I was at a funeral in Dublin on Monday, to say goodbye to Colm Smith, who was the very best of friends.  Maureen and I first met Colm many years ago when we were playing junior golf and he was working for the Irish Independent, in the far-off days when papers covered the full gamut of golf, big and small, female and male, amateur and professional.  Colm, who was a good tennis player, also covered rugby – he was on the Lions tour of South Africa in 1974, a life-changing trip – and when he became the Indo’s golf correspondent, he and Dai became good friends.  So we go back a long way.

At first, when I was trying to think of Colm-related anecdotes, all I could see was a series of snapshots from all over the golfing world, of Dai and me with Colm and Helen, his second wife, who died five years ago, laughing, with Seve; with the Christy O’Connors, Padraig, the mighty Mary McKenna, Irish golfers of every generation; with Maria Acacia and her team in charge of press rooms at Valderrama and all over Europe; with Charlie Yates at the press parties at the Masters at Augusta; drinking Guinness at The Goat in Dublin, vinho verde in Portugal with golf writing friends; at home…..the list goes on and on.  But I’m not the one to talk to about the golf writers’ home internationals because I only played the once – when they were desperate for an extra bod and even a woman would do.

Then Mo reminded me that one year at the Masters she had gone to the Saturday night party, when we sailed up Magnolia Lane as welcome guests, invitation to the fore, as Colm’s date – Helen was at home in Ireland working.  I’d forgotten that we wandered in to the locker room and mooched about taking in the atmosphere, peering at the immaculately polished shoes, even, scandalously, having a go with Jesper Parnevik’s ultra weird putter du jour.  Can’t really believe that Mo, a pro, would have sanctioned taking another pro’s club out of his bag without permission but we treated it with appropriate reverence, honest Jesper.

That might have been the year that I nicked an Augusta National glass from the bar, smuggling it out in Colm’s jacket pocket.  That was probably when the barman, who didn’t miss a trick, said, “I sees you but I ain’t telling.”  Good man and I’m sure he’s long retired now.  I don’t usually steal things but that glass has pride of place on my shelf – yes, miraculously it’s still intact.  I have no idea what its function is – apart from looking decorative – because it’s a bit small for wine and a tad too big for port but I love it and love the fact that Colm was happy to do the needful.  I’m sure that if I’d asked Charlie he’d have given it to me but where’s the frisson in that!

The day that Dai died Colm had flown over from Dublin to see him and it was a real comfort to have him there.  I’ll never forget Mo, Colm and me standing in the garden at St Giles Hospice, laughing our legs off because I’d just revealed Dai’s last word to me – SHUSH……No one will believe this I’d thought, before realising that, on the contrary, everyone who knew us would.  It was, I have to confess, perfect.

RIP dearest Colm and condolences to your family and many friends.

Life and golf go on and the Maguire twins, two of Ireland’s finest, are in Marrakesh for LET Pre-Qualifying B at Amelkis GC.  If they get through that, they’ll play in the final stage later this month.  Good luck to them but whatever happens, they’ll be okay.  They’re smart women as well as good golfers and we’re lucky to have them.

Finally, this being the time of year it is, Mo and I would like to wish our reader(s) a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and say thank you so much for reading.

I couldn’t resist putting this picture in.  Maureen’s post box collapsed recently and at my suggestion she’s been using a plastic box for the time being.  Unfortunately, the lid doesn’t fit too well and it couldn’t cope with all the rain we’ve had recently, so the mag emerged a little the worse for wear.  Well, a lot the worse for wear, its contents a mystery, shredded beyond comprehension.

 

 

This is as close to feeling like JK Rowling as I’m ever likely to get.  It’s a dreich ole day and I’m sitting in a local coffee shop awaiting a steaming latte. The rain is pounding off the glass roof and streaming down the windows as I type away and I am glad to have escaped the baltic conditions of our house.  You see, the man came to service the boiler yesterday and well, broke it.  Not a cheep out of it and with temperatures plummeting, the desire to walk the streets with my laptop seeking warmth and coffee has surfaced with a vengeance.

What did you think of The Match?  The Tiger versus Phil shoot-out in Las Vegas (where else?) for a winner-take-all $9 million dollar purse?  Did you rejoice when televisual technical difficulties meant the pay-per-view idea had to be abandoned and live, free, streaming occurred at the eleventh hour?  Why, joy of joys, we were even able to watch it here in England on Sky.  Are you holding your breath waiting to see if there will be sequel, a Match No 2?

