The better half is off motorbiking all over Europe with pals at the moment so I nipped up to the highlands of Scotland to have a bit of R and R with some longstanding friends of my own.  By happy coincidence the Curtis Cup was being played at the amazing Bel-Air in Los Angeles and Suzanne Cadden, Gillian Stewart and I, all former Curtis Cuppers, had a lovely few evenings glued to the box watching the matches unfold.  Admittedly the eight-hour time difference meant we’d a bit of catching up to do in the mornings but it was a wonderful focal point for the start of our week together.

Ah, the Curtis Cup………the vehicle for so many friendships down the years and the 44th playing last week left me inspired and feeling slightly amazed that I should have even the teensiest connection with this incredible event.  At the heels of the hunt the American team triumphed by 13 points to 7, a comfortable enough looking scoreline on paper, but there was a squeaky hour or two for them during the singles when it looked as if the visitors might just possibly cause an upset of epic proportions.

Seven points to five down with the eight singles to be played, GB and I won the opening two matches to level the score with the remarkable Patience Rhodes overturning a four-hole deficit after seven holes in the top match.  Ever resilient, however, the American team dug in, winning all six remaining matches, three of them on the final green and two on the 17th.

Catriona Matthew, the GB and I captain and Meghan Stasi, the American captain had faced each other in the same roles two years ago at Sunningdale and both were rightly proud of their teams.  This time it was Meghan who wore the biggest smile.

“Cannot describe it.  Just so proud of the girls, their fight all week.  It’s just been so much fun to watch the last couple of years and just so proud of them.  What a day.”

And what a week for Farah O’Keefe who clinched the winning point and became just the fourth player to win all five matches since the event went to a three-day affair back in 2008.  She joins Stacy Lewis, Kristen Gillman and Bronte Law in a very select band and my feeling that she (along with a couple of others) might run out of steam after the gruelling test of a US Women’s Open the previous week was unfounded.

Hats off to them all.

The tentacles of the game reach long and far and sometimes into the most unexpected of places when golf is farthest from your mind.  One of the days of our Highland odyssey saw us visiting the delightful little village of Findhorn and our local guide, i.e. Gillian, took us to a coffee place down by the water’s edge.  It was nice enough for us to sit outside so we sent Gill in to grab the refreshment.  It wasn’t coffee she returned with, however, but one of American golf’s most famous names – Charlie Yates.

Charlie’s father, Charlie senior, was a golfer of note, winning the Amateur Championship at Troon as a 25-year old, beating Rosses Point legend Cecil Ewing in the final.   Charlie also played in and captained his country in the Walker Cup and was a good friend of Bobby Jones.  He was involved with Augusta National Golf Club from its early days and was a long-standing member, an association carried on by Yates junior who told us with some pride that he has attended 64 straight Masters tournaments.

Charlie senior enjoyed a great friendship and rivalry with Cecil, Dad’s idol as a young boy and visited the west of Ireland course on many occasions.  Senior was the low amateur in the Masters on five occasions and I met him first through Patricia and my late brother-in-law Dai when Charlie was the main link for all visiting press to the Masters each year.  Indeed he provided the tickets for my first visit to the Masters back in 1991 – the year wee Welshman Ian Woosnam triumphed.

What an unexpected treat to have an “ordinary” coffee turn into an extraordinary meeting like that – and all because of a shared passion for this ridiculous game.

A few days later one of our famous July club members, Sandra Ross, joined us for a wee jaunt and we decided to drop in on a gem of a nine-hole course called Covesea, pronounced Cow-sea, along the coast.  Not even our local Scots had played it – but what a setting!  Stunning golf in the raw and a welcome to boot from Angela Burnett, who with husband Andy spearheads the whole operation, family built and run.  If I were still playing golf this is the sort of place I would return to time and time again.

Realising at this stage that we were only a few miles away from Lossiemouth, I just had to pop in to the Moray golf club where my paternal grandmother, Helen McIsaac, had been a member in her youth before marrying an Irishman and moving to the west coast of Ireland.  Back in the day she was a six-handicapper – a feat I can hardly imagine with the equipment available to her – and I was chuffed to locate the board declaring she was the 1915 Moray Golf Club Ladies’ Champion.

Dad spent many a boyhood summer golfing in Lossie and staying in the family home there and he’d have been delighted we were enjoying the place under cobalt blue skies and, once out of the wind, lovely temperatures.  I’m grateful the girls indulged me with that visit.

Of course, I’d love to still be playing this game and enjoying a few rounds with friends, discovering and playing new little places like Covesea and not just walking around it.  I have, however, come to realise something on this trip.  It is more than possible to enjoy the richness of this game in different ways – and yes, you can take the girl out of golf after a lifetime of involvement, but you can’t take golf out of the girl.

My fears have proved unfounded.

