THE car rattles across a stretch of roadway which, on racedays, is smothered with sand and in its time has shuddered under the hoof prints of Dawn Run, Danoli and Dorans Pride, among countless others. It's an unlikely entrance to a golfing mecca, but then Leopardstown Golf Centre - an equine setting amidst Dublin's stockbroker belt is no ordinary place.
In fact, the car park, inevitably packed tightly, provides an early indication of what's to come: Mercs and Audis are lined up side by side with Skodas and Mieras, with few enough parking bays still available. Women (mainly) are hauling caddie cars and bags out of boots, and heading towards a locker room which is papered with overflowing time sheets and draws and notices warning that jeans, T shirts and leggings aren't allowed on the course.
There is no place like it anywhere in Europe. Even America, a place which patents its inventions with alarming adroitness, can't confess to a similar phenomenon. Day after day, with the notable exceptions of racedays, in wind and rain and sun, women from a myriad of societies play golf in the middle of Leopardstown Race course.
Many of them have been on clubs' waiting lists for years, without getting the call up, but they manage nevertheless to indulge their passion for golf - in arguably less stringent, friendlier environs - at the same allotted time and place each week. They travel from close by southside suburbs and from as far away as Sutton and Malahide to play.
The societies, which ensure a steady stream of players from shortly after dawn to shortly before dusk, have tabloid like names. The week starts with the Monday Movers, the Monday Strikers, The First Ladies, and Wedgewood; on Tuesdays, its the turn of The Eagles, The Larks, The Ladybirds, and The Swallows; Wednesdays see The Iron Ladies, The Hotshots, The Firsts, and The Wonders in action; then, on Thursdays, the women from The Swingers, The Tigers, The Birdies and The Belies hit the fairways. Finally, on Fridays, it's the turn of The Flyers, The Drivers, The Falcons and the TGIFs (Thank God It's Friday).
Leopardstown's generous fairways are seemingly forever crawling with women golfers; four societies a day, five days a week. A new mixed competition has begun to fill the weekend slack. The restaurant area is a buzz with tales of pars and missed putts, disasters and triumphs.
Michael Hoey, the director of golf at a venue which once bore John Jacob's famous name, is inclined to shake his head and shrug his shoulders at the success story, for that is what it is. "I never envisaged, nobody could have, that it would take off like this," he remarks.
Four or five years ago, players were arriving in dribs and drabs. Hoey noticed an increasing number were women. Some, complete beginners, were playing on their own. He started to request one woman to team up with another. Then the women started up a society. Another followed. And another. It got to the stage that there were over a thousand women on a waiting list. Hoey had to double the size of the car park, scrap the par three course and add on another nine holes to make a full 18 to facilitate everyone.
The explosion continued. As more societies were conceived, the waiting list reappeared and persists to this day. The demand simply can't be satisfied. "The whole thing just snowballed to be honest," confesses Hoey. "Each society is totally independent of one another. But it is a great training ground for them, and also provides a social outlet. We have regular talks on the rules and regulations and the various committees come down very hard on slow play. They take no prisoners.
Some of the women now gracing the fairways never held a club in their hands before catching the Leopardstown bug; others dragged old, cobwebbed clubs owned by their mothers and fathers out of the attic to relaunch careers.
Jean Cole, captain of The Belies, is a member of Courtown and, like many others, joined the path to Leopardstown on someone's suggestion. In Jean's case, it was her daughter Linda Cole McKenna, a 10 handicapper in Blainroe, who pointed her in the centre's direction. The society is one of the newer ones, only a year old. But it is thriving, with a waiting list already, and Christmas parties and trips away, its own constitution and a recently designed crest for the commissioned Jumpers.
"The first thing we tell new members is to buy good wet gear," she says, bearing out a point made earlier by Hoey that the women "go out in all kinds of weather, weather that men wouldn't even play in."
There is a mix of cultures and social status, millionaires' wives and mothers of school going children playing golf and enduring the same heartbreak or joy on the greens. "Nobody cares who anybody is here, we're just here to play golf," says one women. She points over to a corner table, where two elderly women are indulging in cakes and coffee. "They're in their seventies and never played golf before coming here; now, they're winning prizes," she adds.
The beauty of the Leopardstown set up is that everyone appears to be comfortable with each other. Another asset is the adjacent driving range, where Irish Region PGA professional Dominic Reilly heads a team of teachers, for men and women alike.
Anne Barry is first and foremost a sailor, but she discovered her land legs when introduced to golf. Now, she's captain of The Iron Ladies and has helped establish a number of other societies. "I never had a golf club in my hand before playing here," she confesses, "but I'm not unique in that. Many other ladies can tell you a similar story.
"Importantly, this is a course we are able to play, without being hassled or intimidated, and there is great camaraderie among everyone. It's a great place to start golf," adds Barry.
The game takes all types. Some women start off with handicaps as high as 36 (plus seven), and some have witnessed their handicaps plummet downwards. One thing is obvious at Leopardstown, however. There is a genuine love of the sport; golf is very much the winner.