Frankly, I thought this attempt to move golf into the entertainments and gambling industry, with only a small, select VIP audience present at Shadow Creek Golf course, was ill conceived and a new low in the coverage of our sport.  Two sportsmen at least a decade removed from their primes is not the stuff of the box-office and, with woeful performances from the pair on golf’s greatest stage, the Ryder Cup, still fresh in our minds, (a combined zero points contributed to the US cause at Le Golf National), is it any wonder many of you probably weren’t even aware The Match was taking place?  Believe me, you missed nothing.

Of course, various charities and the foundations of the two protagonists will benefit and golf is prodigious in its support of good causes, but don’t let that cloud the issue.  It is difficult to see this contrived spectacle as anything other than a crass lining of the pockets of two individuals, already fabulously wealthy beyond the imaginings of most of us.  They both still crave the limelight their golf no longer merits.  This is a match best forgotten.

By contrast, I well remember the early TV matches between The Big Three – Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer and Gary Player – and the excitement with which we followed every shot.  This was promoting golf at its best – players at the peak of their skills, fire in their bellies seeking victory and grace and good sportsmanship in defeat.  The banter between them was uncontrived and we had the feeling we were simply eavesdropping on a match between three giants of the game.  And, as well as tussling for bragging rights and a financial pot, all three were invested in bringing the game to more and more people and showcasing the sport in the best possible way.

There is much talk at the moment about the declining interest in golf compared to other sports. We live in an izzy-whizzy, fast-paced, low-attention-span, instant-gratification world and golf is deemed to be too slow, too ponderous and too boring to engage the masses.  This is partly responsible for the simplification and streamlining of the rules from next January onwards; the introduction of new formats such as Golf Sixes on the professional stage; and the emphasis that nine holes is fine and we all have time for that, if not for a full round.  These are laudable schemes and will, hopefully, help to attract new players and new fans.  After all, every sport must be prepared to adapt or die, but, please, please do not underestimate the masses.

We do not need to dumb golf down to the lowest common denominator thus losing so many of its nuances and challenges.  There has never been anything much wrong with the game itself and it will continue to beguile and enthrall future generations but only if those of us who play it are more welcoming, accommodating and modern in our approach.  We need to eradicate intimidating golf clubs, pompous attitudes and ridiculous dress rules – some of the real reasons the sport isn’t growing as it should.  The game is fine….it’s some of the people who play it who are not.  As with most things, balance is the key.

So please, no more Tiger-Phil match-ups outside of regular tournament play.  As he so often does, Rory McIlroy summed it up succinctly, “If they had done it fifteen years ago, it would have been great, but nowadays it’s missed the mark a little bit.”  Quite.

Now, time for another latte.

 

Well, well, well.  Dame Laura Davies is going to be one of Europe’s vice-captains at next year’s Solheim Cup at Gleneagles.  I confess I nearly fell over when I heard that.  And I laughed.  Laura, for whom everyone in golf should be thankful, for her skills, her personality, her longevity, her individuality, the sheer sense of fun she brought – and is still bringing – to a game that too often tries to take itself too seriously.  The same Laura who played in 12 Solheim Cups, starting at the beginning, in 1990 at Lake Nona but who year in, year out, swore that she had no interest, ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER, in ever being captain.  Not for me, she said, not my bag.

And as for being in a supporting role, as a vice-captain, dishing out bananas, nuts, sandwiches, cold towels, hand warmers, water, sympathy, advice, plasters, whatever……well, NO WAY.

And now, here she is, on Catriona Matthew’s support team, alongside fellow vice-captains Suzann Pettersen and Kathryn Imrie, saying:  “I’m delighted and honoured to have been asked to be vice-captain for the first time by Catriona.  She sent me a text message when I was doing commentary at the Ryder Cup and I thought, ‘Ah, I wonder what this will be about’.  Sure enough, she asked me if I would do it and I didn’t even have to think about it.  I want to be part of the team and I hope that I can make a positive contribution and help in any way that I can.

“The Solheim Cup has always held a very special place in my heart, right from the first one in 1990.  Many of my fondest memories have been made during the Solheim Cup and I’m hoping that this one, at Gleneagles, will be the best yet.”

DLD, like all champions, is as stubborn as all get out, so perhaps we could do worse than put Catriona in charge of the Brexit negotiations, or similar, if similar exists, given that she obviously has diplomatic skills and persuasion of the highest order.

