There’s only one blogger on the case this week because Mo has been laid very low by the dreaded Covid and could barely raise herself from her sickbed let alone raise a finger to tackle her keyboard.  Fortunately her latest test, taken yesterday, was negative, so she’s on her way out of self-isolation and starting to feel human again.

To aid her recovery, golf, proper golf, leads the way this week with the unsurprising announcement that Suzann Pettersen is Europe’s new Solheim Cup captain, charged with defending the trophy in 2023, at Finca Cortesin on the Costa del Sol.

The Norwegian, who holed the winning putt at Gleneagles in 2019, was one of Catriona Matthew’s vice-captains at Inverness Club in Ohio this year as Europe pulled off another stunning victory and said, “I am simply thrilled…This is the biggest honour of my career.

“My best golfing memories are from the Solheim Cup.  You are there with your team mates, your friends and you all work for one goal.  You fight for your friends and you share incredibly precious moments. I love the fighting spirit and how we come together as a team and fight for one another.  It is a lot of fun.

“I’m very excited…I feel like I know a lot of the players but in two years’ time we might have a lot of new young players.  I think my biggest role from now until then is being out there and getting to know them and building relationships.

“At the end of the day, having learned from Beany [Matthew] and the other captains that I have been with, communication is everything.”

Pettersen, who made her Solheim debut at Interlachen in 2002, used to be unbelievably hard on herself as a player and ferocious in the single-mindedness that won her two majors but marriage and motherhood have given her a new perspective and maturity without dousing her competitiveness

She’s hoping for some Spaniards on her team and Carlota Ciganda is one veteran who will be busting a gut to make it.  She won her national title, the Andalucia Costa del Sol Open de Espana, in impressive style at Los Naranjos last weekend and no one was in any doubt what it meant to the 31-year old from Pamplona.  Cool, calm and collected enough to win by four shots, she couldn’t hold back the tears afterwards as she was embraced by family and friends.

“It’s hard to explain,” she said.  “I get emotional because I love Spain and I love my family, so it’s just amazing to win this week.  It’s a tournament that I really wanted to win…to win your country’s tournament is something very special, so I’m very happy.”

Like Pettersen, Ciganda comes alive at the Solheim, putting her heart and soul into the match, inspiring teammates and spectators alike.  She’ll not want to miss out on home turf.

We’re making plans to send a contingent from WHGC to Spain – a former captain has already done a recce – and cheer Europe to another famous victory.  The Americans will have other ideas, of course and viruses and travel restrictions permitting, they’ll have plenty of supporters to cheer them on.  It should be terrific.

Viva Espana.  Vamos.

It would be remiss of me not to mention Atthaya Thitikul, the 18-year old from Thailand who has just become Europe’s No 1 by winning the 2021 Race to Costa del Sol.  She was also rookie of the year and became only the fourth player to achieve that double, joining Dame Laura Davies, Ciganda and Esther Henseleit.

Thitikul won twice and was rarely outside the top six, amazing for someone who didn’t compete at all last year because of the pandemic.  “It’s been a rollercoaster of a year but all the hard work I put in last year has paid off,” she said.  “At the beginning of the year I was scared to see what the conditions were going to be on the golf courses and how the grass plays and if I was going to be able to handle it..

“I’m really proud of myself for the second-place finish on a links course in Scotland [the Trust Golf Women’s Scottish Open at Dumbarnie Links], while my wins in Switzerland and the Czech Republic were similar conditions to Thailand….My goal is to get better ever single day, I don’t want to just win tournaments, I want to get better in my game.”

She now hopes to secure her card in America and no one in this corner doubts her ability to succeed and adapt wherever she plays in the world as Thailand’s women golfers continue to flourish.

There’s not been much golf in this neck of the woods, with WHGC closed because of snow and frost.  In case we frustrated golfers took the reappearance of green grass to mean that we were free to take to the fairways again, we were directed to an old but relevant blog by Chris Lomas, a former course manager at The Berkshire and former deputy head greenkeeper at Swinley Forest.  In “The Big Thaw”, he explained why it’s important to be patient and wait for the ground to defrost properly.

In essence, we have to respect the judgement of the course manager.  If we move in too early, when the surface is soft and underneath is frozen, Lomas said:  “Walking on the turf will break the roots and likely kill the plant.  Multiply this with hundreds of footprints over a relatively small area and without exaggerating you can devastate your greens…”

Enough said, we’ll hold ourselves back, do the Christmas shopping, play a bit of bridge, walk the dog (perhaps just round the edges of the course) or go to the range and do a Thitikul.

