My husband has a significant birthday looming at the end of June and he has recently announced his intention to “stop working” later in the year.  Rather alarmed, I waited a few weeks to see if this was likely to be a short-lived intention, but no, plans are being laid and I detect excitement and enthusiasm in the air.  I waited to see if there would be any mention of MY “stopping working” but nary a mention of it so far.  When I finally broached the subject, he looked at me uncomprehendingly and said, “But you LOVE what you do!”

I can’t deny it, I do.  Golf has been a passion for decades and so much a part of my life that I can’t envisage not being involved in at least some small way, so no, no plans to stop at the moment.  For many professional athletes, however, deciding to call it a day must be the most difficult decision they ever face.

I was lucky.  Back in 1998, numerous back injuries plus a couple of difficult off-course personal problems had me questioning the wisdom of continuing to play on Tour.  And then, out of the blue, I was offered a four-year contract to coach the GB&I International squad, which was structured to allow me to continue as Welsh Ladies’ National Coach as well.  It was a terrific challenge and opportunity for me and, hard though I found it to believe, I left the Tour I loved with barely a backward glance.  No empty gaping void for me – my time was instantly choc-a-bloc with different things golf, but still golf.  And, in reality, no big decision to be made – it was largely taken out of my hands.

But as golfers we are so lucky. Even if our skill level doesn’t quite satisfy the bank manager our golfing experience can provide a stepping stone to a host of other professions loosely gathered under the wide-arcing umbrella that is Golf.  Consider the following possibilities:  teacher; promoter; club administrator; referee; corporate ambassador; broadcaster; after dinner speaker; golf holiday organiser; clubmaker; club professional; course designer; writer; event manager; clothes designer; retailer; agent; product tester; caddy; greenkeeper; the list goes on and on especially here in the UK where we have more golfing bodies, unions, associations and tours than anywhere else, all needing golf-knowledgeable folk to grease the wheels of commerce.

It seems to me that sometimes the more successful you are as a player the more likely it is that you will find life difficult after those heady days of topping money lists and winning majors.  The transition isn’t always as straightforward as it seemingly was for Annika Sorenstam and Lorena Ochoa, both of whom run their own multi-million dollar organisations and foundations.

 

I know of more than one player who suffered depression post touring days.  And then, of course, there are those who simply don’t want to, can’t or won’t let go.

Laura Davies is a case in point – 32 of her 53 years have been spent plying her trade on the world’s tours with four majors and in excess of 70 tournament wins worldwide.  She’s fit, healthy, has an undimmed passion for the game and will continue to compete as long as she thinks she can grace the winner’s circle again.  Go Laura!

Then there’s Tiger.  Another back surgery a couple of weeks ago, the fourth I think, and no prospect of an imminent return to the game he dominated for a decade.  So what keeps him from calling it a day?  He sure doesn’t need the money.  It must be the passion, the love of the game, the highs he gets from competition.  Competing at golf is as essential to him as breathing air.  Opinions abound as to what he should or shouldn’t do as regards giving up the seemingly unequal struggle to get his body fit for play.

It was Michael Chang, the former tennis player, in an interview with Dottie Pepper, who put it best.  “When you spend more time rehabbing than playing the sport you love,” he said, “then it’s time to call it a day.”

I don’t suppose for one minute that you’re listening Tiger?  Neither is my husband.  You’ll continue and he’ll stop – seems the wrong way round to me!

 

A blog is a bit of a diary I suppose, so perhaps I shouldn’t feel guilty about going all me, me, me again, look where I’ve been playing this time.

 

It’s not as though there’s not lots going on:  Rory getting married – congrats to him and Erica; Padraig making up with Sergio; Justin teaming up with Henrik in the vaguely innovative Zurich Classic (foursomes and fourballs not just individual 72-hole strokeplay, hallelujah); Florentyna Parker beating Anna Nordqvist and Carlota Ciganda in a play-off in Spain; Rickie Fowler apparently on the verge of abandoning most-eligible-bachelorhood; Lexi in tears after the R&A and USGA amended the decisions on video evidence (though whether it would have saved her or not at the ANA is the subject of much discussion); Marta Figueras-Dotti addressing the great and the good of golf  in St Andrews; a Rosses Point man winning the West of Ireland for the first time in 67 years – congrats to Barry Anderson; the men of Whittington Heath winning the annual match against the women (sorry, ladies!) again…..Well done boys, well played gentlemen….