“It really was a no brainer,” Matthew said, though she wasn’t sure that Davies would accept the offer.  “I’m delighted to have Laura alongside me on the journey to Gleneagles.  She is hugely respected by the players and has a great sense of humour, which will bring a bit of levity.  Her experience speaks for itself.  She has played in 12 Solheim Cups, on both winning teams and losing teams, she has won 87 titles around the world and been the lynchpin of the Ladies European Tour for the last 30 years.

“The players that will be in the team have such respect for her that if any of them need a question answered, they will listen to Laura.  I couldn’t ask for anything better than to have Laura, Kathryn and Suzann at my side as vice-captains and their combined experience will be a great asset for our team.”

They all have quite a job on their hands as Juli Inkster, US captain for an unprecedented third time, will be leading a team intent on winning the trophy for the third time in a row.  The good news is that Europe have never lost in Scotland.  There was the ground-breaking, golf-shattering victory at Dalmahoy in 1992, an upset of epic proportions; then the under-water win at Loch Lomond in 2000; so the pressure is on at Gleneagles.  If it’s wet, Europe should be okay.

It was pretty damp and dreich at Dalmahoy, where no one noticed as Davies and her teammates tore a multi-major American team to shreds – I exaggerate a little but not by much and at this remove it’s hard to convey just what an upset it was.  Foinavon anyone?  (Grand National 1967, odds of 100/1.)  It was in that sort of league.  Loch Lomond was just ridiculous, with delays that favoured Europe in the end and a determination by both sides to finish the contest despite conditions that really required snorkels and flippers.

Anyway, perhaps Laura has decided that she’d like to be Solheim Cup captain after all and has taken the first step over the sidelines, showing willing at last despite years of denial.  Everyone’s entitled to change their mind.  Go Laura.

At the other end of the spectrum there’s Leona Maguire, who’s at the beginning of her professional career after a glittering amateur career.  She just missed out on her LPGA card after a Q-School that took gruelling to another level and she and her twin sister Lisa will be having a go at the LET Qualifying School next month.  In the meantime Leona, who represented Ireland at the Rio Olympics, is a KPMG 20×20 ambassador, starring in an edgy ad campaign to promote the 20×20 initiative, which aims to have 20 per cent more media coverage for women in sport, 20 per cent more female participation in sport and 20 per cent more attendance at women’s events by 2020.

The twins are friends and admirers of Katie Taylor, the boxer, who lost in the quarter-finals at Rio when one of the favourites for gold but learned from that disappointment, turned professional and became a world champion.  Life and sport rarely run smoothly and Leona said, “I learned as much from how Katie handled that loss, which was probably one of the biggest moments of her career, as I learned from watching all her victories down the years.  Her class and all the hard work she has done make her an incredible role model for anybody in Ireland, not just for girls in sport but for life in general.”

I’m watching the semi-finals of the ICC Women’s World T20 cricket from Antigua (where the sainted Sir Viv Richards was one of the spectators).  It was disappointing that the Windies, who’d looked dangerously good in earlier rounds, didn’t give Australia much of a game but for a while India against England was shaping up to be a much tighter affair. In the end, India didn’t have a big enough total to defend and England batted well to win by 8 wickets.  I love the intensity of the players, the commitment and concentration, the different shapes and sizes, minnows like Bangladesh and Ireland playing their hearts out, former England men’s captain Nasser Hussain and former West Indies fast bowler Ian Bishop commentating and critiquing without a hint of hauteur, just enjoying the contests and the cricket.

To finish, I include a picture of my mate Sue, who earlier this week sent her drive sailing over the dreaded dip at Whittington Heath’s 2nd hole.  Not so long ago she despaired of ever making the carry again but Mo gave her a brief lesson,  in the park, without a club and voila.

Sport really is for all.

 

 

 

It’s always intrigued me to observe the relationship between player and caddy.  Undoubtedly, as with any successful partnership, there is a decent sprinkling of magic in there but just what is it exactly that makes it all work?

As a player I was always firmly in the professional caddy camp, believing that a good caddy was as necessary to a player as breathing if you wanted to achieve your potential.  There was no way, surely, that a family member or buddy could possibly step up and deal with the hugely pressurised arena of competitive golf, an arena that nowadays has oodles of prize money on the line.

Well, take a look around you and let’s start with last weekend’s winners.  Lee Westwood rediscovered that winning feeling in Sun City at the Nedbank Challenge, his first victory since finishing top of the pile in Asia in 2015.  He had girlfriend and partner Helen Storey on the bag.  The last time she caddied for him, at the Made in Denmark tournament earlier in the year, he lost in a play-off.  That’s a pretty good strike rate – hope she’s on a decent percentage!

