IT was with a tinge of sadness that I heard this week that the World Match Play Championship was being uprooted from its traditional home of Wentworth to Spain.
Unsurprisingly, the announcement was made to the sound of a loud, positive fanfare with the likes of Sergio Garcia expressing his delight that the event was now to be staged in his home country.
On the face of it, it can be seen as good news.
T
he World Matchplay has been in trouble for some years now with several big names having snubbed it in recent times, and the fact that it is not being held at all this year is a clear sign it was in danger of disappearing from the calendar.
So when new sponsors Volvo announced their backing, albeit on a lower level than that of previous sponsors HSBC, at least it meant a new lease of life.
But as I have said previously and I'm sure many of you agree, to me the World Matchplay and Wentworth in early autumn go together.
It was always the traditional end of season event, with a low sun throwing dappling shadows on the fairways and the dew thick on the ground as the final got underway early on a Sunday morning.
As soon as the players shook hands, usually with the tournament's dominant figure Ernie Els then raising the trophy, it was time to get out the warmer clothing and prepare for winter tees and greens.
Now of course, there's no break for the pros who head off to follow the sun as the Tour continues at just as fast a pace away from British shores.
I fear we may be in danger of the World Matchplay becoming just another tournament played on manicured fairways by the side of the Mediterranean.
MY father-in-law recently pushed the boat out and bought himself a golf simulator.
He seems very happy with it, and is continually mentioning how he can play all these famous courses around the world.
He even managed to get Torrey Pines programmed in and boasted proudly of getting down in regulation on a couple of the par threes where even Woods and Mediate struggled.
Well, that's as maybe, and though I didn't say anything to him, it's a lot easier banging a ball against a cushioned wall in the privacy of your own home than it is with Tiger and tens of thousands of fans breathing down your neck.
And what I also didn't mention was that my sister-in-law, who fosters trainee guide dogs, allowed a huge black labrador she was caring for to wander around his house the other day, and sure enough, it saw what appeared to be a lovely piece of virgin grass and promptly relieved itself on the simulated fairway.
I suppose it'll make it more realistic next time, if only to the extent of a more 'outdoor' aroma.
The full article contains 497 words and appears in Evening Courier newspaper.
