Driven by daddy
Kiran Matharu from Yorkshire is Britain's Michelle
Wie, according to her father. And he is determined
his daughter will achieve as much as the American
golfer as soon as she turns pro, he tells Clare Balding
Sunday October 23, 2005
The Observer
What do Richard Williams, Earl Woods and BJ Wie have
in common? They have turned their children into leading
international athletes with talent and self-belief
to spare. In America, they are lauded as inspirational
fathers. Over here, they would be damned as pushy
parents.
Amarjit Matharu has an ambition to add his name
to that elite list and, rather like Judy Murray, mother
of Andy, he may have to take on the British sporting
establishment to do it. His daughter, Kiran, is the
best female amateur golfer in the country. She plays
off plus 3.4 - compared to Michelle Wie's plus 4.2
- and she is only 16. Kiran is off to Texas this
week, having been invited to a training camp by Butch
Harmon, Tiger Woods' former swing guru. Nike,
Ping and Red Bull are all keeping a close watch. Serious
money is just around the corner.
I meet Kiran with her father and mother, who goes
by the nickname of Bubbly, at Cookridge Hall Golf
Club on the outskirts of Leeds. Kiran is a typical
16-year-old: shy, pretty without being aware of it,
awkward and uncommunicative. She seems happy to
let her father dominate the conversation and he is
delighted to oblige.
Amarjit is the youngest of five children whose
family arrived in the UK from India just before he
was born. He burst into the world in Leeds and
is a passionate Yorkshireman. He was a keen sportsman,
playing golf off four before switching his attention
to cricket, but he never quite made the big time.
He runs a bar in central Leeds and follows sport as
a fan. He feels hard done by that Kiran is not given
more attention.
'Everyone raves about Michelle Wie,' he says. 'I
know that if Kiran was American, she'd be red-hot
news.'
Kiran looks slightly embarrassed as he repeats endorsements
from David Leadbetter, Nick Faldo, Paul McGinley,
Harmon and anyone else who has played with or coached
his daughter and recognised her talent. No wonder
she is quiet. It is not easy when your dad is such
an energetic cheerleader.
'I played with a lot of good players,' says Amarjit.
'I wanted to be a pro myself so I know what the mindset
is and I tell you, when she was 13, I knew she was
the best golfer I had ever seen in my life. She was
a rubbish putter but her ball striking and her accuracy
were incredible. She was head and shoulders above
the rest.'
Despite his tendency to overenthuse and his leaning
towards the line that has 'nightmare parent' written
on one side of it, it is easy to warm to Amarjit and
his honesty. He does not pretend not to be pushy -
he never allowed Kiran to play off the women's tees
even when she was learning and he deliberately put
her in the highest level of competition if he felt
she was ready. Consequently, she played in the British
girls championship when she was 12. Nor does he attempt
to dodge the accusation that he is trying to fulfil
his own dreams of success through his daughter. It
is so obvious there is no point denying it.
Amarjit has ruffled a few feathers among the hierarchy
of the English Ladies Golf Association, where there
are those who think Kiran plays too much golf. Does
she think she plays too much?
'No,' she says.
Whereas most of her England team-mates started at
the age of five, Kiran was a late developer. She started
swinging a club only because her father was trying
to get his handicap down to have a crack at the seniors'
tour. While he was busy practising at a pay-and-play
club in Leeds, his elder son, Haminder, and Kiran,
who is the middle of the three children, were messing
around. The pro spotted Kiran and said he had never
seen a girl that good. She was 11 and had never set
foot on a course. The pro thought she could be playing
for Yorkshire within six months, so her father said:
'I'd better buy her some clubs.'
Within the next year, Kiran came down from a handicap
of 38 to 12. By the time she was 14, she was playing
off scratch. It must have been quite a blow to the
ego of a man who fancied himself as the star golfer
of the family to have his daughter race ahead of him.
