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19th Hole

Lexi Thompson leaves passport in her bag leading to delay at Women’s British Open for almost 40 players

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Almost forty players missed out on a practice round on Monday at this week’s Women’s British Open, after an unintentional error from Lexi Thompson.

According to Golf Channel, Ian Wright, who caddied for Seve Ballesteros during his career, was driving the van carrying 38 bags from last week’s Evian Championship in France to Woburn Golf Club outside London for this week’s major championship.

However, during this journey, Wright received a call and was told that Thompson had left her passport in her bag, which was in his van. Needing to fly out of Geneva, the former-caddie was instructed to pull over and wait while her caddie, Benji Thompson, grabbed a taxi to retrieve the passport.

The hold-up resulted in lengthy delays for both Wright and Thompson, as well as a frustrating wait for almost 40 players who were unable to play a practice round on Monday.

For Wright, the three-hour delay caused him to miss his ferry, and he then found himself stuck in rush hour traffic, while a British Airway’s strike led Thompson to fail to get to the course on Monday as she had planned.

An “exhausted” Wright was finally relieved when the ordeal came to an end, while Thompson’s agent, Bobby Kreusler. stated on the incident that

“Forgetting her passport, that was an honest mistake. And she had no idea retrieving it would cause the delay it did, or that it would impact other players the way it did. She would never have wanted that.”

Not everyone who suffered due to the mix-up was in a forgiving mood, however, with Ryann O’Toole criticizing the driver for accommodating Thompson and disrupting a third of the field’s preparation for this week.

“I don’t know why the driver would agree to accommodate one person knowing it would punish about a third of the field. The driver should have said, ‘Hey, I’ve got to get these clubs to Woburn. If you want the passport, somebody’s going to have to fly there to get it and bring it back.’”

 

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Gianni is the Assistant Editor at GolfWRX. He can be contacted at gianni@golfwrx.com. Follow him on Twitter @giannimosquito

13 Comments

13 Comments

  1. Freds Funk

    Aug 1, 2019 at 1:20 am

    Its Lexi’s world, we’re all just borrowing her air. Maybe she should recharge her mental batteries, again.

  2. Hybrid

    Jul 31, 2019 at 9:23 am

    It’s a very stupid idea to haul all of those bags together. Accidents, theft, etc can affect all of the golfers, too. I see why they decided to send all of those bags in one truck, but there have been better ideas. I suspect that golfers will, in the future haul there own stuff.

  3. Speedy

    Jul 30, 2019 at 4:24 pm

    What a crisis. Shank.

  4. Geoffrey Holland

    Jul 30, 2019 at 3:04 pm

    I believe that Lexi should consider withdrawing from this tournament. I mean she cost 37 other players a practice round.
    That van should never have been stopped someone could have easily retrieved her passport when it got there and had it sent on to her she was the only one who deserved to miss her practice-round which she did anyways.
    Causing 37 other players to miss a day of practice I just think that is such a catastrophic mistake on her part that she should just pull out of the tournament.

    • Distance Compression Dude

      Jul 31, 2019 at 9:53 am

      Cool your shorts, princess. An honest mistake does not warrant a withdrawal.

    • bulls9999

      Jul 31, 2019 at 11:49 am

      I see the driver made the dumb decision to wait for someone to arrive (2 hrs) and then it took 1+ hr to find the bag? Did they not make an attempt to pull the bags, find Lexi’s and pull the passport, maybe leave it at a local office in town (police station)? and then continue on their way. Seems like some people don’t know how to proceed in a crisis situation.

  5. Bob

    Jul 30, 2019 at 2:19 pm

    Her first international flight. Maybe the babysitter was asleep. Nothing is ever her fault. The definition of entitlement.

  6. A. Commoner

    Jul 30, 2019 at 2:00 pm

    Dumb is as dumb does.

