I am beginning to wonder if I have psychic powers. There’s no question that here in Africa, they firmly believe that some people are endowed with mystical magic. Witch doctors still exist. You’ve just got to know what bones to rattle. Back home we more commonly ask “which doctor?”, or “Doctor Who?”.
In the recent Rugby World Cup, I was convinced that England would beat New Zealand. I was then equally and depressingly certain that South Africa would win the final. Last Thursday I woke up early and the first thought that came into my head was that Pablo Larrazabal was going to emerge triumphant on Sunday in The Alfred Dunhill Championship at Leopard Creek. He led by three shots going into the final round, but was suffering badly with blisters on his feet and many thought the winner would come from elsewhere. I remained convinced it was his turn, even after a shocking start. He made six bogeys and one double bogey, but incredibly, when he seemed down and out, he birdied three of the last four holes to win by one. Perhaps he is descended from Lazarus? While my crystal balls seem to be working quite well, there is certainly nothing crystal about Pablo’s! I saw him this morning in Johannesburg Airport, where he was whiling away the time with a massage to re-invigorate a tired body. One thing is for sure. Only St Peter will stop him from returning here again and again.
He was staying last week in Johann Rupert’s house within the hallowed sanctuary that is Leopard Creek. I use “house” in the loosest sense of the word, in the same way that Fraser has a House, although the only resemblance to a Department store at Johann’s place is that there are plenty of staff. Mr Rupert is otherwise known as Mr Big. As one of the richest men in South Africa his personal wealth is estimated in billions rather than millions, but nobody really knows for sure exactly the extent of his fortune, apart from presumably Johann and his accountant. He has his fingers in an extraordinary number of unrelated pies around the world and exercises considerable influence inside and outside South Africa. He has been a tremendous benefactor to golf here and further afield for many years and is incredibly generous in many, often unseen, ways. One thing he seems to treasure above almost anything else is loyalty and trustworthiness. It is those values that are missing in certain other parts of the golfing world and I know that he finds that an offence to the game. It is an area that I will be keeping my eye on, as it could get interesting.
Such is the bankrupt state of the World economy, including Europe, that Johann has reportedly borrowed four billion euros from a bank, or banks, in Europe, not because he needs the money but because he cannot afford not to! At near zero rates of interest (or even less) he knows he can invest that cash in his businesses and make a considerably greater return, before he has to pay it back. What a crazy world. He is of the opinion that Europe is finished in its current state. If Britain dithers over Brexit for much longer there might not be a Union to leave!
I forgot to mention that Mr Rupert owns Leopard Creek, lock, stock and two smoking barrels. He employed his friends Gary Player and Jack Nicklaus to lay out the course and then tweak it. Two years ago he decided that the Kikuyu grass was consuming too much water, so he took the whole thing back to bare earth and re-seeded it with Cynodon, a type of Bermuda grass, that means it uses forty three per cent less water to keep green and fertile. The course this year is in unbelievable condition and tested the skill of the players to the limit with its firmness and speed. It is a truly magical place. Unlike, I fear, my powers.
Although, as a postscript, I have just flown from Nelspruit/Kruger via Johannesburg to Mauritius. I had a very strong feeling that my golf clubs wouldn’t make the trip and I was right. My main bag did, but not without being broken into and rifled. The clubs……….?
ADayInTheStrifeOf 