It’s October, so it must be time for the July Club to meet.

Faithful followers of this blog will be aware of the existence of this little club of golfers, exclusive only in that it has four members, two Scotswomen and two Irishwomen.  One day our collective brainpower, such as it is, hatched the idea that we should have an annual golfing trip, lasting a week, and that we’d alternate each year between Ireland and Scotland.  The natives of that year’s host country were responsible for sorting out the accommodation and organising the golf courses.  Not too difficult, you might think, and certainly it wasn’t, as we all lived (or knew folk who lived) in places that were ideal centres for a golf week.

The get-together was to take place in October as that seemed the only realistic time of year we could reliably co-ordinate our diaries.  Eligibility for entry into this exclusive little club rested solely on being present when the idea was first mooted which means the full roster of membership reads as follows:  Gillian Stewart and Sandra Ross from Scotland and Mary McKenna and Maureen Madill from Ireland.

One of our early trips provided us with a catchphrase for our group.  We were staying down in the wilds of southwest Ireland with a great friend, Kay Keating, who introduced us to the gem that is Dooks, her home club.  She’d send us on our way each morning to wherever we were playing that day, saying she’d be waiting for us, “arms outstretched”, when we came home.  And indeed she was – arms outstretched, fire lit, meal on the go, wine open, all set for another evening of incomparable Kerry hospitality.  In ensuing years, when we would meet up again for our precious week in October there would be great arms outstretched reunions at airports to kickstart the trip.

Originally, the week would pan out something like this:  Sunday was travel day, Monday golf, Tuesday golf, Wednesday sightseeing, Thursday golf, Friday golf, Saturday sightseeing, Sunday home.  So, in the beginning at any rate, we played four different courses at each get-together.  One year we played Carnoustie, Kingsbarns and the Old Course at St Andrews – all on this week’s roster for the Alfred Dunhill Links Championship on the DP World tour.  I guarantee we had more laughs than we had a right to and our competitive juices were fuelled by the cut and thrust of fourball golf.  I think the fourth course we tackled that year was Ladybank, home of the late Dale Reid, a wonderful character and great friend.

It was realising that we’d arrived at the week of the Alfred Dunhill that set me to thinking of all the courses we have enjoyed playing as part of our little club.  How’s this for a selection?  Amongst others, our list comprises Royal Dornoch, Tain, Brora, Royal Aberdeen, Aboyne, Ballater, Banchory, Nairn, Castle Stuart, Royal Tara, Donabate, Seapoint, Co Louth, Dooks, Waterville, Ballybunion, Royal Portrush, Portstewart, Castlerock, Royal Co Down and The European.

Ah…..The European.  What a course…and what an ethos for a golf club.  Lovingly crafted by hand by architect Pat Ruddy and his entire family the course is a joy.  It’s for golfers by golfers………..everything is secondary to the course.  The clubhouse is modest – no Taj Mahal-like edifice here.  Don’t get me wrong – it’s perfectly comfortable but there’s certainly no hint of affectation nor any delusions of grandeur.

The only thing to come close to rivalling the course is the welcome and it was in the pro’s shop that Gerry Ruddy unwittingly provided the name for our little group.  He had us in stitches, making a right show of salaaming as the great Mary McKenna sailed into the shop.  She’s royalty in Ireland, rivalling the one and only Christy O’Connor (known as “Himself”) in the affection in which she’s held by the golfing populace.

Steeped in the game. Gerry instantly knew of Gillian’s prowess – three-time Scottish champion, Curtis Cup player and multiple Ladies’ European Tour winner, amongst her many other accomplishments.  He made the same good-natured fuss of Gill and I also got a few mock bows thrown in my direction.

Sandra thought she had him licked.  “Well, you don’t know anything about me,” she said, thinking that a mere scratch handicap and County Championship titles may have passed him by.

“Oh, yes I do,” Gerry responded quickly.  “You’re Miss July.”

After general astonishment and questioning, Gerry informed us that as an accredited photographer at multiple Open Championships, his visits to the media centre had made him very familiar with the sight of Sandra up a stepladder keeping the giant scoreboard up-to-date for the world’s media.  This was pre the electronic boards that are used now and each year Sandra was the leader of the team that manually put in every hole score for every player in the field.  She was blissfully unaware that her legs were at the eye-level of several hundred writers and snappers (mostly men) for an entire week for 32 years!!  Hence the nickname.

We all loved this yarn and forthwith decided that our group name would be the July Club – it still brings a smile to our faces, so thank you Gerry.

