MAUREEN MADILL COLUMN: HOW DID THEY DO THAT?

Ireland’s Stuart Grehan celebrates with his team-mates following their victory at the Walker Cup at Lahinch. (Photo: Oisin Keniry/R&A/Getty)

Oh my giddy aunt!  Where, where to start?

What a privilege to be at Lahinch for the 51st playing of the Walker Cup.  It was a brief, two-day whirlwind of a contest that was months in the making.  Usually, it’s years in the making but the last encounter was only twelve months ago – at glorious Cypress Point, where the American team triumphed by 17 points to 9.  To avoid continuing to clash with the World Amateur Team Championships it was decided to play the match again in twelve months time so settling the Cup back into the time frame of being played in the even-numbered years.

Teams playing against the United States can often take a hammering in the singles portion of any battle and I have to admit to being in favour of altering the Walker Cup to a three-day affair, foursomes and fourballs on the first two days, followed by singles on the final day.  That would create a 26-point match with ten of those being singles points.  Currently we have a 26-point match with 18 of the points up for grabs in the singles, playing right into the wheelhouse of the United States.  And no one wants, or gets fired up by, a one-sided contest.

Last time out it was the singles that did for Great Britain and Ireland who only managed four points to their opponents’ fourteen.  Somehow, from somewhere, the home players this time reversed that trend winning eleven singles points to the opposition’s seven.  The final session was unbelievable – the stuff of fairytales – with GB&I winning seven of the ten points on offer, thus absorbing and sweeping aside the rather unexpected loss of all four foursomes matches that morning. 

It was all masterminded by Scotsman Dean Robertson who is the Head of Golf at Stirling University and who was a great player in his own right.  Meticulous and diligent in his preparation and in getting to know and understand his players, he made some big calls in his captain’s picks and then again in his astute handling of his team when, as often happens, the swings and dips of international golf at this level play havoc with the emotions.

One vital member of Dean’s backroom team was a guy called Scott Meenagh, a Paralympic silver medallist who had served in Afghanistan and lost both legs when on active duty.  He talked to the boys about his serving in combat and the importance of the ability to switch yourself on and then bring yourself back down in, during and after stressful situations.  What an incredible role model for our young players.

There were numerous visits for Dean to Lahinch prior to last week and when I arrived there on Thursday it was obvious how much the locals had taken him to heart.  They just loved him being around.  Fair to say he may now have superseded Jack Charlton as being our favourite, non-Irish sportsperson in the world.  In fact, I’m pretty confident he’ll now be regarded as an honorary Irishman, as was Charlton. 

I was amazed to realise that Lahinch is only the third course in Ireland to host the Walker Cup, following on from Portmarnock in 1991 and Royal County Down in 2007, where I remember commentating for the BBC and meeting for the first time a curly-headed 18-year old called Rory McIlroy.  That was a close call and a match we probably should have won.

Lahinch was a superb venue, the club and town merging seamlessly to look after the eight thousand spectators each day who roamed around the place.  The course was immaculately prepared and the weather tested the players who experienced everything from balmy, shirt-sleeve stuff to conditions you wouldn’t take your dog out in.

In top class sport the margins are wafer thin and the ability to gain and use momentum is key and there’s no doubt that the home galleries provided extra fuel for the home team.  Don’t forget, however, that this synergy is a two-way street and on that final afternoon the players stepped up and gave the galleries a great deal to cheer about.  The players then responded, the galleries reacted and that whole juggernaut of sporting momentum started sweeping across the Lahinch links.  In the end, it was too much, even for the might of America.

It was so special to be in the middle of it all and to experience it first hand.  It actually reminded me of being at Portrush when Shane won.  There’s nothing beats being at an Irish venue when your own are doing well and you witness them achieving a life-long dream.  It’s certainly worth the bus fare.

When Josh Hill holed that winning putt on the final green in the final match of the contest all hell let loose.  Sheer, unbridled joy abounded and the release and emotions of thousands erupted in waves round the green, bouncing off the clubhouse walls and re-energising all the weary bodies that had ben dragged up hill and down dale.

And so the celebrations started – first on the green, then in the clubhouse, then in the R&A pavilion in the tented village and then in the pubs in the village where Ian Poulter picked up the tab for all and sundry.  Son Luke had won both his singles.  Dad, the Ryder Cup “Postman”, couldn’t have been prouder.  For the home fans, it was perfect.

I still think it should be a three-day match with foursomes and fourballs, but I expect with this victory that’ll be put on the long finger.  Oh, well.

Olé, olé, olé.