Three questions generally follow when people learn I’m the golf correspondent of the Daily Mail.
Wow, is that as nice a job as it sounds?
What are Tiger and Rory really like?
Need any help carrying your suitcase?
Now yes, for someone who left grammar school with a hopelessly inadequate list of qualifications, I can have no complaints with how my professional life has turned out. OK, it certainly wouldn’t bother me if I never saw Manchester airport again, and I’ve missed rather more family occasions and football matches at Anfield than I would have liked.
But spending most of your career in shorts watching people play golf and then scribbling a few thoughts at the end of each day before retiring to a decent restaurant comes closer than I deserve to a perfect working life.
‘Follow the Sun,’ the mantra of the touring professional, always did sound a better ideal to me than being stuck in an office.
Most weeks bring something to make you feel grateful and privileged. I’m writing this, for example, while getting set for my 32nd Masters. More than seven months of my life spent walking round Augusta National! That’s not bad, is it?
It’s not all gravy, of course. I’ve lost count of the number of American majors that have finished either bang on our midnight final edition deadline or just after it, with the consequent rising levels of stress and angst. Then there was the Ryder Cup at Medinah in 2012. Most golfers regard it as perhaps the most exciting tournament they have witnessed while most golf writers break out into a cold sweat just thinking about that final day, when the narrative shifted so dramatically and early edition copy was rendered next to nonsensical.
My favourite on that score was the 2006 United States Open at Winged Foot, with Colin Montgomerie finally on the brink of a major victory while standing in the middle of the 18th fairway. We were so tight for time I had to write two intros. One began: ‘All those Sundays punctuated with disappointment at the biggest tournaments in the game retreated to the margins yesterday when Colin Montgomerie finally claimed a richly-deserved first major championship.’
The other: ’Colin Montgomerie threw away the US Open in dramatic fashion last night as his list of Sunday nightmares at the majors continued.’
How’s that for a contrast, based on the strength of one or two shots left for him to play? Thank goodness they used the right one, although I do wish they had been able to use the other.
What’s Tiger really like? For a man of obvious intelligence, it’s amazing how he’s never grasped the fact the default position of practically every golf writer is we’d much rather write positively about a player, and particularly someone who has achieved as much as Woods. Will he return and challenge for more majors? We can hope. The game still needs him.
Rory has grasped it. He had plenty of negative publicity during his troubles a couple of years ago but he weighs that against the avalanche of good stuff written about him over the years and acts accordingly. He’d be the first to admit he’s made mistakes along the way but I think the vast majority of people involved in the sport enjoy talking to him and appreciate how generous he is with his time given the demands of being a global superstar.
Pretty much all of the British players are like that. Fair play to all those based in America, who appreciate we’re fighting against deadlines and will go out of their way to help.
From year to year the schedule doesn’t change much, and faraway ports of call have now become familiar over the passage of time. But there’s one event I particularly look forward to that doesn’t involve checking airline schedules or booking hotel rooms and that’s when The Open returns to Royal Liverpool at Hoylake and the area I call home.
In 2006 it was positively surreal to drop the two kids off at St Peter’s Primary school in Heswall and wander off to the biggest tournament in the game.
In 2014 there was no heatwave but the crowds were massive and good natured, and Rory McIlroy was very much the people’s champion. Again the tournament brought tens of millions of pounds into the local economy and showed off Wirral to the world.
And then all too soon the circus moves on and the wanderlust returns. Back to America and beyond.
But a week in my own bed with just a 15 minute drive each day to the sport’s showpiece occasion?
That’s my very own Open dividend.
To find out more about Royal Liverpool Golf Club at Hoylake click or tap here.
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