Phew!  What a week.  Where do I start?

The 151st Open Championship is now in the rear-view mirror and, as is the way with these things, it was a disappointment for many but a triumph for a few – particularly Brian Harman, the diminutive  left-hander from Georgia, who was announced as the Champion Golfer of the Year last Sunday.

Life-enhancing as it certainly is for Harman, it is a week that is potentially life changing for Matthew Jordan, the Royal Liverpool golf club member who qualified at the nearby West Lancs course.  He then went on to hit the opening drive of the Championship and finished in a dizzying tie for tenth place which guarantees him a tee time at Royal Troon next year.  His bank balance has had a cool $308,000 added to it and his world ranking has jumped from 329th to 203rd.  Now that’s what I call a good week.

Alex Fitzpatrick, younger brother of last year’s US Open champion Matt, was another who came through qualifying and on this occasion overshadowed his more famous sibling.  Alex was out playing the course and doing his prep the Thursday before the Open when I was up having a look at the course myself.  That paid dividends for him and as a newly-minted professional of a mere twelve months his share of 17th place and cheque for a smidgeon under $188,000 is a confidence booster par excellence.  A financial cushion of that size eases all manner of pressures and anxieties and is so freeing for the player.  Expect to see more of him in the future.

The course was magnificently prepared by James Bledge, the Links Manager, and his crew.  One of the bones of contention, which got plenty of air time, was the preparation of the bunkers, which were raked so that the bases were flat and the walls perpendicular.  When Mo Richmond and I walked the course together, we had plenty of opportunity to get a close-up view of these monsters.  There were even a couple on the left of the 9th where the back lip was overhanging the sand.

I thought they were tricked up, overstepped the mark and were, quite frankly, not golf.  Not even the world’s best can make a ball move vertically upwards and then forwards, so belated kudos to the R&A for amending the raking to ensure a small slope to the height of the first rivet – not that they should have got the set-up wrong in the first place.

If you think the pros are too pampered and want everything manicured to the nth degree (which they probably do), why not keep the penalising quality and difficulty of sand play by reintroducing rakes with wide gaps between the teeth?  Jack Nicklaus did this at his Memorial tournament but the outcry from the players was such that even the great man bowed to the pressure.  What a pity.  Two wrongs don’t make a right, however, and vertical faces are most definitely not the answer.

My billet for the week was in a house just over the fence from the 7th green and on the days I had a later start I could waken in the morning and hear the applause from the nearby galleries.  Being able to walk to the course was the perfect way to beat the traffic.  Second best was arriving by bike, which legions of spectators did, and there was an enormous secure bike park provided over near the practice range.  Some did prefer to try and park a little closer, however.

And for those who didn’t have tickets the mesh fence separating the 4th green from the pavement outside the course proved irresistible.

 

My brief this week was to be a contributing member of the Open Radio broadcast team under the able stewardship of Steve Tebbs.  On air for virtually every shot of the Championship it was a huge effort from a very talented team and my debut with them was fun and enjoyable from start to finish.  Hopefully, the great mix of voices and characters provided a good listen and it was a pleasant change to walk the fairways with someone even taller than me.  Thanks to Rob Dinwiddie (picture at top) for being such a good companion.

I was only sorry that socialising was on short ration for me yet again this week but it’s another major in the books and huge thanks to all the team, as well as my Sirius XM colleagues, for looking after me so well.

By my reckoning that’s the 29th Open I’ve attended and the 23rd one at which I’ve worked.  Each and every one has been different and has had its own high points and memorable moments.  I don’t think you’d be surprised at which is my all-time favourite:  think Royal Portrush, 2019 and Shane.

But my favourite thing of all is the moment a new champion lifts that claret jug and realises all the hard work and sacrifice have paid off.

It’s a joy to witness.

 

I tuned in to a WiJ (Women in Journalism) seminar on AI (Artificial Intelligence) the other night, managed to connect via Zoom but realised, yet again, that I’m now well-nigh unemployable unless all the satellites fail and pencil and paper rule again.

Remember when Prince Charles (now King) threw a bit of a wobbly when a pen leaked or wouldn’t write or whatever?  Well, something similar happened to me when I couldn’t find out how much Brian Harman, the new Open champion, had earned in pounds sterling, the currency of the realm in which he won his title.

