Martin Vousden on the Women’s British Open

Incoming!!! (not, however, directed at the eventual winner. More for others who rather got in the way…)

“Great Scot
Don’t you think that Catriona Matthew looks like Tom Watson’s younger sister? It was a thought that kept popping into my head while watching her stride to a well-deserved victory in the Ricoh Women’s British Open and of course, unlike Tom, she managed to steady a rocking boat and eventually win in comfort. The downside is that her victory prompted an outbreak of ‘Mother Superior’ and ‘Mother of all victories’ headlines.

If you have never won a Major, starting the final day with a three or four stroke lead is probably the loneliest place in professional sport – everyone expects you to win but that advantage can disappear quicker than a miser when it’s his turn to get a round in. Everyone else in contention is gunning for you and it must feel awfully vulnerable to have a huge target painted on your back. And early in the round most of our fears were realised when Catriona started spraying the ball about like an over-excited kid left in charge of the garden hosepipe.

But, as so often proves the case, it was her putter that saved the day, never more crucially than on the 10th, where a truly awful second shot saw her stuck in a gorse bush from which she had to take a penalty drop but she eventually banged in a 10-footer for a bogey that must have felt like a birdie. More excellent putts followed at the 12th, 13th and 14th but it was that little beauty on the 10th that changed everything.

I once interviewed Catriona at her home in North Berwick and she happily admitted that she’s one of the most boring people in the world. For a journalist she’s a nightmare because, while in love with golf, she’s the sort of person who hates talking about herself or her feelings and you suspect that if she could just play the game without public or media attention she’d be a damned sight happier – and good for her.

In complete contrast, of course, was her playing partner for the day, Christina Kim who, it seems to me, never saw a camera that she didn’t want to jump in front of. I have not met her and any impression I have has been formed just by watching her either on TV or in the flesh, but her constant grandstanding is like a pebble in my shoe. The victor’s walk to the final green is the greatest moment of their professional life but Kim didn’t allow the winner to bask in the literal and metaphorical sunshine – she was in Catriona’s ear for the whole walk and when they reached the green, she gesticulated at the gallery in order to orchestrate the cheerleading.

She reminded me of Kevin Pietersen, the England cricketer who, if he is at the wicket when a team-mate makes a big score, becomes as much a part of the celebration as the successful batsman and you just wish he would shake hands and then let the other chap soak up his moment of triumph.

But of course, Kim is in the US team for the Solheim Cup, which starts in two week’s time, and this is the event that brings out the worst of her jingoistic, over-the-top ebullience so I’ll just have to learn to suck it up.

A couple of final thoughts on the womens game. First, the players really should be able to line themselves up, for both full shots and putts, without the help of their caddy. When you start the game and first have lessons, the three basics of posture, stance and alignment are hammered home time and time again and they are lessons that most of us seem able to absorb. So why do these women, who have probably been playing at a high standard for at least a decade, seem incapable of getting this fundamental part of golf right without external help?

Second, there was some excellent golf played but there were also more than a few truly horrible shots, of a standard that would embarrass a 10 handicapper. I’ve already mentioned Catriona’s errant approach to the 10th but Christina Kim’s pitch to the 17th, for example, was the fattest shot I have seen since the MD of GoKart last took to the course, and it barely covered half of the 60 yards it was meant to travel. And these are not isolated incidents.

It is often said that most of us amateurs could learn a lot more from watching professional women golfers because their swingspeed is much more similar to ours than their male counterparts, and it’s a view with which I agree. I just can’t figure out whether the truly bad strokes that seem to pepper the women’s game should encourage or dishearten us.”

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