Shock, horror, golf is getting a mention in the blog this week.  Well, the football season is pretty well over and Spurs, who lost a record number of 22 premier league matches (out of 38), still had an OUTSTANDING season, according to our oft-beleaguered manager Ange Postecoglou.  And who’s to argue? A trophy after many years of drought and a place in next season’s Champions League.

But we had a European trophy to show off, so most of us stayed behind to cheer and wave our flags.

It’s the week of unarguably the biggest event in women’s golf:  the US Women’s Open (Presented by Ally) – my brackets, my technical skills don’t rise to the official layout/presentation   and I confess I have no idea how Ally is pronounced or what they do.  Perhaps, if I pay enough attention, I’ll know by the end of the championship.

It’s taking place at Erin Hills in Wisconsin and it promises to be a brute of a test for the world’s best women golfers (Brooks Koepka – remember him? – won the men’s US Open here in 2017).  Unfortunately for the women, their biggest comp is in the same week as the Memorial Tournament (presented by Workday) (my brackets again), at Muirfield Village in Ohio, Jack Nicklaus’s place, featuring defending champion Scottie Scheffler, PGA champion, world No 1…

So, who do you think will get top billing?

Admittedly, scheduling is a nightmare and this clash is not in the same league as the crass decision to hold the championship in 2000 (that was the millennium, if you recall)  in the same week as the Open at St Andrews…

A quarter of a century has passed and I’m still feeling faint, gasping for air, not quite as incandescent as I was at the time but still juggling words like incomprehensible, ridiculous, baffling…

Ah well.

That little rant was unscheduled but obviously some memories run very deep.  On a happier note one of the most embedded is Alison Nicholas’s victory at Pumpkin Ridge in 1997.  It was undoubtedly one of the greatest US major wins by any European golfer, up there with Seve, Sandy, Woosie, Bernhard, Padraig, Rory, anybody you care to mention.  Big Al, barely taller than the trophy (only a slight exaggeration) held off the legendary Nancy Lopez, the huge crowd’s emotional favourite, who was giving her all to win the national title that had always eluded her.  It was gutting for Nancy but glory for Ali.

This week is also a chance to pay tribute to Barbara McIntire, who died earlier this month at the age of 90.  They were well-lived years and in 1956, at the age of 21, Barbara was agonisingly close to becoming the first amateur to win the US Women’s Open.

In the last round at Northland Country Club in Duluth, Minnesota, Barbara finished birdie, par, eagle for a 71, the lowest score of the championship and a total of 302.  She was the leader in the clubhouse until Kathy Cornelius, a 23-year old professional with a baby daughter, matched her.  In the play-off, over 18 holes, it was Mrs Cornelius 75, Miss McIntire 82.

Mark McCormack tried to persuade Barbara to turn professional but she decided to remain amateur and had a career that was beyond distinguished, including as it did two US Women’s Amateur titles (1959 and 1964); a British (1960, at Royal St David’s, beating Phil Garvey, the pride of Baltray, in the final); countless other big titles; numerous Curtis Cup appearances, two as captain; and the Bob Jones Award in 2000.  It’s the highest honour given by the USGA (United States Golf Association) and recognises distinguished sportsmanship in golf.  Recipients include Joe Carr, Arnold Palmer, Maureen Garrett, Michael Bonallack, Tom Watson, P.J. Boatwright and Tiger Woods, to name just a few.

In The Illustrated History of Women’s Golf, Rhonda Glenn wrote this:  “Barbara played the game politely, striding down the fairway with her shoulders braced forward, but she had a truly solid game.  Her wood play was accurate, and she was one of amateur golf’s finest long-iron players.  She owned a precise short game, and few women could play a soft wedge shot more beautifully.

“A dedicated, serious player, Barbara was also a good loser and a sporting winner.  Hers was the old-fashioned deportment that served the game well…”

But be in no doubt, she was a fierce competitor, as was her great friend and business partner Judy Bell, another giant of the game and the first woman to be president of the USGA.  I love this story from Breaking the Mold, Judy’s autobiography, written with Rhonda Glenn.

“In the spring of 1960, I was runner-up to my pal Barbara McIntire in the North & South.  We faced each other in a number of battles over the years…..friendship never got in the way of a good match-play battle.  It’s never who you play, it’s how you play.  You just focused on your own game, which was never hard for either of us.

“In our match, Barbara bucked tradition.  Normally, if your opponent has a very, very short putt, you concede the putt.  Not Barbara.  After I three-putted the first hole from 15 feet, she made me putt a short one, of less than 12 inches in length, on the second green.  I was down in the match on the 12th hole and had another short putt, which Barbara did not concede.

