The tour de force that is Mary McKenna, Irish golfing legend and all-round good egg, has departed these shores and is now back in Ireland, cameras at the ready to capture more glorious spring and summer snaps.  We’re very happy she accepted the role of the blog’s chief photographer (unpaid position, of course) ten years ago at the inception of these ramblings.

We did spend a lovely weekend in Lichfield with the sister – well, MOST of it was lovely.  We had a stressful time listening to the radio, exhausting every ounce of willpower in order to get Spurs over the line for their first victory this year.  For a spell of a handful of minutes it looked like Tottenham would make up a couple of much-needed points on West Ham but a late goal put paid to that.  As Patricia says, “It’s the hope that kills you.”

Quelle relief when the final whistle blew.  And Mary doesn’t even like football.

There’s no doubt there’s one family in the golfing world that is, well, on top of the world just now – and that’s the Fitzpatricks.  Matt, multiple winner on the PGA tour this year and No 3, partnered with little bro, Alex, who won his maiden DP World tour title in India at the start of the month, to snatch the Zurich Classic of New Orleans title with a last-gasp birdie at the 72nd hole.  Mum and Dad were on hand to witness it all and to see their younger boy gain his PGA tour card and exempt status through to the end of 2028.

This is the stuff of dreams by anyone’s standards and it was the feel-good story of the week without a shadow of a doubt.  To share it with the whole family must have been joyous for all of them.

Alas, it seems that the opportunities for this sort of springboard in the world of golf are lessening.  There was plenty of news during the week to spark speculation and conjecture about the direction and future of various tours.  The PGA Tour have, as expected, dropped their opening two events in January 2027 in Hawaii and under the stewardship of Brian Rolapp, the new commissioner, sorry, chief executive, we are likely to see a shorter, consolidated schedule with limited fields and no cut.  Apparently, it’s all in the name of getting the best players in the world to play against each other more often.

I don’t find anything that is being promised remotely attractive.  Smaller fields and no cut is limiting, limiting, limiting.  The more open golf is, the healthier it’ll be.  Removing full fields and the cut takes away any jeopardy for the players who are having an off week – they’re going to get a hefty cheque no matter how they play.  I like seeing unknown players excel – we could witness a life-changing moment for them (as we did with Alex Fitzpatrick) which is something that draws in all sports fans.

The top stars will always wish to be in charge of their own schedules and they will ink the majors (none of which the PGA Tour controls) into their diaries first and foremost.  After that they will decide on where they’ll play.  With the prizemoney on the PGA Tour so elevated now and with the fields shrinking, stagnation beckons.

There has also been speculation swirling around the LIV Golf Tour and its ability to survive beyond the end of this year.  It’s reported that PIF, who have sunk $5 billion into the league, are withdrawing their support and now outside funding is being sought for future years.  How this year pans out for the players will be more than a little interesting.  Those whose contracts come to an end may well be seeking a route back to the conventional golfing landscape while those with ongoing contracts might find themselves with nowhere to play.

Perhaps we’re about to seriously enter the era of the Youtube Golf Tour.  (Yes, it’s already a bit of a thing!)

I’m a bit depressed at the moment about the women’s game, the coverage it receives and its future – as are some of the blog’s correspondents.  There’s either poor coverage or too little coverage.  I don’t have the answers to the perennial questions of how to secure sponsorship to the value needed to provide a top-class event with a captivating broadcast.  The first major of the year, the Chevron Championship should have provided all we wanted – but it was frankly quite unexciting and I was channel-hopping to find the Fitzpatrick brothers instead.

Nelly Korda, supreme athlete and wonderful golfer that she is, always looks as if she’d quite like to be somewhere else.  Korda won her third major and in the process recaptured her place at the summit of the world rankings.  Mind you, the sparse crowds didn’t help, but why is women’s golf not forging onwards and upwards in this era of genuine and burgeoning interest in all sorts of women’s sports?  The answer to that question seems to elude better brains than mine.

Meanwhile, I suppose I’ll just have to cross my fingers and carry on dreaming of a female Seve appearing on the scene to provide that extra something that might just pull the crowds in.  Goodness knows, the players deserve it.

The good thing – one of the many – about having a sister who writes about golf and does the heavy lifting is that it leaves me free to meander any and every which way.