It’s some years now, with Covid and lockdowns and suchlike, since the July Club boasted four fully playing members.  The Irish half of the gang have somewhat fallen by the wayside, with Mary Mc now an avid, and accomplished, photographer, as opposed to golfer.  And over the last six months I’ve come to terms with the fact that my playing days are behind me and am currently exploring new interests and/or hobbies to take their place.  We won’t disband the club, however – it may just slightly change direction.

The 2024 meeting was at this year’s Curtis Cup at Sunningdale.

Time plans were afoot for 2025.

 

Enid Wilson was never one to mince her words.  “We were a shambles,” she said.  “The Americans had been practising, not just to familiarise themselves with the course but to work out their foursomes pairings.  They didn’t play Scotch foursomes so they had to get used to the format.  We didn’t know who we were playing with until we were on the way to the 1st tee….They won all three matches.”

Enid, who became a formidable figure in the game, terrifying generations of female golfers with her forthright views in The Daily Telegraph, was talking about the first Curtis Cup match, played over a single day on the East Course at Wentworth in May 1932.  GB and I (Great Britain and Ireland, as they now are) duly lost to the USA and Joyce Wethered (later Lady Heathcoat-Amory), the home captain and a player beyond compare, confessed that she wasn’t any great shakes as a captain.

Her team, who did at least know the course, pitched up at about teatime the day before the match and on the day itself had to scavenge for crumbs at lunchtime because no one had thought to make provision for them.  The visitors, much better organised simply by virtue of being the away team and expertly marshalled by their formidable captain Marion Hollins, had arranged to have lunch at their hotel, away from the hordes of spectators.

“It was a rout of the disorganised,” Enid said.  “And deservedly so.”

The sisters Harriot and Margaret Curtis, from a large, wealthy Boston family, were both champion golfers who travelled overseas to play before the First World War and for many years harboured hopes of establishing a competition “To stimulate friendly rivalry between the women golfers of many lands”.  That is the inscription on the Curtis Cup, a lovely bowl of Paul Revere design and while the result matters and the competition is fierce, it’s the friendships that really count.

At Sunningdale this week there are lots of brilliant old photographs and boards chronicling the history of the competition, so even the greenest newbies and those who still think that history is bunk will start to learn the names of the pioneers and outstanding golfers who have gone before.  Many of us here, including undistinguished hackers like me, go back a long way and met the likes of Enid, who loved to talk and Joyce Wethered, who did not!  At least not about golf and certainly not about her own exploits.  In later life gardening and art were two of her passions.

It’s a real gathering of the clans here at Sunningdale this week, where the only surprise is that the players have not been allocated a dog each.  It’s more or less verboten to take to the course for a round without a canine companion.  There are lots of labs and spaniels and in one notable case a venerable barrel-shaped chihuahua, who these days sticks close to the clubhouse and the treats on tap there.

At the opening ceremony, Seamus, the Irish wolfhound, was one of the stars of the show and was quite happy to be the centre of attention.

And just to show off the uniforms and the bearskins and some of the always colourful American supporters enjoying the pageantry, here’s a slightly better effort.

One of the joys of looking at old team photographs is to compare the fashions then and now and, often, to wonder who on earth chose the uniforms.  It’s fun to look at the styles down the ages and marvel at how young everyone looks and check out what shoes they’ve chosen!

To finish, back to Enid.  In 1984, at Muirfield, under the captaincy of the formidable Diane Bailey, GB and I came agonisingly close to winning.  It was a classic BBU (brave but unavailing) and they lost by a point, their 13th consecutive defeat.  Two years later, when the team to face the Americans at Prairie Dunes, in the middle of Kansas, in temperatures that would reach 100 degrees fahrenheit (high 30s centigrade) was announced, Enid was not impressed.

“Bring out your dead,” she wrote, a tad unkindly.  “If this team wins, I’ll eat my hat.”

The main reason for her ire was the selection of Belle Robertson and Mary McKenna, two of the finest golfers Britain and Ireland have ever produced, who had been on numerous teams and never been on the winning side.  They were, in Enid’s view, well past their sell-by date, scarred beyond saving and no longer of any use whatsoever.

However, Diane, captain again, was determined to put a stop to the losing rot and had a cunning plan.  She played Belle and Mary only in the foursomes, paired together and they won their first match and halved their second.  The visitors won all three foursomes on the first day and the first three singles in the afternoon – the format has been changed now to include fourballs – and led by 6 1/2 points to 2 1/2.  The world of golf was in total shock.