In that particular encounter, my partner and I, playing off 16 and 13 respectively, were beaten 4 and 3 by a late substitute, who’d already played 18 holes, playing off 16 and my dancing partner, a leftie playing off 17.  It was classic matchplay and an object lesson in the importance of bearing down from the off.  We let them off the hook at the 1st by three-putting but were two up after 3, then lost the 4th when they holed from 18 feet up the slope for a par 3 and we three-putted.  Three over par after 3, four over after 5, they were six over par gross when the match ended on the 15th, where we’d needed a birdie 2 to have any chance of keeping the match alive.  Hmmm.

All suggestions for tackling the knotty problem of handicapping in mixed matches gratefully received!  Also, are men just naturally more competitive than women?….Nah, I don’t think so, really.  Putting lesson please.

Anyway, having reluctantly accepted that you can try hard and be stubborn and uncompromising but still lose even when the skill levels are much of a muchness, I have to concede that I am not the stuff that British and Irish Lions are made of.  Too dozy, too flaky, too bad at maths always to count the score properly.  Not sure I can even claim it’s hormonal at my age; think the hormones have buggered off or gone to sleep or on strike or whatever it is they do.

I perked up the next day though, because I played at Hillside for the first time and it was just as wonderful as I’d been told.  It was a gloriously bright day, a tad chilly but with very little breeze and looking down the 1st fairway, it was just begging you to play golf.  Even non-golfers could see the attraction!

As members of the AGW (Association of Golf Writers) we had been granted courtesy of the course to play our President’s Putter comp but I bought a ball-retriever gizmo for £22 so that I could have my £4 retro two-wheeled trolley (three wheels are de rigueur these days surely?) for nothing.  Not every member of the AGW has a head for figures, which is why we usually play Stableford because our scores often don’t amount to much.  If we stuck to strokeplay, even a computer might crash and all too few rounds would be played to a finish.

There’s a railway running alongside the course, as railways should, with S & A (Southport and Ainsdale GC) on the other side of the track, to the left as you’re playing the 1st.  To the right, with the stands for the Open already going up, is Royal Birkdale, so you’d be hard pushed to find a better stretch of golfing territory anywhere.  Formby and Formby Ladies are a short hop away, so there’s proper golf everywhere you turn.

Mo’s bunker tip from last week came in very handy at Hillside, where I was in the sand so often that the old Lawrence of Arabia jokes started to pall a lot.  The only time I failed to get out first time was at the last, where I panicked and didn’t follow the instructions.  Still, I was pleased enough with my haul of 30 points, not least because it meant that I joined several others in second place, one behind the winner Dick Turner.  The PP is not the prettiest of trophies and one former winner, retrieving it from his garage where it had languished, unloved, for a year, was told by his wife, in no uncertain terms:  “NEVER BRING THAT THING BACK HERE AGAIN.”

He hasn’t.

 

I’m glad I’m a golfer.  Golfers tend to be found on or adjacent to golf courses and golf courses are usually lovely places to be and many of them are in stunning parts of the world.  Last October I played a trio of delights in the Emerald Isle – http://www.madillgolf.com/places/portstewart-portrush-castlerock-a-trio-of-golfing-delights

Well, this past week I turned left out of the gate at my Cheshire home and, along with a Welsh pal, Pam Valentine, headed north to Scotland.  As we sailed past Gretna we mused over whether we’d soon be needing passports to cross the border, which led to us reporting to Drive Up Drive Off Sandra, ( http://www.madillgolf.com/coaching/warm-hot-start) our hostess and one of our fourball for the week, that we had spotted the planning notice for a border crossing and the foundations were already being laid.  Her immediate outrage caused us great merriment.  We really are very simple folk!

But on to the golf and the first stop from our Nairn base was Dornoch.  Pam had last been there in 1999 joyfully witnessing Wales’ first ever victory in the women’s Home Internationals and the good memories came flooding back as this former international player, captain and selector prepared to play the course for the first time.  It did not disappoint – and neither did her golf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The course was in superb nick for late March and as the sun climbed high in the sky the layers of thermals came off and we ended up feeling we couldn’t have had a better experience had we come in mid summer.  The match went to the last with Pam and her partner, Gill Stewart, birdieing two out of the last three to grab the bragging rights.  Ah well, almost a perfect day!

Next on our list was one of my favourite places – Castle Stuart.  We rolled up on what turned out to be the opening day of their season and the welcome overflowed into the car park to envelop us.

