Dan Murphy's celebration of winter golf
IT'S much-derided, unfair, a lottery and many people consider it simply isn't worth the trouble. But enough about the Fed-Ex Cup. I want to talk to you about winter golf. And specifically, in defence of winter golf. Here are 9 good reasons why it's worth any amount of early-morning phone calls to the pro, extra layers of clothing, damp feet and greens that would shame the average goalmouth.
1 You shouldn't really be playing
Admit it. This time yesterday you'd given up all hope of a weekend game. The rain was siling down and the forecast was for more of the same. But now you're out there. And even though the greens may be sodden and the bunkers have become new water hazards, your six nett five was good enough to win the 12th and you're well on the way to a free lunch. It's a bit like winning a scrum against the head an unexpected pleasure.
2 It's not actually that bad
Sometimes the prospect of doing something is much worse than the reality. Winter golf falls into this category. So it's cold and windy? That's OK. Just wear more clothes and take more club. What do you mean, it hasn't stopped raining for three solid days? What do you think umbrellas and waterproofs are for? Once you're out there you'll enjoy it. Trust me. And even if you don't, just think of it this way. It will be dark by four o'clock which means you can be legitimately in the bar enjoying a well earned pint or two that much earlier.
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Monday, November 27, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Taking a swipe at golfing fashion
STRANGE, scary sights abound on our golf courses. All around the nation are shades the like of which have not been seen for all but 30 years ? and probably shouldn't be for at least another 100.
I'm talking lurid splashes of green. Acres of orange. Oceans of fluorescent pink. And that's just the belts. Golfing fashion, after years, it must be said, in the wilderness, has suddenly burst into life. It's as though we're making up for at least two decades where shoes were black, chinos were beige and it was an offence to sport anything more than a circumspect Lyle and Scott logo on an otherwise virgin jumper of pure navy blue.
Some blame the likes of Ian Poulter and Jesper Parnevik. But wherever I play, the models wearing this array of day-glo colours are more Duffy Waldorf than Camilo Villegas. And that's the point about this fashion craze. It's completely inclusive. It doesn't matter what you look like, how old you are or whether or not the circumference of your waist is threatening that of an average temporary green.
more..
I'm talking lurid splashes of green. Acres of orange. Oceans of fluorescent pink. And that's just the belts. Golfing fashion, after years, it must be said, in the wilderness, has suddenly burst into life. It's as though we're making up for at least two decades where shoes were black, chinos were beige and it was an offence to sport anything more than a circumspect Lyle and Scott logo on an otherwise virgin jumper of pure navy blue.
Some blame the likes of Ian Poulter and Jesper Parnevik. But wherever I play, the models wearing this array of day-glo colours are more Duffy Waldorf than Camilo Villegas. And that's the point about this fashion craze. It's completely inclusive. It doesn't matter what you look like, how old you are or whether or not the circumference of your waist is threatening that of an average temporary green.
more..
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
Seve Ballesteros EXCLUSIVE
IT was the eve of the 133rd Open and the cream of the world's golf media were gathered in a marquee alongside the fairways of Royal Troon, writes Chris Bertram.
The launch of Callaway's latest driver had drawn journalists from ever corner of the golf world under one roof. The scene was, however, not typical of these type of events.
Normally they are fairly routine, staid affairs as small groups of writers discuss the merits of the new equipment they have seen unveiled and, just as likely, where the best restaurant in town is.
This time, though, everyone was gathered in a circle around one individual, forming a kind of human ampitheatre as those furthest away balanced on their toes to catch a glimpse of the figure holding court.
It lasted for around half an hour after which an even more extraordinary scene unfolded. Journalists, supposed hard-nosed, cold-hearted hacks, started to request pictures be taken with the evening's star guest. Not only that they did so with the giddiness of schoolkids surrounding their favourite footballer.
More....
The launch of Callaway's latest driver had drawn journalists from ever corner of the golf world under one roof. The scene was, however, not typical of these type of events.
Normally they are fairly routine, staid affairs as small groups of writers discuss the merits of the new equipment they have seen unveiled and, just as likely, where the best restaurant in town is.
This time, though, everyone was gathered in a circle around one individual, forming a kind of human ampitheatre as those furthest away balanced on their toes to catch a glimpse of the figure holding court.
It lasted for around half an hour after which an even more extraordinary scene unfolded. Journalists, supposed hard-nosed, cold-hearted hacks, started to request pictures be taken with the evening's star guest. Not only that they did so with the giddiness of schoolkids surrounding their favourite footballer.
More....
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