GB and I steamrollered on, to win 13-5 and become the first team, men or women, amateur or professional, to win on US soil.  They were followed by the Ryder Cuppers, who won at Muirfield Village in 1987 and the Walker Cuppers, who won at Peachtree in 1989.

But it was the Curtis Cuppers who did it first.

And I’m not sure Enid ever did eat her hat.

 

 

I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I watched Lydia Ko being presented with her gold medal at the conclusion of play in the women’s golf in Paris.  She looks nothing like the round-faced, bespectacled youngster who won her first tournament on the LPGA tour when still an amateur.  That was in Canada and it was 12 years ago.  Unlike many sporting phenoms she has stayed the course, crafting a mind-blowing career that now sees her enter the LPGA Hall of Fame, which has the strictest and most demanding requirements of all such bodies.

Twenty-seven points are required for a player to unlock the door to the Hall, a task arguably more difficult than breaking into Fort Knox.  A player receives one point for each victory on the LPGA circuit, two for winning a major, two for having the lowest stroke average at a season’s end and two for winning the Player of the Year award.  A gold medal garners one point and last Saturday’s victory edged Ko over the line.

It’s hard to imagine a more popular victory or a more deserved exclamation point to a wonderful career.  And I think we’d better enjoy her while we can because this talented, creative player always stated she wouldn’t play beyond 30.  At 27 she’s now married to her childhood sweetheart and golf is no longer the be-all-and-end-all.  She’s already plotting a life away from the fairways.

I have only spoken to Lydia on a handful of occasions but one episode stands out clearly in my mind.  It was the 2016 Women’s Open at glorious Woburn, one of the years the championship was played on the Marquess course.  Lydia was in a bit of a lull, career-wise, and was changing coaches and caddies, which she did with a fair amount of regularity.  As usual, her every move was under the microscope with no let-up, no matter her score.  I was tasked with interviewing her after one of her rounds, either the second or third, and was waiting in the scorers’ area behind the 18th green when word came through that she’d knocked it out of bounds off the last tee.

My heart sank because that usually meant one of two things – the player would be in a foul mood and stonewall every question in a grudging interview (something I’d experienced loads of times with the men) or else they’d blow you off completely.  This would mean you’d spent ages hanging around to no avail when you could have been engaged in something more productive.

I should have realised that this was not Lydia.  She did take a wee bit of time in the recorder’s office getting herself together before coming out to do the round of media obligations.  As host broadcasters we had first dibs and when I asked her was she happy to proceed she said,  “Just give me a second till I finish eating this chocolate!”  I said, “Of course” and when she finished, and before we started the interview, she apologised and said, “I’ve just made a double (bogey) and life is always better with chocolate, I find.”

Gracious, engaging, thoughtful and the ultimate sportswoman, who is constantly seen on camera applauding her opponents’ good shots, Lydia has enhanced our game in a way few others ever have.  That’s why I was blubbing as she received her medal and I was feeling privileged and thankful to have crossed paths with her, albeit in a very small way.

There is more captivating women’s golf on the menu for the next couple of weeks, too, starting with the ISPS HANDA Women’s Scottish Open which started yesterday at Dundonald Links, the third consecutive year the tournament has been played there.  It’s a course I’ve never played but it’ll surely provide a measure of relief for those who played in Paris last week.  Everywhere you turn, seemingly, on the Le Golf National venue you are negotiating water, the most penal hazard a course can provide.  In fact, there was water “only” on ten out of the eighteen holes but for many it was the stuff of nightmares.

Gold medallist Lydia and Germany’s Esther Henseleit, who won the silver, are both playing as is the defending champion and darling of the French, Celine Boutier, whose every shot last week was greeted with encouragement and cheering by the rightly partisan spectators.

It should all be quite a feast – and easier to track down, telly-wise, than the Olympic golf, and, of course, the following week all eyes will remain on Scotland, swivelling towards St Andrews and the final major of the year, the AIG Women’s Open.  Having an opportunity to become a major winner at the home of golf is a chance that falls to very few and it’ll be enthralling to watch that particular story unfold.

Can’t wait.  If you’re anywhere remotely near these two events being hosted in bonny Scotland, do hurry along if you can.  I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.

Over the eight-odd years of this blog’s existence the sister and I have penned our missives from some weird and wonderful places and, in the early days in particular, it could be quite challenging from an internet connection standpoint.  I don’t think, however, that I’ve ever pored over the keyboard in such an enchanting environment before.  We’re in North Carolina in, well, in an airbnb that is rather akin to being in a large tree house that has been decorated inside and out by Fred Flintstone.

