The cartoon above dates from 1928 and the caption has the caddie saying:  “‘Ave yer finished with the links for today, Sir?”  Sir is stomping off, clubs and caddie abandoned, radiating rage from every pore.

Every golfer, at whatever level, has to learn to cope with the frustrations of a game where the ball sits there waiting for you to hit it.  There’s no opponent trying to kick it or hit it out of your way; no one trying to send you flying with a big hit, sorry, tackle; it’s just you and a ball, sitting there waiting quietly for you to do your best/worst.  Easy-peasy.  No problem…..

As every golfer knows, it’s not quite as easy as it sounds and Eddie Pepperell, an affable Englishman who’s still just in the top 50 in the world as I write, had some sort of meltdown at the Turkish Airlines Open last week.  I don’t think he’s written one of his entertaining, thought-provoking blogs about the incident yet but he put four or five balls in the water, then walked off, saying he’d run out of balls.  His partners Martin Kaymer and George Coetzee were gobsmacked and Pepperell was DQd for not completing the hole and the round.

Yesterday, the R&A tweeted a picture of the finalists in the 2009 Boys Amateur, who now have seven professional wins between them.  Tom Lewis beat Pepperell 5 and 4 and the tweet asked:  “Who would win now?”   Pepperell, having recovered his humour and, with luck, his equilibrium, replied:  “Probably Tom as I still have no balls.”

Dai, my late husband, had his moments on the golf course but the most memorable were mostly of the volcanic variety.  Some of his former colleagues have some hair-raising tales, including behaviour the man himself would have excoriated as appalling:  stomping off the course without finishing out or shaking hands, heading straight for the car – not the bar – and roaring off.

On one memorable occasion, at Whittington, Dai’s temper didn’t make it as far as the 1st green.  Our 1st is a hole he used to call “the easiest par 5 in the country” and he invariably, inevitably, took at least six.  This time he hit two crackers just short of the green and, for reasons best known to himself, took out a horrible, deep-faced, heavy-headed wedge that he’d liberated, again for reasons best known to himself, from the dark recesses of a friend’s garage.

The ground was wet, Dai duffed the ball into the dip in front of the green, considered the situation briefly, then let out a roar as he raised the club above his head and speared it with all his might into the sodden turf.  As the head buried itself well en route down under, the shaft broke in half and the bit with the grip went spinning off towards the rough, with the bit in the ground vibrating wildly.  My beloved’s temper was not helped when he saw me in a stomach-clutching, shoulder-heaving heap on the ground.

It took him some time to extricate the buried bit because it was hard to get a grip of the shattered, spiky-edged half of shaft but he managed it and hurled the two pieces into the trees behind the green never to darken his golf bag again.

You may not have seen the comment from Des O’Reilly on Maureen’s post about our golf at Portrush and it bears repeating here.  Mention of Lilian Starrett (nee Malone) brought the memories flooding back.  “I remember my first introduction to Lilian at the Hermitage Scratch Cup (circa 1978),” Des said.  “As a starry-eyed new boyfriend, I was cadddying for Therese [Des’s late wife, the incomparable Tiny], who thought Lilian was ‘great craic’.

“She was warm and friendly until after a couple of poor shots on the 6th or 7th hole she turned to her clubs and caddy car and quietly but with intent beat the living daylights out of both with a 4-iron. This scared the living daylights out of me. I never uttered a word for the entire rest of the day!  In fact, it took a good few years before I felt at ease in the company of ‘the Starrett’!…..”

Not long after writing this, Des received a phone call from a woman puporting to be a solicitor ringing on behalf of said Starrett, mentioning defamation, libel and the like.  It was, of course, Lil, insisting that she was a reformed character and would be battering her new TaylorMades only on the practice ground.

Even the sainted Bob(by) Jones had to learn how to curb a fiery temper.  Famously, the man who received the freedom of the Burgh of St Andrews in 1958, picked up his ball and tore up his scorecard in the third round of his first (British) Open, at St Andrews, in 1921, describing it later as “the most inglorious failure of my golfing life”.  He did win the Open on the Old Course in 1927 and the Amateur there in 1930, the year of his Impregnable Quadrilateral that also included the Open, the US Amateur and the US Open.

Jones also had an inglorious moment at the US Open in 1920.  As a precocious 18-year old paired with the venerable Harry Vardon, aged 50, Jones made a mess of the 7th hole after thinning a straightforward pitch over the green into heavy rough.  Vardon wasn’t much of a chatter and the pair hadn’t exchanged a word until Jones, embarrassed and nervous, said, “Mr Vardon, have you ever seen a worse shot?”

