Our golfing facilities won’t make the cut for a long time
I’m told I can claim as close a connection with the British Open as most punters, even if it was in 1951 at Royal Portrush and I was 2 years old. In those innocent days spectators could sidle right up to the tee. Just as somebody was about to drive off, I’m told I piped up: ”What’s that man doing Daddy?” and got no more than a dirty look. I hate to think what would happen today. Like anybody with half a …