This is real get-away-from-it-all family time but, as is the way with the modern world, it’s easy to keep your finger on the pulse of whatever you wish.  So, this week, sprinkled in between celebrating a very big birthday for Patricia and sourcing craft breweries for Brian, I have kept half an eye on all things golf.

Some things don’t change.  Scottie Scheffler, for example, doesn’t seem to have set aside his winning ways, notching up his sixth win of the season at the Travelers Championship in Connecticut.  This is one of the PGA Tour’s eight Signature events, which were part of their response to the threat of LIV golf poaching their players.  That means the fields are limited, the prize money is enhanced and at least five of the eight have no cut –  criticisms the tour used to level at LIV Golf re their tournaments.  It’s not a response I particularly like as I’m instinctively opposed to anything that reduces playing opportunities for full members of a tour.  But, hey-ho, I suppose some enticements are necessary to reward top players for staying loyal to a tour that offers them a platform to earn multiple millions on an annual basis.  What a world we live in.

Meanwhile,  Nelly Korda, also a six-time winner on tour this year, was on her way home after missing the cut in the KPMG Women’s PGA Championship.  This was her third consecutive missed cut and her second in a major in the last month.  That just goes to highlight the frustrating difficulty of this sport.  Nelly has enjoyed a sublime five months when she has had the ball on a string, putting together a run of victories that would define a successful career on any player’s CV.  She is burnt out and tired but recognises the rollercoaster nature of the game as she prepares to reset and ready herself for the remainder of the season.

Nelly’s blip is a great opportunity for the other players to make hay.  It was Amy Yang who stepped forward and crafted as much as a seven-shot lead at one stage, before hanging on grimly to ease home in the end by three.  Her lifelong ambition of major success has come at the age of 34 and as she cradled the trophy the one name that stood out for her was that of Se Ri Pak, winner in 1998, and pied-piper and inspiration to generations of South Koreans.  It’s been a long journey since her first professional win on the Ladies’ European tour as a sixteen-year old amateur.

Normally a player’s cup runneth over when they hole out for a significant win but there was an unexpected bonus for Amy moments after she claimed the title.  She learned that she had vaulted up the rankings, snaring a spot on the Republic of Korea team for the Olympics in Paris in a few weeks.  Now an Olympian for the second time as well as a new major champ, she summed her day up perfectly:-

“Some days,” she said, “golf feels so easy and feels so fun; other days it feels like I want to retire very soon.”

No matter our level of skill I think we can all agree with her on that.

Not thinking of retirement any time soon is 52-year old Padraig Harrington who is hoovering up titles and oodles of cash on the PGA Champions Tour.  He won his third consecutive Dick’s Open in New York on Sunday, one week after being inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame at Pinehurst.  This was his eighth title on the old boys’ tour and his second of the year.  His thirst for learning and his love of the game are infectious and his youtube series of “Paddy’s tips” is well worth a look.  They’ll often make you laugh, too – informative AND entertaining is a potent mix.

Padraig has never altered in his demeanour and approachability through all his time on tour.  Back in 2006, when I first went to broadcast in the US, (and before his major victories had started to arrive) I was watching Padraig practise on the range, standing well back so as not to disturb him.  It was my first tournament and everything was new – the crew I was working with, the equipment I’d been assigned –  and I’d been dispatched to gather up a couple of interviews for one of the numerous pre-game shows so beloved by the Americans.

As Padraig walked back to his bag he looked up, spotted me and immediately came over to the rope line.  I did have accreditation to actually be on the range but was too timid to trespass on that holy ground.

“Maureen, what are you doing here?”

“I hardly know,” I mumbled.  I explained what I needed and nothing would do him but he would halt his practice and wait patiently while I made sure the tape was on and then – off he went.  As usual, he delivered insights and comment that were terrific, making me look like I knew what I was doing.  What a confidence boost he gave to a rookie out in America.

Kindness itself.  I’ve never forgotten it.

Finally, in a remarkable first, Ireland is hosting two of the world’s premier amateur golf events in consecutive weeks.  The Amateur Championship has concluded at the wonderful Ballyliffin in Co Donegal with lefty Jacob Skov Olesen (picture at the top of the piece) becoming the first Danish winner of the title.  The Women’s Amateur, which has been taking place this past week at Portmarnock, is due to finish tomorrow.

What a feast for Irish golf fans – and how wonderful to see history in the making.