Herbert Warren Wind, Henry Longhurst, Bernard Darwin, Peter Dobereiner. Golf is a game that has attracted great sports writing. Sadly, great sports journalism is in retreat, sacrificed at the altar of the professional. There are exceptions but my generalisation holds good, no more so than in the case of golf. I do still subscribe to a golf periodical but, sad to say, Today's Golfer is mostly a repository for endless reviews of expensive equipment and lists of expensive places to play. And don't get me started on the spineless failure to call out Donald Trump for the misogynist shitbag that he is - we should apparently look past his manifest faults and be grateful for his contribution to the world of golf. Please.
Thus I was encouraged to read the sage words (doubtless shaped by a ghost writer but nonetheless carrying the happy taint of authenticity) of Andrew 'Beef' Johnston in this month's edition. He may lack (by a wide margin) the poise of the writers listed above but he cuts through the forest of lame writing when he dismisses the PGA Tour's Player Equity Program: 'Basically it's the PGA Tour saying , "Here's a shit load of money from us for not taking a shit load of money from them." It's madness man'. Well amen to that brother. Certainly a far more helpful diagnosis than Rory McIlroy's recent lumping together of the PGA/LIV schism and the Northern Ireland peace process. Grow up.
Growing old is, all too literally, a pain. This time it's plantar fasciitis. Poor old me.
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