At the moment I’m re-arranging the shed, a classic blog-avoidance strategy.  It’s not a big shed and it doesn’t have an awful lot in it but it’s amazing what odds and sods emerge from dark, cobweb-strewn corners as the spiders scuttle off in alarm and annoyance.

There’s a table in there – it used to be very smart and sparkling  but over time it’s moved down in the world and is now a bit wet and grubby from its years as a dumping ground for pots and assorted garden junk; at least it’s still very useful and is being remembered for its heyday.

There’s also an old cupboard – minus its doors now – that was made by a friend’s husband and is still much treasured and serves as a wee memorial to him, even though he was a Liverpool fan…He made it to measure for a spot in our old house and it works very well as shelving for extra logs, the fermenting bokashi bin, garden hose, spare tiles and sundry other bits and pieces.  Thank you Mick.

I was interested to read that Justin Rose was putting a new set of clubs in to play at the Cadillac Championship at Doral, over the famed and once ferocious Blue Monster course.  It probably still is a fearsome test but it’s a while since the PGA Tour has been there and the venue’s official title is now Trump National Doral, being part of the Donald’s portfolio.

Many years ago I had one of my best-ever – and most expensive – pedicures at Doral and it was worth every cent.  Sadly, I hadn’t the nerve to put it on expenses.  It was there that I was watching Greg Norman, pretty well in his pomp, playing the last and overheard two old dolls, blue-rinsed, immaculately clad, with painted toenails to rival mine, being classically pass-remarkable:  “I’ve always liked Greg,” one of them said.  “He’s got such a great pair of buns.”

Well, golf never has been just about 5-irons to five feet…..

Thank goodness.

Back to Justin.  He’s now the main face (along with brand ambassadors Michelle Wie West and Ian Poulter) of McLaren Golf and has been very involved in the development of the clubs.  Precision engineering is a large part of McLaren’s game and Zak Brown, the CEO of McLaren Racing and Lando Norris, the reigning F1 world champion, are both golf nuts, so why not diversify?  As Jack Rix, of Top Gear, cracked:  all the company needs to do now is design a McLaren you can fit the clubs in….

It remains to be seen how well the experiment works and whether it gives Justin the extra edge he needs to win another major.  Even if it takes until next April to sort things out, everybody’ll be delighted:  orange and green co-existing happily, wonderful, a dream come true.

I remember, years ago (isn’t everything?), Ian Woosnam turned up at the Australian Open with a new set of clubs – Marumans I think – and couldn’t get on with them at all, for whatever reason.  Perhaps his involvement in the research and development had been minimal, who knows?  The clubs didn’t last the week because Woosie went in to the pro’s shop at Royal Sydney and bought a set of the clubs he used to play.  It didn’t remain a secret for long!

Did he win?  Did he even make the cut?  No idea, I can’t even remember the year, though Woosie was one of the best players in the world at the time.  A bit of diligent research might reveal all but it’s getting late and my reliable resources are limited; there’s no room for archives here and Wikipedia, useful though it is, has its limitations.  Chat bots?  Aaaagh.  Too dangerous for me.

Back at Doral, Justin started with a double bogey seven at the 1st, then had three birdies in four holes before another double bogey seven, at the 8th.  He finished with a 74, two over par but this is one of those so-called signature events and there’s no cut, so the new irons will continue to be properly tested in competition on a proper golf course.  Wonder if the timings will allow Justin to attend the Miami Grand Prix in person?  Presumably the golf won’t want to clash with the cars.

Talking of cars, well,  motorised vehicles anyway, Maureen, Mary McKenna and I took a couple of buggies to tour the humps and hollows of Whittington Heath last week – to see what they could remember of the course (the visitors, not the buggies).  They had a bit of trouble working things out because the HS2 railway works had them a little discombobulated (join the club) but it was a nice day and we enjoyed the ride – until there was a plaintive cry from Mo:  “I think I’m running out of juice…”

We decided on the shortest route back to the clubhouse but it was over rough terrain and Mo conked out some way from home.  Mary and I motored on to summon help and Jordan, a reassuringly large presence in the pro’s shop, came to the rescue.  He had some very promising results in the long-driving (strato) sphere until a dodgy knee intervened but he was just the man to help us in our hour of need.  Many thanks, Jordan.  Hope there were no ill effects.

The pictures tell the story.