 

 

 

 

 

Cast your mind back to the days when we were working our way out of lockdown and golf was allowed again.  One player at Bramhall Golf Club signed up for the 06.30 tee time – the first slot – each day.  It was Bronte Law, Solheim Cup star and England’s and Cheshire’s finest, who plays mostly in the States and recorded her maiden win on the LPGA in that glorious season of 2019.

Always a grafter, Bronte was working on a radical change to the action that had made her the darling of the Solheim Cup crowds at Gleneagles.  Not for her any kind of break from the grind of a tour player’s life. Rather she seized the opportunity to investigate a stronger, more durable movement that would take pressure off her back and potentially afford her some semblance of longevity in the game.

It was a risk.  Not all swing changes are successful, many players finding themselves left floundering and falling between the twin stools of the old swing versus the new.  Frequently the resulting hybrid is neither use nor ornament.

It’s not easy being a professional athlete.  It’s relentless hard work with zero guarantee of success and you are frequently weighted down with copious amounts of expectation – your own and other peoples’.  I’m not sure which is the more difficult to deal with.  Of course, we, the public and the armchair golfers don’t see any of that.  We don’t live in a haze of dissatisfaction because we can’t fight our way back to where we once were.  We don’t see the hours in the gym, the attention to diet and the lack of a social life.  We only see the players on our TV screens who are near or at the top of the leaderboards and who have scaled the peaks, usually having ridden out lots of troughs.

At last week’s 54-hole Dubai Moonlight Classic Bronte was three behind the effervescent and colourful Mexican Maria Fassi going into the final round.  In fact, there were 19 players within six shots after round two and with a shotgun start it was hard to keep track of where the winner might come from under the floodlights.  Fassi did very little wrong, carding a final round 68 but 26-year old Law was six under for the last eight holes, coming from next to nowhere to shoot 64 and claim her first Ladies’ European Tour win.

That’s all the validation a player needs in order to know they made the right decision to change their swing.  Bronte, looking very trim and honed, had played seven weeks in a row, something her body wouldn’t have allowed her to do before.  She looks to be back where she wants to be in the game, contending for titles and becoming part of Solheim Cup conversations again.

I couldn’t be more delighted.  It almost makes it worth having being on the end of some of the withering looks only a 15-year old can give you.  These usually occurred at Cheshire county coaching when she considered I’d asked her to do something she thought particularly stupid!  Ah the memories – and she was probably right!

Golf, as many of us are aware, seems to move at a glacial pace, both on and off the course.  There is change afoot, however, that is going to impact the elite amateur game in a massive way and it’s set to come in to force in the New Year.  The amateur status rules are being relaxed to allow amateurs to earn money from endorsements, sponsorships and the like as well as being able to accept up to £700 in prize money.

Not before time, I say.  To compete at elite amateur level requires full-time participation in all the top events yet up until now these players have not been allowed to make any money from their activities.  The game changer took place earlier this year in American college golf when restrictions were lifted regarding use of a player’s name, image or likeness (NIL).  College players can, and are, signing with agents while still amateur and deals with equipment companies, for example, can now be more than simply the provision of free gear.  A hefty endorsement fee can now accompany the deal.

Obviously, this rule is only relevant to a minute percentage of those who play the game but it is important for another reason.  Hopefully, the lemming-like leap into the pro ranks because a player can’t afford to remain amateur will cease.  Too many wonderfully talented people have been lost to the game permanently because their transition to the paid ranks has ultimately led to the graveyard of their dreams.  It’s important that in the future the choice of turning pro or ceasing to play because of lack of funds is something that won’t need to be considered.  It also means we can keep scores of talented players in the game at amateur level.  They’ll be our future administrators, our Walker and Curtis Cup captains and will have so much to offer the game at club level as well.  It seems like a win-win to me on several levels.

Talking of club golf, I spotted this on Radio 5 Live’s golf correspondent Iain Carter’s twitter feed.  What do you think?  A good idea or not?

I followed through on my intention last week to return to Enville golf club where the R&A Under 16 Girls’ Championship was being played.  One of my main reasons for going, believe it or not, was Gareth Edwards, CBE, Welsh and Lions rugby wizard of yesteryear.

Let me explain.

