John Huggan

Chatting it up about golf
August 14, 2006

John Huggan is the European correspondent for both Golf Digest and Golf World. He is also the golf columnist for Scotland on Sunday. He lives in Dunbar, Scotland, where he hits many very bad half-wedge shots from around 75-yards or so.

Today Huggan chats about the sad news out of London that Heather Clarke lost her battle to cancer.

- GolfObserver editors

The Golf World Loses a Classy Lady

Photo: ©Richard Heathcote/Getty Images Heather Clarke while watching Darren in last year's Daily Telegraph Dunlop Masters.

In a year in which real life and death has already adversely affected the golf season by absenting the world's best player for two months after the passing of his father, the sad news that Heather Clarke, wife of Darren and mum to Tyrone and Conor, has lost her long and bravely fought battle with cancer is sobering indeed. Perhaps even more than that of Earl Woods, a man in his seventies who had lived a long and active life, the death of a young woman - Heather was but 39 - with two small children is a reminder that no one, no matter how famous, can ever take life for granted. Health, not wealth, is what really matters.

Which is the conclusion Clarke reached a long time ago. But it took a while. Over the last three years or so, I have on more than one occasion had the opportunity to sit down for lengthy interviews with the former rugby player. He can be, by reputation at least, not the easiest of men to deal with. More than one of my journalistic colleagues has little or no good to say about the burly Ulsterman and some of his behavior in such a setting.

That, I have to say, is a Darren Clarke I do not know or recognize. Without exception, the 38-year old from Dungannon - his birthday, agonizingly, fell one day after his wife's premature demise - has treated me with the sort of courtesy and respect you would want from any acquaintance, however tenuous. There is nothing he enjoys more than a good, free-flowing chat over a couple of pints of the dark stuff.

Photo: © Phil Cole /Allsport Darren and Heather after his victory in the 2001 Smurfit European Open.

During our talks, the subject inevitably turned to his wife and her illness. His reaction, every time, was interesting. In an obvious attempt not to let a mere journalist too far into what was a delicate area, Clarke never gave too much away, nor should have. But what he could never do was hide the hurt.

Here are a just a few of the things Darren had to say about his sons and his wife. They reveal, much more than any words from any journalist, the level of inevitable introspection a lingering and insidious illness such as cancer provokes in everyone it touches.

On his family: "Family issues are the big things with me. I am pretty emotional, which is not something I reveal to the public ordinarily. It's a private thing. But I'd own up to it if pressed. I'm no different from most people, I think."

On himself (speaking after Heather's first bout with cancer and when she was in remission): "A lot of the change in me stemmed from Heather's illness. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer everything was put in perspective. Through trying to improve as a golfer I'd become very selfish. Which you have to be, to an extent. But I was that way at home too.

"Heather's illness made me think. Not that golf was unimportant to me, but that my petulance was ridiculous. Here was I getting pissed off about missing a green with a 5-iron and my wife had a life-threatening illness. Stupid."

On meeting his wife: "I first saw her at a drunken evening in a Portrush nightclub. I remember the first couple of drinks I bought her. I dropped them both before I could put either of them into her hands. "She was selling hair products into salons and was from Portrush. She didn't know golf though. She knew I was a golfer but had no real idea who I was. Or at least it made no difference to her. She certainly wasn't impressed!"

On Heather's second bout of cancer: "My wife is a battler. She fights it so hard and I have so much admiration for her. She actually encourages me to get out and play. She doesn't want me sitting around the house. But it's difficult. She just gets on with it. Sometimes I don't know how; she is so brave and so strong. I know she puts on a brave face for me when I'm away."

Photo: © David Cannon/Getty Images The Clarke family in this April, 2002 picture. Darren is next to Conor and Tyrone is by his mom.

On his sons: "The boys are good. They know Mummy is sick and has to go into hospital now and then. And they know she can't do much at times. We have been keeping an eye on them because it is hard for them, too. Tyrone is eight and a big boy, but he is the sensitive one. Conor is more rough and tough."

On cancer itself: "When you've gone into a cancer ward and watched your wife undergoing such pain, a poor shot means nothing at all. It has certainly been humbling for me. Cancer knows no difference between anyone. I can do everything I can. I can throw all kinds of money at it, but it makes no difference. It is the same for everyone. It's a horrible disease because you never know when it is going to strike next."

Throughout his wife's eventually losing fight, Clarke has provoked much sympathy from players and fans alike, admiration, too.

"Darren has been unbelievable," said Thomas Bjorn, a close friend and neighbor, last December. "It's been hard to watch him and Heather battle through it all. They have endured so much over the last few months, getting news that has been hard to cope with. Darren seems to have dealt with it well, but more importantly she has been remarkable. The way she has dealt with it has made it easier for her and the way she has dealt with it has made it easier for him. They are a great team and a great example of how to deal with adversity."

In conclusion, I cannot pretend that I knew Heather Clarke, but I met her a couple of times and on each occasion she was pleasant, friendly and noticeably oblivious to her husband's celebrity. In other words, she seemed nice and behaved nicely, which is as much as you can reasonably ask of anyone.

Photo: © Andrew Redington/Getty Image Darren and Heather arriving at the Gala Dinner during the 2004 Ryder Cup.

Heather also had a famous lack of respect for her partner's propensity for employing a body for every job. It is not unusual to see Clarke on the range at a tournament surrounded by a swing coach, a putting coach, a sports psychologist, a minder, a manager and a caddie. All of which always made me think of the day Darren asked Heather where the letter opener was. "It's his day off," came the despairing reply.

The last time our paths crossed was in the Bahamas, one week before this week's Masters. I was at the Abaco Club as part of a press junket and the Clarkes, who own a lodge near the beach there, were taking a brief vacation before the year's first major. Seeing me starting what would have been a long, hot walk up a steep hill to the clubhouse, Darren stopped his golf cart and picked me up.

Sitting in the back with the boys as their parents rode upfront, it was hard, knowing the awful backdrop that was Heather's illness, not to be struck by an aching poignancy at the outward normality of such a scene. As Tyrone and Conor bickered as only siblings can, Darren and his wife chatted about the evening to come, asked me how my day was going; the usual stuff really.

Later that week, I saw them again, childless this time, at an evening function. As the guests mingled under the stars and sampled a delicious buffet, the Clarkes sat apart and alone, their table adorned with a single candle and a couple of balloons. It was, as it turned out, their tenth wedding anniversary. Without getting too maudlin, it was difficult not to glance across, briefly take in such a romantic little scene and not be overcome with a heavy sadness. As everyone knew - no one more than themselves, no doubt - it was also likely to be the last such celebration. And so, tragically, it proved to be.