Sleepless In Lichfield

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?