The Open app, as far as I could tell before fury and meltdown took hold, didn’t even mention the prize money, though I’m sure Martin Lewis – no, wrong Martin, it’s Slumbers (above), the R and A’s chief exec, another financial whizz….I’m sure he mentioned during the week what the total prize money was, though I’ve now forgotten and my notes only tell me that he reckoned the money had probably risen three years earlier than anticipated because of LIV ‘n all.

He talked about the financial sustainability of professional golf – where will it all end essentially, what’s the limit?  – and the need to find a balance between prize money and money devoted to the grassroots of the game, the R and A’s raison d’être, funded by the Open.  Probably a good thing that Slumbers was a banker in his previous life and understands money, presumably.

I don’t suppose Harman much cared what currency he was paid in last Sunday.  His smile said it all:  the claret jug is priceless.

He should be made for life but is anything ever enough for competitive millionaires who long to be billionaires?  There’s always a bigger yacht to hanker after.  Another Ferrari (or is that old hat?).  More acreage.  Another tractor.

The dosh du jour, du monde sportif at least, is pouring out of the coffers of Saudi Arabia and the quizzers out there will know that the currency of Saudi is….the riyal.  It’s abbreviated to SAR or SR and is pegged to the US dollar at a constant rate of exchange, according to Wikipedia.  There are, you’ll be interested to learn, 100 halalas to the riyal.  This is the sort of stuff we undoubtedly need to know.

I was disappointed to hear, no, disgusted is a better word, that some spectators booed Harman and made it quite clear that they didn’t want him to win, telling him so in no uncertain terms.  They didn’t know their man because the abuse only fired him up and helped him to the title.  He managed to put his own dampener on the proceedings on a soggy day that was beyond dreich, keeping all would-be challengers at bay.

Justin Thomas, who missed the cut by miles, his game eluding him at the moment, was still glued to the last 36 holes, as a fan and student of the game.  He congratulated “Harm” and his caddy Scott Tway, brother of PGA  champ Bob, on a masterly display of concentration and control, in their own little bubble under the brolly.

Thinking about it, that was spot on.  It wasn’t a day for flamboyant charges, it was a day for grinding out the victory that some outstanding golf earlier in the week had set up.  Many years ago, on a filthy day, probably an Open, Dai, who did leave the press room on occasion, went out to see why Tom Watson was making the game look easy when everybody else was struggling and racking up big numbers.

Our correspondent came back in, soaked and disgruntled (Dai, disgruntled?  Surely not!).  “Boring as hell,” he said.  “Down the middle, on the green, two putts, sometimes one.  Nothing to it.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if the weather is the last thing he thinks of whenever he looks back in years to come.  At the Ryder Cup at the K Club we all spent the week in waterproofs.  They went on before we left the house and came off when we got home but it took the photos to remind me how foul the weather was.  All I remember is the emotion, the excitement, some glorious golf and, of course, Woosie’s mile-wide smile in the warm glow of victory.

Was it wet?  Was the wind a factor?  Oh yes, I suppose it was….

One thing’s for certain:  we’d better be nice to the Open champion in Rome.  He’ll be trying his considerable damnedest anyway but we don’t need to give him an extra edge…

Talking of the Ryder Cup reminds me that this tradition, or whatever it is, of the holders retaining a trophy in the event of a draw/tie/half is beyond nonsensical.  Where on earth does it come from?  Why is it still tolerated?  The defending champions should NOT be given a head start just because they won last time out.

The Ashes probably started it and it’s infected golf – Ryder Cup, Solheim, Curtis, Walker, Vagliano  Trophy, whatever.  It’s just plain wrong.  Bonkers.  Change it at once, please.

That’s the end of the men’s majors until April but the women are in action this week in the Amundi Evian Championship at Evian-les-Bains and The Senior Open is at Royal Porthcawl.  Also, it would be remiss of me not to mention the winners of the Brenda King Foursomes, at Royal St David’s, Harlech.  Many congrats to Whittington Heath’s very own Sue Spencer and  her partner Sally Sketcher, from Trentham.

And welcome home to Ozzy, the bull who was the star of the Birmingham Commonwealth Games, now in residence at New Street station, properly awe-inspiring.