Allow me to begin this week’s blog with a little housekeeping and tidying up of results of significant events we touched upon a couple of weeks back, BRSM – Before Rory’s Second Masters.

The first of these was the Roehampton Gold Cup which celebrated its centenary two weekends ago and, to all intents and purposes, the Roehampton Club did itself proud.  Caroline Scallon of the host club and friend and provider of news of the event sent me the following synopsis:-

“The Pro-Am went well on Friday on a decent warm and dry day.  Good time had by all and our visiting professionals so pleased to catch up with each other again.

The Gold Cup was less fortunate with the weather which was cold – with about an hour of rain and strengthening wind from 0900.  But everyone cold, wind tricky and greens fast – about 10.6.”

There’s no doubt that 36 holes in those conditions was a stern test, one which newly-minted professional Luca Thompson took in her stride.  Scores of 73 and 74 for a 147 total gave her a two-stroke victory over Annabel Fuller and Lauren Horsford and perhaps most importantly, her first win as a professional.  This is a very encouraging start for the 2025 Welsh champion whose Dad, Zac, is a PGA professional and former coach to Ian Poulter.  Shortly after the above photograph was taken Luca made a mad dash to Heathrow to catch a flight to Johannesburg to play in the Ladies’ European Tour event there.

It’ll be fun following her career.

Almost, but not quite, overshadowing the Gold Cup itself was the very special past players’ lunch with guest of honour, Scottish legend, Belle Robertson (above in the front row, third from left) celebrating her ninetieth birthday that very same day.  The club presented her with a beautiful birthday cake and Belle presented back to the club her winning prize in 1978 of a pewter claret jug, which now resides in one of the club’s memorabilia displays.

Although she would deny it Belle is a bit of a mentor to Bob MacIntyre and has played a fair bit of golf with him.  Her interest in the game is as keen as ever and, from what I hear, her skills are still pretty sharp.

From one successful Scot taking centre stage at Roehampton, let’s take a jump to yet more successful Scots who this year hoisted aloft the Mary McKenna Salver at Royal Portrush.  This was the 25th playing of a Senior Women’s International match between Scotland and Ireland and it was only the third occasion on which the visitors had won away from home.  Seems to me like the Irish hospitality was more than generous!

Shortly after her visit to Portrush the Irish golfing legend that is McKenna boarded a flight from Dublin and landed with quite a thump at Liverpool airport in order to spend a week with me and catch up on a few more pals.

We reunited with her 1974 Curtis Cup teammate, Mo Richmond (nee Walker) who had cycled the 15 miles or so to our appointed lunch meeting place.  With golf thin on all our agendas these days, Mary and I were very interested to hear that Mo had taken up sketching in her spare time, particularly in the winter.  She professed to be not particularly good at it and it took a good deal of pressing before she reluctantly showed us, on her phone, a few of her efforts.

Wow!  They were great!  And what was even more amazing, she was using some of Mary’s wonderful photographs as her subjects.  Partners in golf, partners in photography and sketching.  The connection is never lost.

Over the next few days we ventured into Wales, the land of the dragon, spending a lovely afternoon in Wrexham golf club with Pam Valentine and Lesley Brown, companions in our group at the last Curtis Cup at Sunningdale.  That last time the four of us had been together we had had to evacuate our hotel in Egham with fire alarms blaring, but with a conspicuous lack of  fire engines or, thankfully, fire.  This was a much more peaceful reunion.

With the weather set fair for our whole week and with beautiful sunny skies overhead, we simply had to turn westwards and head towards Harlech to visit Jill and Alan Edwards.  It’s arguably the most scenic spot in the country, even on the bleakest of days but it was perfectly idyllic for our trip.

There’s not much in golf that Jill hasn’t achieved – either on the playing or administrative side.  Champion of her country, captain of various international teams, including British & Irish ones, and chairman and selector at the highest of levels all added up to being awarded an MBE for her services to the sport.  Thoroughly deserved.

Meandering around the place with the mighty Mary McKenna is a total treat.  She’s like a bottle of tonic for everyone we visit and it struck me yet again how fortunate I am to know and count all these amazing people as my friends.

Next stop Lichfield, the Three Spires and one very resigned Spurs fan.

Visitors, important visitors, are coming to stay with me in Lichfield this weekend, so, of course, as usual, the place is in disarray and I’m beginning to panic.  Earlier in the week, I was calm and relaxed enough to think that I had several days to get ready, even allowing for golf on Tuesday.  No sweat.  Now, with barely half a day left and a blog to do, there’s a hint of perspiration and more than a whiff of panic.