 

You know all that advice about switching off all your devices an hour or two before going to bed?  That includes the television, assorted iPads, laptops, phones and whatever other smart electronic gizmo you may have in your arsenal.  Well, how difficult is that?  Virtually impossible really, especially for a sporting person when there’s so much going on on the other side of the Atlantic.  Even radios have illuminated dials lighting up the darkness.

I’m still struggling to recover from last weekend when I watched Brazil against Morocco (sorry non-footie people, it’s the World Cup, it’s inevitable) about midnight, then went to bed, armed with radio, iPad and phone, to keep tabs on Scotland v Haiti in Boston and the Curtis Cup from deepest Los Angeles.  Not an easy ask, even for an inveterate butterfly mind like mine.  And it became even harder when Scotland went ahead (John McGinn via two deflections), then seemed to be under siege for the rest of the game; there was no relaxing until the ref blew the final whistle and it was still 1-nil to the Tartan Army.

I have it on good authority that when Croatia equalised against England the other night, the roar from the pubs in Inverness could be heard in Glasgow – and vice versa.  Never forget that the late great Denis Law, who won 55 caps for Scotland, took himself off to play golf rather than watch England beat West Germany in the 1966 World Cup final at Wembley.  Denis, winner of the Ballon d’Or in 1964, was a Manchester United teammate of Bobby Charlton and Nobby Stiles (and John Connelly, who didn’t play in the final but was eventually, many years later, awarded a medal retrospectively, as was manager Alf Ramsey, elevated rightly to Sir Alf, when FIFA decided to include all squad members and staff).

If England manage to reach this year’s final, courses everywhere should prepare for an influx of disgruntled Scots – unless they’re in the final too, of course…Either way, defrost the haggis (is the plural haggi?) and crack open the Glenmorangie or similar  – or the Irn-Bru.

To the golf!  It’s the men’s US Open this week, at Shinnecock Hills, Southampton, N.Y.  It’s on Long Island, not quite a links but no trees and tough, tough, tough, with winds that will test the skills, mettle and mental fortitude of the world’s best.  For Scottie Scheffler, the world No 1, it’s his first go at achieving the Grand Slam, that near mythical beast that tied Rory in knots.  Will he do it?  Wouldn’t put it past him but I’d quite like him to take another year or two.

Adam Scott, the elegant Australian with the sweet swing, is playing in his 100th consecutive major championship, an amazing run that has taken him 25 years, a quarter of a century, very neat.  “I’ve never really been one to dwell on milestones,” he said.  “However, it’s resonated a little bit more with me the last few days…I’m so appreciative of everyone recognising this.  It’s a strange one because it’s not something you really set out to do or aim for.

“But in all honesty, since Pinehurst a couple of years ago, it kind of was on my radar.  Earlier this year, as I wasn’t automatically qualified for this event, it became a bit of a weight on my shoulders making sure I got there.”

The 45-year old (46 next month) played in the Open at Shinnecock in 2004 and 2018 and was disappointed not to play well either time.  “I still love the golf course,” he said.  “I think it’s as good as any test we have at the US Open.”  This year, as world No 49, he started with a round of  73, three over par.

We at WHGC have a particular interest in this year’s Open because Michelle Quinlivan, one of our members, is over there working on the range with her husband and various family members.  Michelle’s brother Sean is the head professional at Shinnecock, hence the influx and a memorable, exciting week for them all.  Many thanks for the special pics and fingers crossed that an uneven number of players make the cut because that means Sean will probably play.

Now, what’s the furthest distance you’ve ever run?  A mile, 100 metres, 1500, 10,0oo, a marathon?  I was never much of a runner despite being a member of the team that won the Senior Relay (4 x 100) at the All Ireland Schools Sports in, I think, 1972.  A proud moment indeed.  Many thanks to my three teammates Sheila, Sally and Carol-Anne.  These days, I doubt I’d make it to the park across the road, probably less than 100 metres.  So, how about 100k?

Yes, ONE HUNDRED KILOMETRES.  All in one go, time limit 24 hours.

It’s part of the Threshold Trail Series and is “An Epic Tour of South Downs National Park”.  To quote further:  “The full circuit [you can do a loop as short as 30k], taking in both the Coastal and Castle loops for a magnificent tour of the stunning South Downs National Park.  Steeped in history and uniquely varied, the 100k Non-Stop event at Race to the King offers a course truly fit for royalty.”  It’s actually 103.3km aka 64 miles and who knows if you have enough puff to take in the beauty around you.

The very best of luck to Andy, my first cousin once removed, by marriage, who gave up his tickets for the second test against New Zealand at the Oval, to run.  It’s his hobby, so it’s not for charity, it’s for pleasure…

Bonkers.

Continuing the athletic theme, I’ve just got to finish with one of the best things I’ve heard this week.  It comes from a primary school sports day when someone said to a girl, tall for her age, with long legs:  “I’ll bet you’re good at running.”

Answer:  “I get better every year.”

Oh, where does that insouciant confidence go?