“No.”

Neither of them won that championship – Ted Ray, an Englishman, was the champion – at Inverness in Toledo, Ohio and 101 years later, in 2021, when the club hosts the Solheim Cup, some of us hope that it’ll be another foreigner, a Scot, holding the trophy aloft.

To no one’s surprise, Catriona Matthew, who led Europe to victory at Gleneagles a few weeks ago, will be captain again at Inverness.  She was at home in North Berwick, cooking dinner, when the call came asking her to do the job again and she was delighted to accept.

“Being captain of the winning team was the highlight of my career,” she said.  “Capturing the Solheim Cup in Scotland, an hour’s drive from our home, with my close friend Suzann Pettersen making the clinching putt on the last hole in the last match on the course…..you can’t top that.”

It’ll be different away from home, with the crowd cheering the Americans on but Catriona relishes the challenge:  “I love Toledo and Inverness is such a Scottish name, I’m hoping that’s a good omen!  Winning the Solheim Cup in Scotland was a dream come true but backing that up with a win in America would be even better.”

 

 

 

This is the sport that keeps on giving………….and giving.  A couple of days ago Patricia and I rolled in to Portrush for a day’s golf with great pals, Kath Stewart-Moore and Lilian Starrett.  We were trying to work out when we had all first joined this great club and reckoned it was the late 1960s or at the very latest the early 1970s.  There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since those days and even the odd decade has passed with very little contact, but as we all ease into our retirements we have found it so easy to pick up where we left off.

In the old days we were no slouches.  Lilian was a wonderfully talented “feel” player who got down to scratch by the age of 20 and represented Ireland on several occasions.  She continued her upward trend by captaining her country on three occasions, the most memorable trip being to Moscow which afforded a peep into the privileged existence enjoyed by the high-ups in the Politburo.

At her best Kath got down to four and played for Ulster.  Like Lil she also captained Ireland in the shape of two girls’ International sides and she is arguably creeping up on her proudest moment in the game.  In January she will become the Lady President of Royal Portrush Golf Club, a just recognition of her immense contribution to the sport and the club.  Mind you, I was more than a little annoyed to hear she had demoted her victory over me in the 9-hole heats of the Collin Cup in 1982 to second place in her list of proud achievements.

Patricia’s lowest handicap was also four and her debut into girls’ International golf was seamless with a 100% win record at North Berwick way back in 1971.  However, when questioned as to her most memorable moment in the game she still resolutely cites witnessing Alison Nicholas’ victory in the 1997 US Open at Pumpkin Ridge.  Alison defeated the US favourite Nancy Lopez in a nail-biting finish and despite covering many of Tiger’s and Jack’s glorious victories for the Times nothing resonated with my sister quite like this.  Her own 3rd place finish in the Heath Scratch Cup, although cherished, didn’t quite cut the mustard.

So, it was in the company of these three titans of the game, with 164 years of golfing experience between them, that I teed off on Wednesday.  Fresh in my mind was the last time I was on that hole – namely on Sunday 21st July in the pouring rain, waiting for Shane Lowry to take history by the scruff of the neck and win the Open.  We were aghast at his untidy bogey 5 up that first hole but looked upon it more favourably when our best player managed a resounding seven!  I know it was an impossible pin, only ten yards on and front left, but, still – to win the hole with a seven!!!!

The course, obviously, has now been denuded of Open Championship furniture – the grandstands, the signage, the ropes, the camera towers and so on, have all gone.  But, to me, it was so much more like the Portrush I’ve known and loved for so long.  It was a perfect day, weatherwise, if a tad chilly at 4 degrees and, I have to say, the golf (apart from Kath’s) left a great deal to be desired.  However, as always, this has to be the best club in the world for the welcome afforded to golfers at the initial point of contact with the customers.  Gary McNeil, the professional, who so proudly played 36 holes as the marker in the Open at the weekend, runs a tight ship with his staff who are simply superb in the service industry.  It is a pleasure to enter the sanctuary of the pro’s shop.  Time stands still and conversations have time to be enjoyed.

It’s not simply time on the course that counts, obviously, but the time spent together – the “do you remember whens?”;  the piecing together of the collective memories of the same events, some of them widely differing;  the occasions one of us remembers something with total clarity as the other three look on blankly.  It’s all grist to the mill for folk with a united love of golf.

