FULL DISCLOSURE FROM the off: check my Google search history from the day before the Women’s Irish Open and you’ll find the question, ‘What to wear to a golf tournament?’
The 42 was off to The K Club, with an agreed brief for Thursday’s opening round to follow Leona Maguire. When the tee times were published, the lie-in gods had not looked favourably on us; Maguire was handed an 8.18am slot, so an early start on the road was required for your correspondent’s first golf tournament.
Questions about appropriate dress code aside, the sporting preparations for this golfing secondment began long in advance. As a sport, it was never really on my radar before starting in journalism. GAA and football were the main draws in my house growing up, while I also tried my hand at athletics, swimming and tennis, but golf remained an unknown.
Generally, a sport is in a family, or it’s not, and I can’t remember golf being on our television much. The bare essentials were learned through pitch and putt, or crazy golf on holidays, but very basic knowledge wasn’t expanded on until I began covering the sport on occasion.
Still, I’m far from an expert. The Masters is the height of what I’d watch outside a work capacity, unless perhaps if an Irish golfer was in contention on the final day of a tournament. Being from Cavan, a keener eye might be kept on Leona; perhaps it was fitting that I was off to follow her.
Whatever about the intricacies, I also needed to know more about the etiquette. I quickly learned that jeans were frowned upon, and that chinos or ‘performance trousers’ were preferred. With nothing to fit either bracket in my wardrobe, I settled on black pants.
A half-zip top seemed suitably golf-y, but with rain forecast, that particular choice was always likely to be secondary to my trusty black rain jacket. A mental note was made of the umbrella in the boot of the car. Caps seemed popular, so one was thrown into the schoolbag, along with a change of clothes for the journey home.
A bright morning at the K Club proved to be short-lived. Nick Elliott / INPHO
Nick Elliott / INPHO / INPHO
Running out the door at 6.15am, little consideration was given to footwear, however. Weather conditions had somehow left my mind until I realised the toes of my brown, predominantly-suede Adidas Spezials were turning darker with the morning dew in the Straffan field that had been temporarily transformed into a car park. Sure look, they were comfortable enough for walking.
Advertisement
After picking up my school bag from the back seat, I opened the boot, quickly confirming that the umbrella I was so confident that was there was, in fact, not.
Ideal.
With little idea about the logistics of covering golf tournaments, I was glad of the presence of some helpful colleagues, who were also embarking on 18 holes with Leona. The five hours and 15,000 steps that followed were an experience, to say the least.
The first nine holes were thoroughly enjoyable on a dry, white morning. Watching Maguire, Irish amateur Olivia Costello and Singapore’s Shannon Tham up close and personal was fascinating, and gave an even greater appreciation of their exploits. It was peaceful and tranquil, with a small crowd also following them from hole to hole in ideal conditions.
People often say playing golf is therapeutic, and watching it felt that way – embracing The Great Outdoors, shooting the breeze while walking between plays, deathly silence at times, and no phones bar a few attempts to take a few notes here and there.
Across the day, two spectators were left red-faced as their mobiles rang. Forgetting to switch to silent mode is frowned upon, to say the least.
So too is any noise, or even shuffling during shots. The officials holding ‘Please Stand Still’ signs were on the ball, quickly shushing anyone who did otherwise. They took a looser approach with their ‘No Photography’ boards, with fans snapping Maguire et al. freely.
At times, it was hard to keep track of the ball in the translucent, white sky, but as the morning progressed, it got significantly darker. So too did my Adidas Spezials, the feet long wet at this stage.
Leona Maguire got off to a solid start on Thursday before finishing the week in a tie for fourth place. Nick Elliott / INPHO
Nick Elliott / INPHO / INPHO
The first raindrops began to fall on the 18th hole – the group’s ninth of the day – and this was how it would continue. Some people had left their umbrellas in the clubhouse so ran in to get them at the turn. Well for some.
Not bringing a brolly was “a schoolboy error”, I helpfully overheard one spectator tell another. Consider the lesson learned; the hood up, and on we went.
The second half of the round was less fun as the rain got heavier and heavier. All things considered, the golf was still good, but views were obscured by umbrellas, and I was hit by a few to boot.
It could have been much worse, though. “Duck!” Rachel Sheehan of Off The Ball warned at one point, dropping to her hunkers. I belatedly followed suit, unaware of what was going on, to thankfully learn that a wayward ball had landed elsewhere. Phew.
There’s a lot to be said for the safety of the press box at a football match.
Note-taking and leaderboard-following on the phone was greatly restricted due to the rain, but we plodded around the rest of the soggy course and gathered enough observations to write about.
The 42's Emma Duffy and the assembled media speak to Maguire after her round. Nick Elliott / INPHO
Nick Elliott / INPHO / INPHO
With just a coffee on board – another rookie mistake – lunch was demolished before filing copy. While other hardened reporters changed in and out of wet gear, I decided against trekking back to the car to retrieve my change of clothes; it would be a stretch to class the dry tracksuit as chinos or performance trousers, and it may have got a few funny looks. Spare socks alone would have been a blessing, but we powered through until getting back to the car park 12 hours later. Talk about a steep learning curve in uncharted territory.
From the drier surroundings of home, the leaderboard was religiously followed for the rest of the weekend, with RTÉ coverage watched where possible. A rare Sunday afternoon off was spent in front of the television enjoying the final day’s action as South Africa’s Cassandra Alexander went wire to wire.
The dates for the men’s equivalent and Solheim Cup are now circled in the diary, and having threatened to try my hand at playing in recent years, initial research is underway on that front.