“After I made that one, I turned to her and said, ‘You’ll never die of enlargement of the heart!’

“I lost the match, 3 and 2.”

But they were friends for life – and made friends wherever the game took them.

 

 

We’ve seen the conclusion of the damp PGA Championship at Quail Hollow and world No 1 Scottie Scheffler reigns supreme.  Boy, does he thoroughly deserve his third major title in the space of the last twenty-five months.

I settled down to watch the early starters on the Thursday and was preparing to be amazed and enchanted by the irresistible threeball of Scottie, Rory McIlroy and Xander Schauffele.  Talk about a slow start by the three of them and it became even more pedestrian and uninspiring when the trio all doubled the 16th, their seventh hole of the championship.  Scottie was the most wayward of the three, looking totally out of sorts and at that point he certainly wasn’t shaping up to put a marker down as a potential winner.

But Scottie did what Scottie does and hung around, excelling in damage limitation until his normal, excellent, ball striking decided to put in a reappearance.  One lightning flash of utter brilliance in round three, where he was five under for the last five holes, (which included the renowned and challenging Green Mile, aka the 16th, 17th and 18th holes), was enough to open up a three-shot lead.  Despite being pegged back on the Sunday by Jon Rahm, Scottie smoothly found another gear and romped home by five shots.  It was a consummate professional performance by a player who did not appear to be at his shiny, squeaky best.

That’s a scary prospect for the rest of them.

There was much interest, of course, in the latest newly-minted grand slam champ, Rory McIlroy, who offered up a very lacklustre performance indeed, just making the cut on the number and then languishing well down the leaderboard.  His on-course performance was completely understandable, I felt.  After all, there’s bound to be a monumental reaction to achieving his lifelong dream of winning all four majors.

It appeared, however, that off the course, apart from his pre-tournament conference, we were to be treated to the picture-but-no-sound version of Rory as he spurned talking to the media after each of his four rounds.  I’m afraid this isn’t good enough…..and I’m sure he knows it.  It’s the penalty you pay for living and working in a goldfish bowl, earning millions and millions and being one of the most sought-after athletes on the planet.  Man up, Rory, and get on with it.  (As if he’d listen to the likes of me!)

Now, here’s a quiz question for you all.  As most of you know, Rory McIlroy has just become the sixth player in the history of the game to win the grand slam.  This week David Scott has also become just the sixth member of an elite and exclusive band of golfers – but which one?

I have not met David but hope to do so, sooner or later, on my travels to offer up my heartfelt congratulations on his most recent appointment.  Perhaps I’ll run into him on my visit to St Andrews in July or possibly when at the Open in Portrush.  David, you see, has just been appointed as the Honorary Professional of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews, a position that stretches back over a century and one which you certainly can’t apply for.

It is strictly by invitation only and David becomes just the sixth person to hold the post, following in the footsteps of  Andrew Kirkaldy (1910 – 1934), Willie Auchterlonie (1935 – 1963), Laurie Auchterlonie (1964 – 1987), John Panton (1988 – 2006) and Jim Farmer (2006 – 2024).

The R&A could not have made a better choice, in my opinion.  David is a man of golf, a pro’s pro, born and bred and still living in St Andrews.  He is a Master Professional, the current Captain of the PGA and………Scottish (which I happen to think is quite important).  Quite honestly, if you were to write a list of the qualities required of an incumbent of this post you simply couldn’t come up with a better candidate.  The almost two and a half thousand global members of the club will have no cause to regret their decision, I’m sure.

Wishing you a long and happy tenure, David.

More news this week to inspire and make me smile was word of the magnificent staging of the men’s and women’s G4D (golf for the disabled) Opens at Woburn.  Some of the prize winners are pictured at the top.  Strong fields in each Open battled their way round the narrow, unforgiving Duchess golf course and it tested the skills and resolve of the players to the limit.

In the women’s event Daphne van Houten of the Netherlands played beautifully to retain the title she first won twelve months ago.  Her previous winning experience had helped her, she declared afterwards, as she felt comfortable playing with the pressure of a lead and in front of crowds.  The 26-year old was born with scoliosis and has other health challenges, including dizziness on the course.  She did acknowledge it was sometimes difficult to deal with, proving to be a master of understatement as well as of her clubs.

In the men’s event, Irishman Brendan Lawlor scooped the title with a solid 54-hole total of three over par and he was justifiably proud of himself.  He’s the world No. 3 in the G4D rankings and said, “It feels unbelievable.  I played extremely solid all week. My game is in fantastic shape. It’s such a tight course. You can’t go in trouble and I stayed out of trouble a lot over the three days.  I’m absolutely chuffed.”

You really don’t have to look far in life to find inspiring people and this is especially true at any level in the world of golf.

