Letter from Doonbeg: The calm before a different storm

CALM BEFORE STORM: A spectator on the 14th green during a Pro-Am round at Trump International Golf Links. Pic: Brian Lawless/PA Wire.

Time to gain favour. The venue, its surrounding hamlets and the wider sport on this island all want to put their best foot forward. It oozes from every single interaction in the makeshift venue, with a considerable ceiling and an ominous floor.

First, the possible peaks. This week could be incredible. The 138-strong field is stacked with various major winners, Irish stars and a legion of LIV rebels at Trump International Doonbeg ahead of the Amgen Irish Open. It is a modern links course with some stunning panoramas of the adjacent sea. The view from the 14th is just sensational.

In true Irish fashion, the fine china is out and the dust has been swept under the carpet for the arriving guests. Signs to herald nearby coffee trucks with their enticing toasties have been repainted. Local filling stations are bedecked with balloon arches. It all screams calculated hospitality.

There is a palpable warmth in its people. The number of Garda personnel all over the county is staggering. Stewards and volunteers will help approximately 75,000 patrons find their way to a course that is only accessible by park-and-ride, with even pedestrian access prohibited.

A special nod to Dominic Sullivan of Kilkee for his timely assistance in removing some stubborn wheel nuts on our punctured tyre this week. The real heroes are the ones on the other side of the rope, ensuring the clumsy aren’t trapped in a waterlogged field for hours upon hours.

On the flip side, we have the circus. US President Donald Trump’s shadow here was inevitable once the venue was selected. The club’s management expect protests, while the added security apparatus is unmissable. The old gift shop has been converted into a makeshift office for various attendees to collect additional accreditation via Garda vetting. It’s that kind of week.

It hangs over every element of this event. There is every chance play will have to be stopped on Saturday to facilitate his helicopters’ arrival. Rory McIlroy and Shane Lowry are among the favourites, along with the likes of Jon Rahm, Robert MacIntyre and Tyrrell Hatton. What part will Trump play in the trophy presentation? How will those potential images age? Is the inconvenience worth the spectacle?

Well, that depends. Golfer after golfer walked off the course early in the week and reached for the same links cliché: these wide fairways and soft greens are eminently scoreable if the weather is calm. If the wind picks up and howls, it’ll become a brutal challenge. The layout encourages players to get their scoring done early and then hold on down the back nine.

Doonbeg is a classic out-and-back course, playing with the wind for the first half. Its reduced field, down from the typical 156, is a necessary measure to complete play, particularly on Thursday and Friday. That layout also means it’s not really feasible to host a two-tee start.

As well as that, you couldn’t describe the rolling undulations as spectator-friendly. There are only 900 grandstand seats, while those brave enough to follow play will face steep coastal dunes. Any casual onlooker may be best off opting for a natural perch on that sweeping amphitheatre that those towering ridges create.

Without demanding conditions, competitors will score here. It wasn’t always this way. At the official opening back in 2002, Pádraig Harrington played Greg Norman in front of 3,000 people. That was when the place was raw and real.

“It was really quirky. Crazy things, crisscrossing holes, bunkers and grains, you could be on the green and couldn't see the pin,” he recalled on Wednesday.

“Like really mad stuff. That is kind of how you imagine a links golf course a hundred years ago was.

“Since Trump has taken over the ownership, it has turned it into a tournament golf course. It has softened up a lot of things and brought things into being a bit, I suppose you would use the word fairer, but certainly more standardised in competitive golf, because you know, the course that we played in 2002, that was crazy.” 

More pleasant for the players. What about everyone else? The sickos among us would prefer to watch toil and struggle, a testament to the true artistry that should come with playing links golf. This conflict is not unique to Doonbeg, but you couldn’t claim the breathtaking scenery poses a legitimate hazard either. There are dunes that wouldn’t even be a consideration for the longest hitters in this field.

Early in the week, the gusts were absolutely relentless. During one practice round, four-time European Tour winner Guido Migliozzi lost a ball at the back of the fourth green. While helping him search, we found two other abandoned balls that had been blown off line in the practice round. His cheerful offer, “whatever you find, you keep,” saw us skipping back with a pocket full of Titleists and TaylorMades. We tell you this to explain the favourable coverage the Italian will likely receive in these pages for the rest of the week.

As for the geo-politics, golf is a sport that has spent decades trying to feel less like a corporate enterprise and more like something authentic. It has been remarkable to watch the Irish golfers responsible for advancing the game here, who fuelled its popularity through their own relatability, try to navigate uncomfortable questions about the looming presence over the past few days. There is no separating the sport from the political sideshow at a venue like this. The only guarantee for this tournament is that the escapism of sport will be overruled by the real world.