Tour to Ireland 2002

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Day 1
DOOKS 2002
The adventure begins
By Ray Carter

From all over the country Northumberland golfers began their pilgrimage to the links of the West Coast of Ireland. Captain Mike Horgan travelled up to Stanstead over night and was tucked up in a local hotel. Huggy Brown had flown in from Scotland. The advance party were already in place; Jeff Oliver, Simon Cliffe and Richard Blake were sent on a day early and news filtering back was positive: favourable words were spoken of the Hotel; the Guinness was good; the weather suspect.
Drama at the airport...One of our stars was missing! Big Jamie Constable, an outside bet for a Major, was absent, unconfirmed reports which had Jamie in the north of England, Leeds and Bradford were mentioned in despatches.
Proud as they come, Captain Mike Horgan led his troops through customs and onto the plane. The only thing we had to declare was Reg Marsh’s golf swing and Colin Allott’s old golf jacket.

Soon the Northumberland party was in Ireland. Contact was made with Jamie, and he was on his way in from Leeds airport. Waiting for us at the airport was a man who was to become a pivotal figure over the next four days; Rory O,Connor, driver, fixer, and all-round good guy, was to become our local hero. Jamie Constable became our first Irish fool, by flying into Dublin, over 4 hours away, by cab. Jamie’s chance of becoming Northumberland Open Champion 2002 was gone, along with plenty of his cash, and the golf had not even started.

So, one down already, it was off to Dooks.

Who would become the Duke, and the First member of our Royal Family? The skies were dark, and the one thing we feared was with us - Rain! Dooks looked a typical links course with some outstanding holes; Unfortunately the incessant rain made it a battle of survival. The skies around the mountains were awesomely dark as our soaked heroes plugged away. Those with glasses found it almost impossible cope as the rain drove into their faces. But, as always, out of adversity comes triumph. On this auspicious occasion it was Danny Nuttall scoring 31 points pipping roommate Ray Carter by a soggy point.

Daniel Nuttall - The Duke of Dooks

Danny became the first player to be inducted into the Northumberland Royal family. It had all began with a bizarre incident on the first tee; the starter was an RAC fanatic. He wanted Dan’s RAC umbrella, and was going to do anything to get it. This guy was a little scary (in a loony kind of way), and Dan was happy to swap umbrellas and get away. Once the starter had got his hands on Dan’s Umbrella he shut up his booth and disappeared. Strange!

Almost the entire round was played in the rain; a mild breeze kept the afternoon cold and foreboding. I was grouped with Richard Blake, Jeff Oliver & Graham Mann, A fine body of men. We kept our spirits up throughout the day with a laugh, despite Jeff Oliver being as down as Marc Bolan when his wife said, “Fancy going out for a drive?”. Hats off to Graham Mann, who through the storm stoically stuck to his game plan and pre-shot routine; it takes more than being soaked to the skin, cold, tired and plenty of searching in the rough to disrupt Graham.

I remember the final hole; after the drive I was alone. Jeff & Graham put their tee shots into the adjacent farm and headed for the dry and warmth of the clubhouse. Blakie launched his over the hedge on the other side, and headed off as well. After three solid three woods up the hill into the driving wind & rain, the green was still out of sight. A seven iron over a huge hedge and hill did the trick, followed by a putt and we were done. Thank God!

Back in the clubhouse I find old pal Danny Nuttall had pipped me by a point; not to worry, many chances to come. Rain-Man Mike Horgan was excluded from the circle as we all joined hands and prayed for decent weather for the next day.

Danny Nuttall 30
Ray Carter 29
Stuart Burrell 27
Ian Hixon 26
Mike Horgan 25
Reg Marsh 25
Richard Blake 24
Colin Allott 23
Graham Mann 23
Mike Allen 22
Huggy Brown 20
Dave Allen 19
Jim O’Donnell 19
Simon Cliffe 18
Duncan Lloyd 16
Jeff Oliver 12
Mark Pilbeam 10
Steve Allen 7