Even when I was younger I was always acutely aware of how fortunate I was to be involved in a sport that tends to be played in beautiful surroundings.  Thank God I wasn’t a swimmer whose playground would have been likely to be a 50 metre chlorinated, indoor pool!  (Do they still put chlorine in pools?  Probably not!)  Not many beautiful, uplifting vistas there, however, to take your mind off poor performance.

As I weaved my way round the links the other day I was able to recall so many of the deft skills Shane Lowry displayed on his way to his greatest golfing achievement.  It was quite something coming down the last in the gloaming to hark back to the tumultous scenes we had all witnessed there in July.  Then, I was totally caught up in the moment, lustily joining in with the thousands of voices serenading the winner with the Fields of Athenry, followed by Ole,Ole, Ole!

This time there was no singing, rather a weary relief that we could now make our way to the sanctuary of the bar, chew the fat, put the world to rights and gird our loins for our next day’s play.  More beautiful, and changing vistas, to enjoy;  more time with lifelong friends;  a bit of fresh air and exercise and the never-ending challenge of getting the ball into the hole as fast as possible.

How lucky we are.

Some things annoy me – like people who jump queues; like “space invaders” on the roads who squeeze themselves into the safe gap you’ve left between you and the car in front; like duffing a chip.  And then there are some things that REALLY annoy me – like golf scribes and commentators lauding Tiger’s  achievement of equalling Sam Snead’s 82 PGA Tour victories and proclaiming that he is now entering unchartered territory in golf in terms of victories.

Excuse me one darn second.  What about Kathy Whitworth?  Now 80 years old, Whitworth won 88 times on the LPGA circuit between 1962 and 1985.  And before you ask, her competition was certainly no push over.  She tussled with many legends of the game – Mickey Wright, Betsy Rawls, Louise Suggs, JoAnne Carner, Nancy Lopez, Patty Sheehan, Betsy King and Beth Daniel – every single one of them elected to membership of the LPGA Hall of Fame, arguably the toughest sporting club in the world to join.

Whitworth won only six majors but played in an era where for many years there were only two a year – now there are five – and so she had limited opportunity to have a tilt at the “big ones”.  She did, however, amass eight money titles, seven scoring titles and was named LPGA Player of the Year seven times.

I could go on and on about her achievements and regret that I never did meet her, a true legend of the game but Patricia did meet and talk with her on several occasions.  Patricia describes her as “humble” and “helpful” and said that “she waxed lyrical about Mickey Wright, who was just better than anyone else”.

Don’t get me wrong, Tiger’s victory last Sunday in Japan to reach the magic number of 82 PGA Tour wins is extraordinary.  But let’s ditch the tunnel vision and recognise that sometimes golf records and extraordinary feats are not found solely in men’s golf.  Let’s celebrate women’s achievements too.

The start of this week found me over at Patricia’s helping with her ongoing and seemingly endless clearing and decluttering.  A lifelong journalist with a strong inability to throw out anything at all presents a bit of a tidying challenge but we cracked on with a fair degree of success.  One of the things that amazed even me was the carefully preserved correspondence she turned up with some of the great movers and shakers in the game, particularly the women’s game.

There are letters from the great Joyce Wethered, once described by Bobby Jones as “the greatest player, man or woman, I have ever see”.  They are now nestling alongside notes from Louise Solheim, wife of Karsten the founder of Ping;  Barbara Nicklaus, wife of, and power behind, the one-and-only Jack;  Jessie Valentine, the pride of Scottish golf;  and Enid Wilson who became the women’s golf correspondent of The Daily Telegraph after a playing career that saw her win three consecutive Women’s British Amateur titles in the 1930s.  That’s quite a treasure trove that, hopefully, she may share a little of with you in future blogs.

Finally, young Irish golfers are flying high in American collegiate golf this week with Lauren Walsh and Julie McCarthy making headlines but one particular piece of golfing news this week brought me great joy.  Mark Power, a young Irish player who is in his first semester at Wake Forest University, won the prestigious East Lake Cup, a stupendous achievement for a freshman in collegiate golf.

He has form, though, – a strong amateur record in Ireland which includes consecutive Irish Boys’ titles.  His Mum and Dad are no slouches either – each has won three Irish titles with Mum, Eileen Rose (always known to us simply as ER), also playing Curtis Cup.  The pedigree extends further back, too, to previous generations, so there’s an abundance of stellar golfing genes.

