Annika Sorenstam, the European captain and her players don’t give Juli Inkster, the USA skipper and her team a scare.  The Americans, the holders, are overwhelming favourites, as they usually are but they would do well to guard against complacency.  If I can find a bookie who’s heard of women’s golf, my money’s on Europe….

At a less elevated but no less important level, at least to those of us battling away on fairways far from the madding crowd, it was the Whittington Heathens’ ladies’ captain’s stay-away (not so sure about the hyphen but hope Lynne Truss, author of Eats, Shoots and Leaves and Get Her Off The Pitch! among many other things, would approve of the apostrophes) this week.

We played at Llangollen and Henlle Park and stayed at Lion Quays Resort, just in England, Gobowen way, Ian Woosnam territory and we more or less avoided the rain, bar one torrential plump in the middle of our round at Llangollen.  Both courses were hard work because they didn’t give you an inch:  there was no run because of the rain and we had to work hard for our points but we all had a ball and there were lots of laughs, not least because there are times when laughing is better than crying.

I’m on tour at the moment because after the stay-away it was on to Wrexham, to play in another Open.  An Open that was open to women at my level – and much better.  In fact, thanks to my team, from Wrexham and Fairhaven, all better than me, we won!  I did my bit and we all tried hard, hit more good shots than bad, holed some putts, missed some we shouldn’t have, got plenty of exercise, yakked a lot and laughed a lot.  Isn’t that what golf’s all about?!