For some years, Patricia has owned a limited edition Grogg of Gareth, Dai’s favourite player and when she discovered that our golfing pal Pam Chugg was friendly with the Edwardses she unashamedly tasked Pam with getting Gareth to sign the piece.  That was more than two years ago during which time Grogg Gareth has been socially distancing down in South Wales chez the Chuggs.  Finally, the deed was done and I learned that Gareth, (of the Grogg variety) was en route to Enville with Pam who was refereeing at the Girls’ Championship, so it seemed a good idea to facilitate reuniting Gareth and Patricia.

Of course, it was also a great opportunity to catch up with Pam, another of the blog’s favourites, and of whom we have written on more than one occasion.  A former Welsh international (at golf, not rugby) and early pioneer of the Ladies’ European Tour, Pam has held pretty much every top administrative post in British and Welsh golf and was deservedly awarded the MBE for Services to Women’s Golf.

Given all the shenanigans we have endured over the past twenty months or so with the pandemic, she has only recently received notification of her big day out to receive her gong.  Residents of Windsor, prepare yourselves for a mid-November visit from the Chugg connection.  I can’t promise that the blog will be allowed to publish photos of the big day – something about Hello magazine having exclusivity, I believe – so we will just have to make do with a refereeing pic in the meantime.  Hope she scrubs up well for Windsor.

Despite having an abundance of friends dripping with awards and medals I have only been present at one investiture and that was back in 2012 at the British Ambassador’s residence in Dublin when Mary McKenna received her MBE.  (That’s it at the top.)  Like Pam, but for different reasons, McKenna (as she is widely known) had quite a wait before receiving her medal.

Firstly, there was the historic visit of the Queen to Ireland which put a lot of other diplomatic business on hold for a while.  Then there was a two or three month hiatus while the newly appointed ambassador, Dominick Chilcott was installed.  It was worth the wait, however.  Mary essentially had a private party for thirty people, hosted for her by the British ambassador and his wife.

It was a wonderful occasion in a superb setting and once the gravitas of the ceremony was over we were encouraged to wander through the residence and its grounds at will.  The food and drink were both divine – and plentiful – and Patricia and I were thrilled to be invited, along with Dad, who was bursting with pride for McKenna, who was always (whisper it) his all-time favourite.  It’s one of my most special memories out of a whole treasure chest that golf has given me.

Back to Enville and after a morning watching the golf I was fortunate enough to have a bit of lunch and a chat with another MBE, Bridget Jackson, who confided in me that on October 1st this year she had been a member of Handsworth Golf Club for EIGHTY years.  Those eighty years of golfing have been action packed with numerous international titles and caps.  When prompted, she volunteered that her most memorable trip had been to Australia in the mid 1950s.  I asked her how long she’d been away for, fondly thinking back to my own month-long adventure on a Commonwealth team Down Under.

“Seven months,” came the nonchalant reply.  “It took a month to get there; then there was three months in Australia, followed by two in New Zealand and then another month to get home.”

The LGU paid the fares out and back and the golfing unions of Australia and New Zealand hosted their visitors for the duration of their stay.  Wow, wow, wow – just imagine, seven months away and your only form of communication with your families is by letter.  How right Bridget was when she said she regarded it as her university education, the university of life that is.  The players were responsible for their own “incidentals” on the trip and Bridget remembers her total, which included a few perms at the hairdresser, being £70.  Sounds like a scandalous overspend to me!

When the drives were no longer quite so long and true, Bridget provided a steadying hand on the rudder for both the English Ladies’ Golf Association and the Ladies’ Golf Union and it was no surprise when she was awarded the MBE and then, more recently, in 2017, honorary membership of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews, one of the first women to receive this accolade.

It was a joy spending some time with her, seeing how her passion for the game is undimmed and hearing some of the marvellous tales she has to tell.  When I was leaving she was off out on to the course to see these modern whizz kids who can drive it miles and putt fearlessly.  Little did the players realise the calibre of golfer who was about to be forming part of their gallery!

(By the way, it was an England 1-2-3 at Enville, with Buckinghamshire GC’s Rosie Bee Kim, 14, winning the title, two shots ahead of Woburn’s Roisin Scanlon and three ahead of Ellen Yates of West Hill.)

In a rather haphazard way MBEs have formed a thread throughout today’s blog but I’d like to finish with a completely unrelated PS – just because it makes me smile.  One of my non-MBE friends, Gillian Stewart, coaches 10-year old Fraser Mackenzie of Inverness.  Last week Fraser had the thrill of his life when he was allowed to join Gill and Gordon Moir, another friend of the blog, for a game on the Old Course, his first visit to the Home of Golf.  Playing off a handicap of  8.8, Fraser birdied the Road Hole and two of his three shots (the drive and the putt) were captured on camera for posterity by his Mum!  Thanks to Vicki for the photos below.  He confided later to Gill that it had been “the best day of my life”.