I just wonder who wins the money on the family golf outings?

 

It’s the middle of October but why wait till New Year for sweeping changes?  So, first, a much-needed new hairstyle and, secondly, and more importantly, the breaking news is I’m shortly going to treat myself to some new clubs.  Not exactly earth shattering stuff, is it, but my current set IS 15 years old and, although relatively lightly raced over that time span, it is definitely time for an upgrade.  So, before taking myself off for a club fitting at a certain place in Lincolnshire I decided it was time to visit my great friend and former coach, Lawrence Farmer, now living in glorious Somerset.  I thought it’d be handy to have a bit of an MOT on my own swing and time spent with Lawrence is always a joy for lots of reasons.

We first met around 25 years ago, introduced by Trish Johnson, former Solheim Cup player and multi-tournament winner.  Lawrence was coaching Trish at the time, along with a number of other players on the Ladies’ European Tour, notably, I remember, Aussie Karen Lunn, who blitzed the field at Woburn in 1993 to win the Women’s British Open by a whopping eight shots.

I had never, to that point, met anyone with such a detailed understanding of the golf swing, matched only by his desire for more and more information.  His voracious appetite for reading and researching all things golf was what struck me greatly and that enquiring and searching mind is present to this day.

And when Lawrence made up his mind to do something he was unwavering in achieving his goal.  One day he decided he needed to up his fitness levels, so he started training with a view to running the London marathon.  The greatest obstacle to his success turned out to be when his Dandie Dinmont dog ate the microchip that Lawrence was supposed to wear on his shoe to time and track his progress during the race.  Ignoring our advice that now he would have to run carrying the dog, he completed the first of his three marathons, then turned his attention to cycling and shortly afterwards completed the Land’s End to John O’Groats trip.  Another goal was ticked off the list.

We spent some 90 minutes last week hitting shots and talking golf and I came away, as always, refreshed by this remarkably enthusiastic coach, encyclopaedic in his knowledge and blunt in his delivery.  He never stops learning, questioning, striving and I’ve learned so much from him as regards my own coaching career.  He inspires me every time.

If you told me I could never play another round of golf but I could hit balls and chat with Lawrence for 90 minutes every other week, I would be happy with that – THAT’S how much I enjoy our sessions.

On the long, wet journey back from Somerset with the tail end of hurricane Lorenzo as a companion I began to muse on other influential figures in my golfing life.  First of these was a man I met when still at school.  My mother had written to Peter Alliss asking him to recommend a good golf coach in the Edinburgh area as Patricia had just gone to uni there.  Back came the answer:  John Shade, the professional at Duddingston Golf Club.  And so as a 15-year old I travelled over to the Scottish capital to spend half-terms and holidays with my big sis and I began to have lessons with JS, as we called him.

I don’t think that I realised for one minute then just how good a coach he was.  Sure, I knew that he had coached his multi-initialled son Ronnie (RDBM – known as Right Down the Bloody Middle) to five consecutive Scottish Amateur Championships, four Walker Cups and four professional wins but it was only as my own knowledge grew that I appreciated him more.  We worked hard together on the practice ground and boy, did we laugh!  He was straight-talking with a Scottish gruffness that frightened me a little at first, but he was kindness personified, giving me lifts across the city to where Patricia lived so I wouldn’t have to clatter up and down to the top deck of the bus swaying its way down Princes Street.

They were great days but far too short.  JS died in March of 1979 three months before I won my first British title.  He would have been proud of that but more proud, I suspect, of helping set a gangly teenager from Northern Ireland off on a wonderful journey in the world of golf.

Sandwiched in between these two professional giants and inspirations in my golfing life was another person pivotal to my development, both as a player and person.  Pat Park was the coach/manager of the Lamar University women’s golf team in the 1970s and was brave enough to recruit me, amongst others, to the Texas uni in the hope that the team would qualify for the National Finals for the first time in their history.  We repaid her belief in us by finishing in the top 25 in the country, thus qualifying for the finals in Hawaii.  We repeated the feat the following year as well – a tremendous achievement by a coach with limited financial resources but boundless energy, positivity and enthusiasm.  She took many young, very green players under her wing and helped them produce their best with a no-nonsense attitude that encouraged a strong work ethic and team camaraderie.  We are friends to this day and still in touch.

Yes, golf is great, but it’s the people in your life who make your life.  I feel anybody in any walk of life who finds a mentor is very fortunate.  I have been very lucky, very lucky indeed.