  7. rjvanro

    Jul 30, 2019 at 1:11 pm

    He should have driven to London. Lexi could have sent a plane/helicopter to pick up the passport … she has the cash. How amazingly selfish. She should withdraw as part of her apology. How has she not yet grown up? my goodness …. says she can’t deal with criticism and had a near breakdown … yet still a social media addict. Sad.

  8. tony

    Jul 30, 2019 at 12:56 pm

    the whole doings is a joke in the first place, get a real job people

  9. MhtLion

    Jul 30, 2019 at 11:50 am

    Easier to say now than being in those shoes. Anyway, if the driver had left Lexi’s bag or the passport at a certain place – a gas station or some store – and paid a little money to safeguard it until Lexi’s staff could retrieve it. That would been a very wise action.

  10. James

    Jul 30, 2019 at 10:58 am

    What’s wrong with getting to the destination first, then bringing the passport back to Lexi so only she has to suffer her own negligence? Unbelievable.

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19th Hole

The DailyWRX (9/22/2020): Tiger, JT lifting the left heel?

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Rory’s distance is even more fascinating looking at this picture….

I love this! Bummed he’s leaving the USGA but stoked to play “hell day” at a Mike Davis track. 

At least 5…15….no more than 1,000.

I’ve been lifting my left heel all day. It’s off the ground as we speak. Typing speed went way up. Who knew?

Hi, Binny!

DM @johnny_wunder

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19th Hole

Rory McIlroy reveals his love for….Domino’s Pizza!?

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The Payne’s Valley Cup on Tuesday provided plenty of entertaining moments, but one thing golf fans perhaps weren’t bargaining on hearing was a Rory McIlroy deep dive into his current favorite pizza joint.

While his partner Rose was preparing to putt, McIlroy revealed that he was on a ‘big Domino’s kick’ at the moment, and it elicited a pretty hilarious reaction from Justin Thomas.

The Ulsterman justified his choice by claiming that when you don’t know the good local spots, then Domino’s Pizza is ‘solid’. When asked by JT what toppings he goes for, McIlroy responded that his go-to order is the ‘Deluxe’, which according to google consists of ‘green peppers, black olives, and meats like pepperoni, ham, and Italian sausage.’

So there you have it, Rory McIlroy is a self-confessed lover of Domino’s Pizza!

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19th Hole

A hacker plays the big ones: Pt. 4

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“A Hacker Plays The Big Ones” is a short story authored by Steven R. Roberts. The short story, written two months following the trip, tells the tale of Roberts and his friend, Bob Blackman’s, golf odyssey around Scotland in the 1970s where the two played four of most historic courses in the game: St. Andrews, Carnoustie, Muirfield and Gleneagles.

We have broken the short story into a four-parter and here is the final part.

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

Read Part 3 here.

The final day of competition was at Muirfield Golf Club near Scotland’s southern border. It’s officially known as the “Company of Honorable Gentlemen from Edinburg”, and it was the only private club we attempted to play. We arrived to find only one car in the parking lot.

“Could you direct us to the Pro Shop?” I asked the club secretary.

“Muirfield da noot hoov a pru ship,” (or a pro for that matter), he said. “Ya kin buy bells un tees if ya moost.” There you have the Scottish disdain for things commercial. There were no souvenir shirts, hats, gloves or bag tags for sale at Muirfield. One imagines any money prize awarded at the Open Championship to be held in 1980 will be slipped under the winner’s door in a plain white envelope.

Standing in front of the clubhouse, you can see across the rugged links course to the sea. Some 40 miles north across the Firth of Forth lies yesterday’s winner, St. Andrews, and another 40 miles north across the Tay River is the rugged Carnoustie.
Just a word about the course. Bob and I decided it would be tough on a calm day, but the gales blow off the sea without relief. Muirfield members say if there was a day without wind, they wouldn’t know what to lean against.