To his credit, Amarjit took it better than some fathers
might and invested his time and effort in making sure
she could be as good as the pro had predicted. How
did Kiran react?
'I didn't know what they were all going on about,'
she says. 'I wasn't really interested but I went along
to the range because dad and my brother were going
and I didn't have anything else to do.'
As much as her father builds her up, Kiran knocks
herself down. Amarjit says she has the temperament
of her mother, who remains silent as her husband outlines
his career plan for their daughter. She will play
in the Curtis Cup next year, for which she is the
youngest member of the squad, and then turn pro.
Does Bubbly have any fears for Kiran? 'As long as
she's enjoying herself, it's fine. All we can do is
support her. She's got her head screwed on and she
knows what she's doing.'
Kiran left school this summer. They did not bother
booking her an appointment with the careers adviser.
She is likely to earn more in the next 10 years than
anyone else at her school. Her father, who can recite
her scores from a variety of tournaments, cannot remember
how many GCSEs she passed. It matters not.
'I made marks along the way,' Amarjit explains, 'but
she always passed them sooner than I thought. To be
honest, the amateur game doesn't suit her because
it's largely match play and anyone can beat anyone
on a given day. She's a stroke player and in the
professional game that's what you have to be good
at. The cream will always rise to the top over four
rounds.
'I know the qualities you need to be the best:
dedication, talent, work ethic and temperament. She
has all of those. She's very determined inside but
she's not very aggressive.'
Perhaps this is why Kiran is so unwilling to share
her own feelings about how good she might be, what
she wants to achieve and her motivation for playing
golf.
'I'm doing this for myself,' she says, in answer
to whether she is only trying to please her father.
'And for my family. I want to be good. I want to be
one of the best players in the world.'
She watched Michelle Wie's professional debut at
the World Championship earlier this month and thought
she played 'good' but she admitted that she wished
it was her out there. As for the unfortunate ball
drop that led to Wie's disqualification at Palm Desert,
Kiran was stunned.
'I am so surprised she didn't call for an official
ruling. I would always call the referee and always
have done in my tournaments. Then you can't go wrong.'
Was it an amateurish mistake? 'Yes.'
We head out on to the golf course and I am reminded
of the scene in Billy Elliot when he goes to the Royal
Ballet School for an audition. He has not been trained
to give a slick interview, to say all the right things
and just as he is leaving he is asked what it feels
like when he dances. 'It's like electricity,' he says.
He comes alive when he is dancing, not when he is
talking about it and Kiran is probably the same.
Her practice swing is a thing of artistic beauty.
So smooth, so relaxed, so natural. She bangs the
ball 260 yards down the middle of the fairway without
appearing to make any effort. She explains that
there are very few Asian women playing golf in this
country and, despite her best efforts, she has failed
to convert her friends, who all think it is 'boring'.
She says her classmates at Allerton Grange school
used to clap and cheer when she came back from a tournament
and they used to post press cuttings on the board.
She is serious about her new full-time job. She works
out three times a week at the gym and sees her coach,
Peter Tupling, 'whenever I like'. She has twice won
the Faldo Junior Series, last year by 11 shots, but
despite all the attention and the rapid progress,
she remains unimpressed by herself.
She is polite as I hack around, balls flying left
and right, until I shank one into the water, at which
point she laughs.
'This is such a bloody difficult game!' I scream.
'Don't you realise that?'
'No,' she says, and I know she is telling the truth.
'Are you frightened of turning pro?'
'No,' she replies. 'Why should I be?'
Her father, ever eager to get an opinion, asks me
what I think. Kiran is splashing out of a bunker to
within a couple of feet of the pin. She is hugely
talented and has star potential, I say.
Kiran Matharu could be the most exciting female golfer
to emerge in this country since Laura Davies started
scorching the hide off the ball. Let's hope she makes
it, not just to repay the £50,000 her family
has already invested in her career, but for her sake.
She may not yet have the skills to articulate it,
but in golf she has found her electricity.