 

It was, apparently, a dreadful final between two dire teams, albeit with a proud heritage.  Before the match in Bilbao, one of the nephews, a Baggies fan, so not pouring his scorn from a particularly lofty position, sent this sarky message:  Clash of the Titans.

Mock not, replies I, it’s a final.

It wasn’t a beautiful game but for some of us, starved of any sort of trophy for the guts of twenty years and of European success for more than forty, it was a sweet, sweet triumph.  One-nil to the Spurs, a super, scrappy goal just before half-time, scored (or maybe not) by Brennan Johnson, more alert than the Manchester United defence.  Brennan’s our leading scorer this season but I’ve often criticised him – a fan’s prerogative – for being a bit dozy, on the back foot too often.

Not this time.  He was alert and got his reward:  Immortality!  A Spurs legend.

I may have mentioned that this match was Mo’s worst nightmare:  Man Utd-supporting husband (known to swear occasionally when exasperated by his side’s shortcomings) versus Spurs-supporting sister (renowned screecher, pacer and windmill waver of arms with the odd expletive thrown in).    She had contemplated leaving the country but we were booked in with Brian’s sister and her husband for the Cambridge Beer Festival and they’d arranged for us to watch the match at friends of theirs – the right channel and a big telly.

Mo had no confidence in my ability to be a restrained, reasonable guest but our hosts (he’s Celtic and Liverpool; she’s no interest in football) were unfazed, reacted calmly to everything thrown at them and kept the supplies of red wine flowing.  I always feel sorry for the losing finalists, slumped on the turf in tears and I really, really, really did not want that to be us this time.

I’m still in shock I think because I haven’t jumped around like an eejit yet.  I couldn’t be too ecstatic with Brian there (and Mo) and I couldn’t quite believe we’d actually done it, keeping a clean sheet and being tough and ugly rather than Spursy (a bit showy but wimpish and guaranteed to fall short on the big occasion).

Ah well, time enough to do the doolally bit on Sunday, when we play Brighton (who’ll probably beat us) in the last game of the season and we can ignore our league ineptitude and revel in happy players, coaches, other staff and their families parading a big, shiny trophy.  We might even see a smiling chairman (Daniel Levy does a good line in poker faces) because the win means we’re in the Champions’ League next season and although that means tougher matches against the top teams it also means lots of dosh.

This victory gives us welcome bragging rights over deadly rivals and north London neighbours Arsenal and must annoy  them intensely (polite version).   They’ve been much better than us recently but haven’t won anything and we’ve now won four European trophies to their two.  The jokes are already flying about:  On Talksport somebody asked how far away Arsenal are from a European trophy and a caller rang in to say:  “About four miles….”

How lovely that we’ve joined FA Cup winners Crystal Palace (the first big trophy in their entire existence, more than 100 years) and Carabao Cup winners Newcastle United (more than fifty years without a cup of note) on this season’s honours board.  Now, where did we put that silver polish?

All in all then it was a good week.  Our day at the beer festival was sunny and warm but not too hot and we paced ourselves nicely, with more halves than pints.  Some of our choices were more palatable than others but we made sure to make a note of what to avoid in future…

Now, how about some golf?  Well, Mo has that pretty well covered but I noticed that some people seem to have been exercised by golfers losing their temper on the course at the PGA Championship and, shock, horror, swearing.  In case it had escaped your notice, golf itself is a four-letter word – there’s even a book of that name – and it is a game that lends itself to fuss and frustrations.

Admittedly it’s not a good look, having a meltdown or chucking clubs and most of us grow out of it – or learn to control our tantrums – but it’s a bit of a nonsense that broadcasters feel the need to apologise in case their more sensitive viewers have picked up a few unsavoury words via their ubiquitous super-sensitive microphones.

At one Open Championship, at Muirfield, Jose Maria Olazabal was just about in contention with a few holes to play when he hit a shot that scuppered his chances and let loose with some fluent Anglo-Saxon.  Muggins here was despatched to find out what the punishment would be, what was the R&A’s policy on audible obscenity, a la Wimbledon.

Bearing in mind that this was as the championship was coming to a climax and everybody was on high alert, I was lucky to find the urbane George Wilson, deputy secretary of the Royal and Ancient, Michael Bonallack’s right-hand man.  He was much less flustered than I was and, as always, took my enquiry in his stride, saying something to the effect that golf could be a very frustrating game and it was quite understandable if sometimes a fellow just had to let rip, to release the tension.

The perfect answer.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s that time of the week again and boy, does it seem to arrive more quickly than ever.