Day 2
BALLYBUNNION
By Huggy Brown
If the golf was to the foremost challenge of the weekend the logistics of getting 19 people, each in a different state of disarray, onto a bus, early in the morning, was not far behind. Consequently, it was some 30 minutes after the expected 8.15 departure time that the Northumberland Golf Society from England, managed to get themselves onto a bus made in Germany, driven by a Irishman and set off in the direction of Ballybunion Golf course.
Any thoughts of a leisurely drive followed by a suitable period for acclimatization were quickly dispelled when Rory (our driver) announced that due to our late departure it would be touch and go if we made it at all, but he would do his best. His best, as it turned out, involved calling upon experience gained in a former existence driving the Denver Stage, passing, tractors, JCB’s and small family saloons on blind bends, in a coach with a trailer on the back, at 50 mph, held few terrors for him, but plenty for anyone stupid enough to look out of the front window.
The only respite from this death ride came when out of the blue, Hicky made a sudden request to stop at a Pharmacy. Immediate thoughts turned to a bout of dyspepsia caused by the half pint of Cream Soda he had consumed the night before or a past the sell by date scoop of marmalade he had put on his harvest grain toast earlier in the morning. No, Hicky was in need of a pair of nail clippers. Ever the consummate professional he was clearly worried about how a pair of poorly manicured hands would look in the presentation photos as he lifted the cup, for yet another major.
Back on the bus a miracle had taken place, Rory had calmed down. Consequently, the rest of the journey passed uneventfully, but as we swept into the impressive forecourt to Ballybunion Golf Club the sight of an apoplectic starter jumping up and down confirmed we had indeed cut things rather fine.
Veni Vidi Vici was not a phrase that may people found easy to say about Ballybunion or indeed 12 hours later in Scruffy’s bar in down town Killarney. But after the drenching of the previous day it was a blessed relief to see the sun appearing as we assembled at the start to take on one of the foremost challenges in golf.
Apart from the magnificent clubhouse, the second thing that catches your attention as you approach the course is the rather unusual feature to the right of the first tee, namely a graveyard. Not an encouraging omen as you stand nervously over your ball waiting to tee off. One wonders in what direction PB would have had had to aim to be absolutely certain of not leaving his ball stone dead.

So it came to pass that about 5 minutes after our allotted time the first group set off to take on everything the mighty Ballybunion could throw at them. What more can I say about the course that has not already been said. Every hole was a challenge, every hole was different and one mistake at any stage left you in more trouble than an estate agent with the Dome on his books.

I was playing in the second group with the golfing metronome otherwise known as Stuart Burell, Ironman Blake and Reg complete with new driver. It seemed that Reg had followed the principle employed to preserve conkers and seeped half a melon in vinegar for 10 days, then baked it at regulo 5 for six hours before welding it to the end of a 3 foot length of steel piping. The result was a fearsome piece of equipment that had the potential to actually project not only the ball, but Reg himself half way down the fairway, if he, either failed to complete his follow through or did not have the presence of mind to let go of the club.

In the company of this fine band of men I set off full of optimism. The front 9 is allegedly easier than the back because it is not so exposed to the elements. This may be so but while the back nine follows the contours of the Atlantic ocean the front nine follows the main road into Ballybunion town centre and is populated by row upon row of neat bungalows resplendent with epigraphs such as Dunromin in gaelic. It was into this tranquil scene that Reg Marsh appeared still determined to get the better of Melon One.

After several indifferent shots from his playing companions Reg strode on to the tee. His eyes had the steely determination of a man who was not going to be beaten by a mere piece of golfing equipment, however unusual. Reg followed his normal routine with deliberate precision and threw himself through the ball with the arc of a diver. Fortunately, the owners of number 42 Seaview avenue were either inside terrified to come out or even better, doing their weekly shopping, because the next sound was the tinkling of a smashed tile and a pained howl from our errant golfer. Hole 3 to melon One.
As the Carpenters used to say ‘One more round for experience and on the road again’. Reg reloaded and as so often happens hit a creamer right up the middle. It’s a funny old game.
Apart from the odd flash of brilliance the standard of golf up until this point had not been out of the top drawer and it did not get much better. So as we stood on the 10th tee Blakie decided it was time for a team talk. He pronounced that what we all needed was more focus with me in particular requiring extra focus!. I pointed out to Blakie that if I had to give it extra focus that would become the norm and how would I then raise my game after that. He said I would just have to use extra extra focus but added reassuringly that he did not think it would come to that.

He then suggested that we should split into pairs and have a match play with the losers buying the beers. Oddly enough this seemed to do the trick because suddenly, we all started playing much better. In fact the only ugly moment occurred when Reg started taking some pictures of my back swing which unbeknown to me generally resembles a man standing in a field demonstrating how a lightening conductor works.