The rough is knee-high everywhere you look except for the thin strips of the fairways. Some players think there may be whole families living in the tall grass. Nicklaus used his driver only four times per round in winning in 1966. But as tough as the course was tee to green, the greens were tougher. On the third hole, my caddie, another of the weathered veteran survivors of the sea breezes, spent some time telling me exactly how my uphill 30-footer broke. I steadied myself over the ball and took a stroke which traveled to the crest of the break and stopped. As I took a step forward, the ball turned, slowly rolling back down the hill coming to rest at my feet. My caddie turned to look out at the sea. He didn’t bother to read my putts again for the rest of the round.
Moving on, the 17th hole, a 530-yard par 5, was going to provide an appropriate climactic stage for the finishing moments of the scheduled 1980 Open. Bob’s caddie advised that in some wind conditions the par five is reachable in two. On my second shot, I swung a three wood with both feet off the ground and was able to reach the front of the green. Bob got lucky and put his second shot within 100 feet from the pin. He two-putted for a birdie. I won’t bore you with the details, but I managed to sink a two-footer for my six.

Finishing off the round with two pars, we took some comfort in the fact that Gary Player took a double bogie six on the final hole to win the Open Championship in 1958.

We packed up our wet gear and said goodbye to four days of soaking in the adventure of Scottish golf. On the drive home that afternoon and evening, Bob and I played the “if only” game, a favorite of all golfers. This technique allowed us to imagine away five or six shots a round. Looking back over the four rounds, each course had the devil buried inside its character. Carnoustie was a weathered Scottish seaman’s face; Gleneagles was a soft, classy lassie with curves in the right places; St. Andrews was the ceremonial lord of the manor with understated British strength and style; and Muirfield was a wicked woman with her fringed skirt flapping in the breeze – aggravating because you suspect she’s easy for some but not for you.

We also distributed the prizes on the drive home. Bob beat me two rounds, and we tied for two, so he won ten pounds and six golf balls. He had six birdies during the week compared to my four, so Bandit Bob won another 40 pence. Luckily, he didn’t have any eagles or holes in one.

I was driving when we passed the Nottingham Forest exit about halfway home. I slowed down to let a sheriff’s car pass me in hot pursuit. I supposed he was looking for Robin Hood. The sheriff would be well advised, I thought, to check out the sandy-haired hood sitting in the dark, chuckling quietly in the passenger seat of my car.

I was also smiling. If Bob doesn’t play again for a week, he is going to have a real surprise. Before we loaded up at Muirfield, I found a city of termites under the woodwork in the hotel. I’d spent half the night collecting the squiggly little termite biters, and I was able to poke the putter shaft through the bag and slide it down the shaft, finally securing the bag to the shaft midway with tape. In a week Bob will find only a clubhead, grip and a pile of sawdust after the little beasties have a go at that tasty shaft.

But alas, Bob and I have had a week of living out a dream. We have walked the same fairways and greens that have been walked for centuries of golfers, from the founding fathers of the game to the stars of recent years. No other sport provides its fans such an opportunity to so closely assimilate the physical challenges of its major championships. The average amateur baseball player is not permitted to walk to the pitcher’s mound in Yankee Stadium and pitch three innings, and the weekend football nut cannot play running back at Heinz Field stadium facing the Pittsburgh Steelers. But we stood on the same spot on the 17th fairway at St. Andrews and faced the same wind off the Forth of Firth that has humbled the greats of the game for centuries. All the more is the hacker’s thrill if he somehow carries his ball over the trap and keeps it from bouncing over the green onto the road.

So, that’s my story from a week in the middle of October 1979. Having read this only slightly-exaggerated report on our trip, you are exempt from listening to my telling of the story in the event we run into each other at a cocktail party somewhere down the road. But if after a few drinks the conversation turns again to lifelong dreams, my answer will be the same. There are many more courses out there to be concurred. But, do me a favor. Bob is still raw over the mysterious pulverizing of his wooden shaft. If he’s around, just don’t say anything about another trip.

Author’s note: This story was originally written two months after the trip. I sent a copy to my former teammate at college and attached is a reproduction of his response. He finished second to Tom Watson at Muirfield in 1980. I should have been on the bag and helped him read those tricky greens

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