And it’s going to be pretty hard to top!

Last week my better half and I escaped to the Emerald Isle for a wee break (we’re still here) – the first time since pre-pandemic days.  We had an outstanding ferry ticket to be used from the shenanigans last year, so booked ourselves a passage from Holyhead into Dublin on the Dublin Swift.  I always opt for the Swift as it takes the shortest time, about two and a quarter hours and my friends and family know what a lousy sailor I am.  Last time I was here and was faced with a few too many ripples on the water between me and home I aborted and headed to the airport, leaving the husband to ferry home alone.

Things didn’t get off to a rip-roaring start when, 24 hours prior to sailing, a text message pinged in saying due to adverse weather conditions we had been moved to the big ole tub of a ferry, complete with stabilisers and so on, which sailed three hours later than our original scheduled time.  Apprehensive didn’t quite describe how I was feeling about the whole trip but, armed with ginger tea, seasick pills, a roll of kitchen paper and copious discreet sick bags, I weathered the rolling about not too badly at all.  It was strange, though, coming off the boat and immediately having to join a queue for Customs – a throwback to days of yore, and not a welcome one at that.

It is essential to pack holiday reading and I brought with me a tome that has been in my possession for at least two years but one which I hadn’t got round to reading before, Donald Steel’s “Thin End of the Wedge”.  I’m halfway through and engrossed and at that delicious point where you hope it’ll be raining later on so you can return to base with a clear conscience, sink into a comfy armchair and get reading again.

Donald is one of those who, to the outsider, looks effortlessly skilled at all sorts of things, mostly to do with golf, although cricket does come a very close second.  Intriguingly he has on the cover of his book, “Memoirs of a golf correspondent, player and course architect”.  I’ve been pondering the order he listed those three parts of his life.  Although undeniably all are inextricably linked, if the order were chronological would it not have been player, golf correspondent and architect?  So why put golf correspondent first?  Perhaps he himself gives more weight to that part of his life?  Hmm, hard to think that of such a prolific and talented architect.  He didn’t plump for anything as mundane as alphabetical order and although Donald may just have dashed these nine words off with scant thought I secretly hope there was some rhyme or reason behind it.

I’m enjoying his book on so many levels.  There’s no one in golf he doesn’t know; he is a bridge for me back to golfing folk I never met but was a fan of in my early days; I’ve played, and enjoyed, many of the courses he has designed; he’s a brilliant raconteur and, for me almost most important of all, he writes beautifully.

This brings me to a topic oft discussed and argued about in our household – the evolution of language, both spoken and written.  As regards the latter, I find myself increasingly intolerant of poor grammar and spelling when reading anything by people who get paid for writing.  The number of “correspondents” who can’t write grammatically appals me.  It certainly distracts me from the point they are making and detracts from my enjoyment of their pieces.  Of course, the opposing point of view is that language evolves and what does it matter if the apostrophe is in the wrong place?  You understand what is being communicated, don’t you?

I’ve been so, so lucky to have read so many wonderful writers on golf over the years.  My late brother-in-law, David Davies of The Guardian, wrote beautifully crafted pieces, littered with little gems of information that you would never be able to find by googling something.  The writers of that era, and Donald Steel certainly fits into this category, knew the players they were writing about, forged friendships with many of them and there was a shared respect and trust.

The landscape is different for more modern writers, of course.  Tour players, like a rare species, are protected from having to mix with the hoi-polloi and access to them is strictly controlled and monitored by Tour media bods who are constantly poised to whisk away their precious charges.  Therefore, opportunities for relationships of mutual respect and understanding are more limited – and, heavens above, friendships, as in Donald’s day, are rare beasts.  In lieu of really knowing a fellow human being, Mr Google (with all his faults) assumes greater importance and shallow, ill-informed writing is the result.  Because of budgetary constraints many journalists aren’t sent to tournaments and spend their Sundays watching the action unfold on television.  How impossible the task to write well when at the mercy of whatever pictures a TV producer chooses to show you.  With no chance to talk to players or get the feel of the action on the ground good golfing journalism is dying a death.

I know already that this book of Donald’s will be one I read and read again.  As I type this, I’m looking out the window at what the Irish call a “soft day”.  In other words it’s raining again and on this holiday that means only one thing – pass me Thin End of the Wedge, please.