In a way, however, I’m exaggerating because my visitors won’t be arriving with a series of checklists and malice aforethought like the people on that horrible tv programme where they look under beds, slide fingers along picture frames and examine the loo forensically.  One is the sister, who’s used to the chaos and the other is honoured guest Mary McKenna, who’s a very relaxed host(ess) (don’t know the accepted form nowadays) and will I’m sure be happy enough if she can see a clear path to her bed and the bathroom.  Fingers crossed I can at least manage that.

At the time of writing the landing – a small space but mine own – is acting as a storage overflow, cluttered (there’s that word again) with stuff that’s waiting to be sorted and, possibly, dispensed with.  Let me put it this way:  when I have ceased to be, no one, absolutely no one will be keeping this stuff, so why, oh why am I?

On closer inspection, it’s probably another exaggeration to say that it’s all junk, of no worth whatsoever but what to do with it is the big conundrum.  That’s why it’s still hanging about being of no use in particular, waiting for me to make a decision.

There’s a photo of Dai with Jose Maria Olazabal talking to him just before his comeback from a crippling foot/back problem.  It’s signed but the message has faded and is barely visible:  “To my dear friend Day, with my best appreciation….”  At least I think that’s what it says but the signature is quite clear.

There’s also a frame with a couple of photos (no signatures) of Harry Vardon playing an exhibition game at Rhyl in 1908.  Vardon was six down after the first 18 holes but in the afternoon showed everybody why he ended up with six Open Championships and one US Open title, holing a monster putt to win on the 36th.  His opponent was Rhyl’s professional Ted Matthews, a Midlander who later spent many years at Walmley.

Ted, father of our great friend Harry, was an excellent player but told Dai’s father Rod, who wrote for the Birmingham Evening News, “I soon realised that I was going to be a club professional, not a tournament player.  I actually lost that match when Vardon holed a 15-yarder at the last but I virtually lost the match at the 1st in the afternoon.  I hit the ball so hard that I finished in the humps and hollows beyond the fairway.  Vardon won that hole and set out to beat me.”

And there’s a slightly tatty head cover from the US Open of 1986, at Shinnecock Hills, this year’s venue.  Raymond Floyd won, in the days of persimmon drivers with tiny heads.  Not only did the pros use them but so did we!!!  How on earth did we manage?

For a blast from the past, Floyd won by two shots from Lanny Wadkins and Chip Beck, with Lee Trevino and Hal Sutton a shot further back.  They were a shot ahead of Ben Crenshaw and Payne Stewart, one ahead of Jack Nicklaus, Bernhard Langer, Mark McCumber and Bob Tway.

Mention of Sutton reminds me that he remains my all-time favourite US Ryder Cup captain.  He was in charge at Oakland Hills in 2004 and was flamboyantly Texan – and completely outplayed by his opposite number, the cool calm and collected Bernhard Langer.  Europe won by 18 1/2 points to 9 1/2 and won every session bar one.  Blissful.  In my pile of “junk” I discovered a media bib signed by the European team.

Talking of the Ryder Cup, tickets go on sale in Ireland today (Friday).  A weekly general admission ticket (Tuesday to Sunday) is just shy of 2,000 Euro (1,999) and a match day ticket (Friday to Sunday) is 499.  Prices have been hiked substantially since Rome but as the people in charge pointed out that was four years ago and a lot has happened since then, with nothing getting any cheaper.

That explanation hasn’t stopped punters calling it greed and suggesting that ROI (Republic of Ireland) stands for Rip Off Ireland.  I suppose the main lesson is that if you want to go to a home Ryder Cup, it’s best to have a four-year savings plan because you’ll have to factor in travel and accommodation as well as tickets, meals and so on.  If you want to go to America?  Save harder.  And if you want to go to the football World Cup this summer, it sounds as though you have’ll to sell your worldly possessions.

On a happier note, a week or so ago Luke Donald and his wife Diane took the Ryder Cup to Limerick for an outing with local school children.  It was their first official visit to Adare Manor in the run-up to the big event next year.  Edoardo Molinari, the king of stats, the first vice captain to be named, also made the trip to inspect the golf course and some of the team spaces.  The defence begins.