It was pleasing that the golf improved because the final holes almost defy description in terms of scenic grandeur and dramatic impact. Most ordinary tennis players can never play at Wimbledon, ordinary cricketers will never play at Lords but golfers good and bad, can tread the hallowed turf that has absorbed the foot prints of their childhood hero’s. Ballybunion is one such field of dreams and as we made our way back to the club house I was deeply conscious that I was experiencing one of those magical afternoon’s when all is right with the world and there is no real need to say anything further.

For the record Stuart and I clinched the match at the 17th after someone had produced a calculator to add up the scores. For the record extra extra focus had not been required. With the pressure off I promptly heeled my drive onto the ladies tee at the 18th and I think someone found the bunker so not a grandstand finish, this was to come some 20 minutes later. In the meantime all that was left was for us to shake hands, pay off the caddies and head for the bar.

Fast forward 10 minutes if you will. We are now sitting in four comfortable seats overlooking the 18th green with a cool pint of draught Guinness and Balkie says to Stuart. “You were lucky “. “ That young lad of yours was a great caddie, he had a good sense of humour, always found your ball, and gave the the right line on all your puts”. “The bloke I had was crap “. The metronome took a sip of his beer and with a smug smile said “yes, I though he was well worth 25 Euro’s”. Reg ever alert interjected “How much”. “ 25 “ said Stuart. Reg then said to Blakie “ How much did you give him”. Blakie replied “I gave him 50, 19 for the caddie fee and a 30 Euro tip”. “What” said Stuart “ That means I only gave my lad a 6 Euro tip “. I should say at this point 6 Euro’s are about £3.75 and Stuart’s caddie had just spent the best part of 5 hours carrying a weight equivalent to 14 bags of sugar a distance of some 8 miles in temperatures bordering on 80 degrees. If you ever wondered how some of the people can afford top of the range sports cars and belong to Foxhills now you know.
To be fair, Stuart was mortified and immediately dashed off to see if he could find the young Padraig. Unfortunately, he had already left, probably to see if the O’Malley brothers were free to take out a contract on a tight fisted Englishman. Just to be on the safe side Stuart wore his full waterproofs with the hood up when he ventured onto the golf course at Tralee the following day.
Anyway, back to the drama, and what could be more dramatic than our very own ‘ Monty’, Mike Horgan, standing on the 18th tee with yet another chance to win his first major. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite clear cut, as he had ‘I can’t stop winning Hixon’ and ‘ Reliable Ray ’ on the same number of points.

History will record that whatever Ray or Mike came up with, it would not have been enough because Hicky pulled a drive into the dunes,

but for the second hole in succession hit a miraculous iron onto the green and nailed the put for a birdie. Job done!. Despite the circumstances surrounding the finish Ian had obviously played some magnificent golf and was without doubt a worthy winner. All that remained was to sink a few more beers, try to avoid falling over the balcony in the photo shoot, dress last placed Jeff Oliver like an alien with some joke shop ears and bid farewell to a marvellous venue.

It was with much bonhomie and jollity that the party funnelled back to the car park ,only to have the level ratcheted up even further, by the sight of Jeff Oliver supervising the loading of his clubs into a completely different coach. Having placated the driver, who then had to remove several items of luggage to get his clubs out again, Jeff returned to the group just in time to lead the sing song, on the way home. This was a rousing experience with of all people ‘The Chancellor’, emerging from the propensity of one verse wonders to favour us all with some timeless classics by Lynard Skynard.

Just in case anyone was thinking there had not been enough activity in the day. On our return to the hotel, Reg and I accepted a challenge from Graham and Ray to 3 sets of tennis. We had all brought our own rackets as we were worried that as were travelling to Ireland on a cut price airline we might have to serve ourselves. With regard to the tennis Reg and I wiped the floor with Graham and Ray 6-1, 6-1. Having won the match we were then generous enough to let them have a set to avoid complete demoralisation.

This extra activity, left just enough time for a shower, then it was back into town for a gastronomic meal washed down with as many pints as possible, until it was time to fall over, and so finished day 2 of the holiday. Other people will be providing reports, covering the rest of the trip, so it only remains for me to leave you with a few words by way of an epilogue. Which although written with mountaineers in mind could equally apply to golfers:

The direction of human striving, in full conscientiousness of tragedy, futility and failure is still upwards in hope.