Elspeth, Jeremy, Stef, Keith, Lennie et al were on hand effortlessly smoothing our way to the first tee, meeting us at the half way house with a mug of lentil soup and a hot dog and sliding a glass of Guinness (other brands are available) into our hands at the 19th.  Perfect weather, a course in amazing condition for early spring and complete visual overload – what a combination!  Again, the match went to the last, this time yours truly digging out a couple of birdies in the last three to tie things up.

This was all a winter warm-up for our next outing a few days later at Muirfield against Stuart McEwen and his team in the 22nd playing of The Madill Trophy.  Smarting from numerous defeats over the years, the Honourable Company have upped their game recently bringing in some formidable rookies, rugby’s Gavin Hastings being one.  Gillian and I had a ding-dong match with Stuart and Gavin, finishing all square but victory by the recalled PC Brown and partner Chris Cowan ensured a lunchtime lead of a point for the hosts.  Eight-a-side and 36 holes of foursomes translates into a total of eight matches all played under the Dallmeyer handicapping system.  The brainchild of a former member of the HCEG, any side reaching 3 up has to give a stroke a hole until the match gets back to one, which usually results in very close matches.  I, for one, certainly don’t mind receiving Dallmeyer and then going on to win!

Alas, the men ultimately edged home this year, winning by 4.5 to 3.5, sabotaging some of my (not unwilling) team at lunch with liquid refreshment.

So, Scotland really put on a show for our golfing journey – three magnificent golf courses, wonderful weather and lots of laughs.  Pity the week had to end – anything following is sure to be a comedown.

Now where’s my diary till I see what’s next…..Ah yes!  Monday 3rd April – Augusta!  It’s a tough life!

In a rather idllyic corner of the Home Counties nestles the world famous Sunningdale Golf Cub, 36 holes of glorious rolling heathery heath that has seen its share of top-class golf and golfers over its 117 year history. And this week this little corner of England has once again witnessed the delightfully special tournament that is the Sunningdale Foursomes.  The club’s website describes it thus:  “A unique competition played since 1934 and open to Professional and Amateur, Men and Ladies.  Played under special handicap.”  Any combination of pairing is acceptable and top-class players and recognisable names litter the draw sheet.  This year two Open champions were in the field – Paul Lawrie and Sandy Lyle – and down the years hosts of Ryder Cup players have tried their luck.

As an amateur pairing in the 1980s my fellow Irish international colleague Mary McKenna and I benefited from the slightly skewed handicapping system that would see us the recipients of 11 shots if we were playing two male professionals.  Even though we played from the same tees we were completely capable of scoring in the mid 70s, which provided an almost insurmountable task for many of our opponents.  In the space of half a dozen years or so we sailed into three finals and a couple of semis.  The majority of matches were on the Old course but you couldn’t make your way through the draw without at least one match on the New course, where we felt we were slightly more vulnerable.

One of the highlights of any match was the almost obligatory refuelling stop at the renowned sausage hut, situated at the back of the 10th greens on both courses.  On one occasion, having completed ten holes on the New, Mary was enjoying her sausage sandwich, leaning against the doorway of the hut.  Leaning on the other side of the doorway was Sam Torrance with his Ryder Cup partner and friend, Irishman John O’Leary.  They had just completed ten holes on the Old and were keen to see how we were doing but didn’t want to speak too loudly in case our opponents were nearby.

So Sam, in his best 007 style, stared straight ahead and spoke out of the side of his mouth:  “How are you doing, Mary?”

McKenna never missed a beat and, without so much as turning her head, said from the side of her mouth, “We’re finished.”

Sam suffered an immediate choking fit and never did get to enjoy finishing that particular sandwich. Mary, however, thoroughly enjoyed hers as it had long been her ambition to finish off one of our matches by the time we got to the hut.  Her killer instinct was always alive and kicking.

There are a few names – and partnerships – in the 2017 draw that I recognise from our day, namely Andrew Hall (Sand Martins) and Andrew Reynolds (Royal Cinque Ports).  I suspect they’ve played every year since.  How’s that for resilience, eternal optimism and keeping old age at bay?   The two Andrews formed their illustrious partnership when assistants at Sunningdale and I cannot think of a pairing who have got more enjoyment from the week.  They played two matches this year, each going the full distance, so they are still obviously intent on testing ageing nerves.  If anyone knows of  a longer partnership in this event do let me know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is the understated nature of the event that is so appealing – dogs make up the largest part of the gallery, there are no sponsors’ signs – and it is golf at its purest.  Enjoyably serious but seriously enjoyable.