I’m referring, of course, to blog-writing day which, for me, is a bit of a moveable feast.  As we post on a Friday morning, I generally like to have things done and dusted by Wednesday at the latest.  Sometimes, I attack the writing in two goes, getting half of it splurged onto the page on say, Tuesday, and then returning with hope and inspiration to get me over the line on Wednesday.  Occasionally I write on a Monday and get finished on a Monday – it just all depends…..and very occasionally Thursday is called into play.

Patricia, however, is much more routined and predictable.  Thursday evening at around 10 pm is her “now what will I write about?” moment.  Presumably, a lifetime of writing to deadlines and dealing with changing scenarios has led to her leaving everything to the eleventh hour but hey-ho, horses for courses and all that.

The reason I’m pondering our respective modi operandi is because, amazingly, this week we have clocked up nine years of madillgolf.com.  NINE years!  It’s scarcely believable, but what is even more astonishing is that some of you have been with us from the very start.  Seriously?  Yes.  Seriously.  So, thank you.

While we here in the UK are enjoying gloriously sunny, reminiscent-of-lockdown weather, those in the environs of Quail Hollow in North Carolina, site of this year’s USPGA Championship, have been sloshing their way round a saturated golf course in practice.  No spectators were admitted to the grounds on Monday and the bad news is there is more rain forecast.  The club’s sub-air system will be severely tested if the championship’s organisers, the PGA of America, are to produce the firm, fast-running test they favour.

Soggy conditions always favour the bombers but they also aid the wayward, with crooked tee shots having more than a sporting chance of holding on to the fairways and not running into trouble.  Ditto round the greens.  So, perhaps more than ever, those who bring their putting boots will prosper.

One of the little quirks of the PGA is that the top three players in the world are grouped together for the first two rounds so it’s no surprise that Scottie Scheffler, Rory McIlroy and Xander Schauffele, the defending champ (see the pic at top), tee off together.  Traditionally, this group starts from the 10th tee on Thursday and I remember one year (I think it was at Southern Hills so that would make it 2007) being on duty early doors to commentate on Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson and Adam Scott as they launched their campaigns to annexe a PGA Championship title to their resumes.  At that time they were Nos 1, 2 and 3 in the world respectively.

The 10th tee was a long way from the clubhouse and the players were shuttled out there but lowly commentators like me had to trudge out under their own steam.  When I arrived at the tee there were no spectators to watch this stellar group (it WAS rather early).  There were the three players, three caddies, a sprinkling of officials and me.  Both Phil and Adam came over to shake hands and bid me good morning and I remember having to effect a left-handed handshake with Adam as he had closed his right hand in a car door a few days earlier.  Tiger, of course, stayed in his bubble.

What a treat it was to walk the first nine holes that morning as virtually the only onlooker.  Talk about an unencumbered front row seat!  The usual antipathy between Tiger and Phil was present, bubbling away below the surface;   Adam was consumed with the task of manufacturing a swing and hitting shots that would protect his injured hand;  and Tiger was……..well, getting on and doing his own thing with the blinkers securely on.

Tiger won the championship, his thirteenth major at the age of 31.  It would have been incomprehensible then to think that he would “only” win two more but life never does run smoothly, does it, even for the most gifted?

This year 99 of the 100 top-ranked golfers are playing and it’s the only major in which no amateur can put in an appearance.  Strictly professionals only.  It may surprise many of you to learn that the guy in charge of all this, the Chief Championship Officer for the PGA of America, and the man with the overall responsibility for the course set-up and the running of the championship is an Englishman, Kerry Haigh, who hails from Doncaster.  He is held in the highest esteem by the players for his fairness in his course set-up and his ability to listen to those around him before making balanced decisions.

I met Kerry when we were both in our first jobs post uni.  I was working for a golf promotions company helping organise pro-ams in Spain and Kerry was finding his feet working for the PGA of Great Britain and Ireland.  He used to come out to the Costa del Sol (along with subsequent renowned golf rules guru of the DP World Tour, Andy McFee) and run our pro-ams.

They were great days.  We were young and ambitious and all passionate about golf.  I remember sitting having a coffee with the two of them one morning in Puerto Banus, near Marbella when the conversation turned to where we all saw ourselves in five years’ time.  This would make for a better yarn if I could recall specifics but suffice to say our dreams were generally to forge a path in golf.

We did make an arrangement to meet back at that coffee shop five years hence to review how things were going.  Neither of them turned up…….but neither did I, so I guess that was a full house of no-shows.  I expect life got in the way – forging a path is quite a time-consuming activity.

So, as we enjoy watching this major, do spare a thought for those behind the scenes who meet every challenge head-on and with seriously little sleep.  Perhaps when this week is over we should see about resurrecting that coffee date.  We might be more than forty years behind schedule – but, you know what they say …….

Better late than never.