Ian Hixon 31
Mike Horgan 30
Ray Carter 28
Danny Nuttall 26
Richard Blake 26
Stuart Burrell 26
Mike Allen 23
Dave Allen 22
Simon Cliffe 22
Graham Mann 21
Jamie Constable 19
Mark Pilbeam 19
Huggy Brown 18
Reg Marsh 17
Colin Allott 16
Jeff Oliver 13
Jim O’Donnell 13
Duncan Lloyd 12*
Steve Allen 12
* retired hurt

Day 3
Tralee
The adventure continues apace By Ray Carter

On day 3 we were facing a new hazard, fatigue. After the rain at Dooks and the sheer difficulty of Ballybunion tiredness was creeping in, those who had burnt the candle at both ends were beginning to wilt. The 12 noon tee time allowed the sensible brigade to have a lay in. However,as was becoming the norm, getting all 19 golfing legends on a coach on time was proving our biggest challenge. As we pulled away from the hotel, it was confirmed, the Lloyd elbow had not recovered and Duncan was not amongst us. As always “one mans ceiling is another mans floor” and in stepped driver Rory “pass em on the inside” McGarth
Everything we read spoke about the toughness of the back nine at Tralee, we were itching for the challenge. The dark skies were back and the chancellor launched us on the way with a nine inch drive.

Fantastic, another truly superb course. The weather was improving, the news filtering around the course was that the Duke was on fire, Burrell and Carter nowhere, The King of the Coast was struggling, Jeff Oliver’s lowly position was not improving and Back at the hotel Duncan was up out of bed.
Whenever Stuart Burrell reflects on this tour, he knows his 2nd shot to the 10th was a turning point and one of the best of his life. A high 225 yd three wood into the wind Pitched on the green, checked and rolled up to the pin, in went the Birdie Putt, and Stuart did not look back.

Question. When is a Duke not A Duke?
When he’s a Prince. The Duke of Northumberland Danny Nuttall was turning this week into a one-man show. The Duke produced the round of the week 37 points, a fantastic score and six more than anyone else. Danny was collecting titles for fun and “The Prince of Tralee” was the latest. For the mere mortals it was tough, but a course you will never forget.
After only 2 days the large ears had already reached cult status.
The battle was on, it came down to Colin Allott & Jeff Oliver as they hacked their way over the dunes of Tralee, alas Jeff failed to retain the ears, it was the Chancellor who strode forward at the awards ceremony to collect his prize.
The evening was quite, the scars of battle were beginning to show. Jamie Constable made a surprise appearance in the hotel Kitchens demanding proof of fresh duck, Marsh the ever present joker was right behind him. Unsatisfied they moved to the bar, where two bearded singers seem to capture the mood with renditions of gentle folk songs. Nuttall looked around the opposition was shot, he knew he had victory in the bag?
For some it was “once more into the breach”
The Allens, O,donell his finest hour approaching, Marsh who else and “the Constable” set off for one last assault on Killarney.

Danny Nuttall 37
Stuart Burrell 31
Mike Horgan 30
Ian Hixon 29
Rory Doyle 28
Dave Allen 27
Mike Allen 26
Huggy Brown 25
Simon Cliffe 24
Ray Carter 24
Reg Marsh 22
Mark Pilbeam 21
Jim O’Donnell 20
Jamie Constable 19
Graham Mann 18
Jeff Oliver 17
Colin Allott 15
Steve Allen 11

NORTHUMBERLAND OPEN CHAMPIONSHIP FINAL ROUND

Ring of Kerry by Mike Horgan

An alarm call at 5.45am was the bugle call for the intrepid bunch of Northumberland golfers to assemble in the restaurant for a light continental breakfast (courtesy of Huggy), prior to a 6.30 departure for the Ring of Kerry to compete for the title “Lord of the Ring” and the final round of the prestigious Northumberland Open Golf Championship.

The event was so eagerly awaited that certain players Jamie, Big Jim, Steve and Pilsbury found it too tense to sleep so decided to stay up all night in anticipation of a fast start the next morning.

Jamie Steve and Pilsbury were found entertaining some Irish guests with some light phone tampering (English to Punjabi) coupled with some jovial banter “you’re damp for me” and “come on get them out for the boys”.

Meanwhile Big Jim’s excitement obviously got the better of him so he decided to occupy his time with some naked deer stalking on the hotel lawns, he’d overheard a local comment on how this form of activity actually benefits the golf swing, all this and two majors up for grabs.