To embed this post, copy the code below on your site
Close
4 Comments
This is YOUR comments community. Stay civil, stay constructive, stay on topic.
Please familiarise yourself with our comments policy
here
before taking part.
Rain, etiquette, and 15,000 steps: Getting to grips with my first golf assignment
FULL DISCLOSURE FROM the off: check my Google search history from the day before the Women’s Irish Open and you’ll find the question, ‘What to wear to a golf tournament?’
The 42 was off to The K Club, with an agreed brief for Thursday’s opening round to follow Leona Maguire. When the tee times were published, the lie-in gods had not looked favourably on us; Maguire was handed an 8.18am slot, so an early start on the road was required for your correspondent’s first golf tournament.
Questions about appropriate dress code aside, the sporting preparations for this golfing secondment began long in advance. As a sport, it was never really on my radar before starting in journalism. GAA and football were the main draws in my house growing up, while I also tried my hand at athletics, swimming and tennis, but golf remained an unknown.
Generally, a sport is in a family, or it’s not, and I can’t remember golf being on our television much. The bare essentials were learned through pitch and putt, or crazy golf on holidays, but very basic knowledge wasn’t expanded on until I began covering the sport on occasion.
Still, I’m far from an expert. The Masters is the height of what I’d watch outside a work capacity, unless perhaps if an Irish golfer was in contention on the final day of a tournament. Being from Cavan, a keener eye might be kept on Leona; perhaps it was fitting that I was off to follow her.
Whatever about the intricacies, I also needed to know more about the etiquette. I quickly learned that jeans were frowned upon, and that chinos or ‘performance trousers’ were preferred. With nothing to fit either bracket in my wardrobe, I settled on black pants.
A half-zip top seemed suitably golf-y, but with rain forecast, that particular choice was always likely to be secondary to my trusty black rain jacket. A mental note was made of the umbrella in the boot of the car. Caps seemed popular, so one was thrown into the schoolbag, along with a change of clothes for the journey home.
Running out the door at 6.15am, little consideration was given to footwear, however. Weather conditions had somehow left my mind until I realised the toes of my brown, predominantly-suede Adidas Spezials were turning darker with the morning dew in the Straffan field that had been temporarily transformed into a car park. Sure look, they were comfortable enough for walking.
After picking up my school bag from the back seat, I opened the boot, quickly confirming that the umbrella I was so confident that was there was, in fact, not.
Ideal.
With little idea about the logistics of covering golf tournaments, I was glad of the presence of some helpful colleagues, who were also embarking on 18 holes with Leona. The five hours and 15,000 steps that followed were an experience, to say the least.
The first nine holes were thoroughly enjoyable on a dry, white morning. Watching Maguire, Irish amateur Olivia Costello and Singapore’s Shannon Tham up close and personal was fascinating, and gave an even greater appreciation of their exploits. It was peaceful and tranquil, with a small crowd also following them from hole to hole in ideal conditions.
People often say playing golf is therapeutic, and watching it felt that way – embracing The Great Outdoors, shooting the breeze while walking between plays, deathly silence at times, and no phones bar a few attempts to take a few notes here and there.
Across the day, two spectators were left red-faced as their mobiles rang. Forgetting to switch to silent mode is frowned upon, to say the least.
So too is any noise, or even shuffling during shots. The officials holding ‘Please Stand Still’ signs were on the ball, quickly shushing anyone who did otherwise. They took a looser approach with their ‘No Photography’ boards, with fans snapping Maguire et al. freely.
At times, it was hard to keep track of the ball in the translucent, white sky, but as the morning progressed, it got significantly darker. So too did my Adidas Spezials, the feet long wet at this stage.
The first raindrops began to fall on the 18th hole – the group’s ninth of the day – and this was how it would continue. Some people had left their umbrellas in the clubhouse so ran in to get them at the turn. Well for some.
Not bringing a brolly was “a schoolboy error”, I helpfully overheard one spectator tell another. Consider the lesson learned; the hood up, and on we went.
The second half of the round was less fun as the rain got heavier and heavier. All things considered, the golf was still good, but views were obscured by umbrellas, and I was hit by a few to boot.
It could have been much worse, though. “Duck!” Rachel Sheehan of Off The Ball warned at one point, dropping to her hunkers. I belatedly followed suit, unaware of what was going on, to thankfully learn that a wayward ball had landed elsewhere. Phew.
There’s a lot to be said for the safety of the press box at a football match.
Note-taking and leaderboard-following on the phone was greatly restricted due to the rain, but we plodded around the rest of the soggy course and gathered enough observations to write about.
With just a coffee on board – another rookie mistake – lunch was demolished before filing copy. While other hardened reporters changed in and out of wet gear, I decided against trekking back to the car to retrieve my change of clothes; it would be a stretch to class the dry tracksuit as chinos or performance trousers, and it may have got a few funny looks. Spare socks alone would have been a blessing, but we powered through until getting back to the car park 12 hours later. Talk about a steep learning curve in uncharted territory.
From the drier surroundings of home, the leaderboard was religiously followed for the rest of the weekend, with RTÉ coverage watched where possible. A rare Sunday afternoon off was spent in front of the television enjoying the final day’s action as South Africa’s Cassandra Alexander went wire to wire.
The dates for the men’s equivalent and Solheim Cup are now circled in the diary, and having threatened to try my hand at playing in recent years, initial research is underway on that front.
Indeed, I may have caught the bug.
To embed this post, copy the code below on your site
Golf uncharted territory women's irish open