Now, shift your eyes westwards to Mexico and the Mayakoba Golf Classic where Matt Kuchar broke his own lengthy winless streak.  Local caddy David “El Tucan” Ortiz was shouldering the clubs.  “I forgot how good winning felt,” was Kuchar’s response to that most irritating, “How do you feel?” sporting question asked of any victor moments after clinching top spot.

Perhaps the common denominator between these two men is they are both in their forties, both are prolific winners (although majorless) and both have accrued decades of nous and experience, knowing how to win, no matter who is on the bag.

However, when I consider one of my favourite players, Padraig Harrington, the matter becomes a little more complex and perplexing.  (Isn’t that always the way with Padraig?)  He partnered up with brother-in-law Ronan Flood amidst a storm of criticism and in fairly short order reeled off three major victories in twelve months.  Ronan subsequently became one of the very best caddies out on tour but he wasn’t at that level when the really big prizes started rolling in for his boss.

And what about Georgia Hall, the young Englishwoman who is now ranked 7th in the world?  Her Dad takes over caddying duties from her boyfriend at two tournaments – the Solheim Cup, arguably the biggest stage of them all – and at the Women’s British Open which she won in emphatic style this summer at Royal Lytham & St Anne’s.  Her explanation for having her father on the bag is that he knows her inside out, knows her game so well and she feels entirely comfortable with him alongside her.

And what of Tommy Fleetwood with best mate Ian Finnis on the bag?  That certainly works.

Then, on the other side of the coin you have a player of the calibre of Adam Scott, who persuaded Tiger’s former bagman, Steve Williams, to come out of retirement to work for him at the majors.  Scott wanted to win a major and felt having one of the world’s best with him was important.  They subsequently won the Masters together, vindicating the Australian’s decision.  After Williams totally and finally retired Scott sought out the expertise of Fanny Sunesson, erstwhile caddy of six-time major champion Nick Faldo.  I walked a hole or two with Fanny as she made her final on-course preparations prior to a St Andrews Open one year.  To say it was an eye-opener is an understatement.  The level of detail in her work and her knowledge of the course was extraordinary and, although now no longer caddying, she is still working with current players, dispensing her knowledge and experience.  Henrik Stenson considers her an invaluable member of his team, still believing he can learn from her.

Another who feels her learning curve is trending upwards thanks to her caddy is Carlota Ciganda, the passionate Spaniard who plays on the LPGA Tour.  Her bagman is Terry McNamara, former looper to Annika Sorenstam and Ciganda unashamedly states she is learning so, so much from him.

Then there is Justin Rose, currently bouncing around between 1st and 2nd in the world rankings.  He is another with a superb career caddy on the bag.  He and Mark Fulcher, are a well-known, tried-and-tested partnership, celebrating their tenth anniversary this year.  That’s some achievement – they are in all likelihood spending more time together than they do with their wives/partners and families.  And while I’m at it….why, oh why was Fooch, the winning caddy, not given a gold medal at the Rio Olympics?  But I digress.  Fooch used to caddy for former US Women’s Open champion Alison Nicholas and has diligently worked his way to the very top of his profession over many, many years.  There is now none better.

It seems pretty obvious that one size does not fit all, as is proven by the dizzying array of partnerships on view in the winner’s circle of the world’s tours.  One of the most important factors seems to be how comfortable the player is with the caddy and the extent to which the caddy knows and can read his or her player.  Words are not always necessary between them and it seems to me that the importance of a caddy to each individual player depends on that player’s own point of view and requirement.  Those who prefer to do things themselves will surely be more likely to turn to friends and family – perhaps they have an arrogance and self-belief that they do not need anyone’s help.  This is not a criticism – these are qualities present in almost all winners and, as we have witnessed, sometimes these friends and family do become top class.  On the other hand, some players believe they want the best there is on their team and will search out top men and women accordingly.  To each their own, it would appear.

It’ll be interesting to see which path Rory takes as his buddy Harry Diamond, who has been on his bag for a year or so, is getting ready for married life.  Will Rory go down the buddy route again or search out a top-class caddy to help him stride towards those majors he so craves?  If Lee Westwood sticks with Helen Storey on the bag, perhaps Billy Foster, one of the world’s best, will become available.

Food for thought, Rory?