So it was that we departed the excellent Lake Hotel, reputation intact, funny money bets staked, confidence high but two men light, the non appearance of Dave A and Reg two Northumberland Stalwarts was a mystery to debate on route, and what a route. The journey to the Ring of Kerry course was across the mountains, which gave the location its name. We were treated to some of the most stunning scenery in the whole of Ireland. Culminating in the view from the aptly named “Lady’s View” out into the Ring of Kerry. All on board however did not appreciate the scenery as Jamie, Pilsbury and Big Jim finally succumbed to nerves and fell fast asleep.

On arrival at the course the captain was forced to leave the bus quickly in order to unleash the hazardous gases he had been diligently protecting the tour party from in order to ensure they all arrived safely and capable of play.

Once again the course had some spectacular views and news that the Tiger was expected on the 1st tee the following Tuesday further heightened the sense of anticipation at what was to come.
So with the draw in place and the players teeing off in reverse order we were off and running, let battle commence!
The standard of play from the first tee was a joy to behold as drive after drive disappeared over the brow of the hill on an unerring route to the green, however all this was to change as the leaders took aim first up was Stuart Burrell, Bunker right, The Captain – weak push right into trouble, Ian Hixon – slap short right – Danny Nuttall (the leader) hook left into trouble, the scene was set. Time after time the buggy ride upset the Leader to a point where the smooth swing from the links resembled the blur of the headmasters cane delivering six of the best, this coupled with the brilliant tee to green play of Stuart Burrell seemed to put the weight of the blarney stone on Danny’s shoulders.
The round was brightened by the regular appearance of Mr Carter either at the greenside or on the wrong fairway muttering “best get a out of here or the Captain won’t be happy”, so we were somewhat surprised when news filtered through that “The Red Dragon” was burning it up 18 after 8 look out Danny more bad news.

Rumours began to spread that the local Kerry fire brigade had been called to an emergency on the course as Jeff set light to his hair, the circumstances, lighted cigarette and pencil in hand, Pencil in mouth, cigarette behind the ear, nuff said. Back to the leaders, stunning hole after stunning hole led to the position after nine.

Danny 106 Stuart 102 Mike 101 Ian 98

The game was definitely on, blows were exchanged between the top two, as the Hixon and the Horgan fell away (sigh yet another major bites the dust), Ian nicked the longest drive on 15 with a skank off the bunker wall out onto the fairway denying the Chancellor some late glory, not satisfied with longest drive he tried to kill the Captain on the 16th but only succeeded in running over the CAPTAINS BALL in short the Hixster lost it! He was heard to mumble, “I’m on holiday and I’m tired” so to the 17th where with the right application Stuart could close out the game, but no a rare blob under pressure 2pts for Danny. To the 18th Stuart 1pt ahead, Stuart and Danny both find the green the Captain nicks nearest the pin, Stuart down for 3 leaving Dan with a put to half the match, the tension was unbearable, short right and it was all over. Stuart was “The Lord of the Ring” and had successfully defended the Northumberland open. Handshakes all round and a mad dash to catch the bus to the airport. Final scores.

Stuart 119 Dan 116 Mike 114 Ian 111

So a bunch of very tired golfers headed for Cork with 70% of the bus asleep. Their attention was gained when Huggy announced the Captain for a rundown on the play today and an overview of winners. Rory the intrepid coach driver who was brilliant for the 4 days was awarded honorary membership of the society and presented with a Northumberland badge, together with a huge wad of cash in appreciation of his efforts. Stuart picked up his award for the day and complimented the “Red Dragon” on his organisational skills and course selection, Pilsbury slumbered on. Rory became frustrated with Irish Sunday drivers, the captain contained the toxic gasses desperate to escape until at last the airport appeared over the horizon (huge sigh of relief).
Homeward bound, a fantastic golfing experience was over, but it was an experience, which will stay forever in the memory!

Thanks a lot Ray (The Red Dragon)
Stuart Burrell 34
Graham Mann 31
Simon Cliffe 30
Ray Carter 29
Mike Horgan 28
Ian Hixon 25
Duncan Lloyd 23
Danny Nuttall 23
Mark Pilbeam 21
Colin Allott 20
Jeff Oliver 19
Huggy Brown 18
Jim O’Donnell 11
Steve Allen 6

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