Latest news with #NickMcGrath
The Sun
10-06-2025
- Sport
- The Sun
Inside the World Crazy Golf Championship as 162 players compete for title on Hastings seafront – how did our man get on?
THE historic majesty of the Old Course at St Andrews, the lush, rolling greens of Georgia's Augusta National . . . And last but not least, the windswept, drizzly grandeur of Hastings' Pelham Place, home to arguably the greatest fixture in the global sporting calendar — the 22nd World Crazy Golf Championship. 5 5 5 Standing on the slate-grey seafront, just beyond the miniature railway and the swan lake pedalos, the tricky 18-hole course has played host to some of the most compelling confrontations in golfing history. And as the rain lashes the painted windmill on hole five, it's my turn to take to the tee. A hush falls over the cagoule-wearing crowd in East Sussex as I flick seagull poo from the soggy felt green and prepare to take the tournament by storm. Nick 'The Hack' McGrath — your time is now. Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, putter poised, I stroke my WCGC-monogrammed ball effortlessly past the windmill towards the par two hole. My opponents in the novice competition — Dee 'The Retailer' Relf, a 49-year-old Poundland store manager from Kent, and retired local aromatherapist 'Fragrant' Sue Goodhand, 74 — raise their eyebrows in surprise, clearly intimidated by my commanding presence. Seventeen holes, 55 scattergun shots and zero holes-in-one later, I've disgraced myself and almost detached the wooden watermill on hole nine from its hinges. 'You did really well,' lies Sue charitably. 'Most first-timers average six or seven a hole, so well done.' 'Pretty fierce' Like Sue, it's Dee's second year in the championship, but she's not confident about retaining the women's crown she took home last year. 'Too many mistakes this year,' she sighs, before revealing how she will spend her prize money if she does top the leaderboard again. The ultimate hole-by-hole World Crazy Golf Championships course guide as 'Holy trinity' descend on Hastings 'Probably down the pub with a nice Jack Daniels and Coke.' Sue and Dee are just two of the estimated 11million Brits that play crazy or mini golf regularly. The first UK course opened in Skegness in 1926 and today there are more than 1,200 in Britain. 'There is definitely an element of crazy in crazy golf,' admits event organiser Simon Tompkins. 'We started with 24 entrants in 2003, and there are 162 competitors this year, from as far and wide as Hungary, America and New Zealand. 5 'It's a fun pastime for all the family and all generations. But when you get to the final round with the elite players, all the balls are in play at the same time, and they can knock each other out. The rivalry can get pretty fierce.' The titans of the modern game are two-time champion Adam 'AK 47' Kelly and reigning, four-times winner Marc 'The Force' Chapman, who will become the joint most successful player of all time if he takes home the £1,250 first prize in the Pro Contest. When you get to the final round with the elite players, all the balls are in play at the same time, and they can knock each other out. The rivalry can get pretty fierce Event organiser Simon Tompkins A fencing coach from Canterbury, 39-year-old father-of-one Marc believes crazy golf divinity has nothing to do with luck, and everything to do with mental strength. 'If you only played a one-round shootout, then anyone could get lucky and win,' says Marc, competing for the 15th time. 'But over a weekend of six or seven rounds you need focus, consistency and presence of mind. Without that, you're gone.' And far from crumbling under the pressure, he positively revels in his rivalry with Adam Kelly and fellow elite veteran and former winner Michael Smith, who is sadly absent this year. 'We're like the Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic and Roger Federer of the Crazy Golf world,' says Marc, who plans to spend his prize money on servicing his Audi Q3. Competing for the 16th time, double winner Adam, who triumphed in 2022 and 2023, is desperate to regain the title from his arch-rival. 'Last year, if I'm honest, I was just outplayed. Marc Chapman had a great year, and I wasn't quite at my best. 'I'd love to get the title back and go on to win five championships and to be talked about among the all-time greats of the tournaments. Of course I would.' But Adam is also a realist. He is aware that he and other elite performers are not striking fear into Tiger Woods, Rory McIlroy and the professional golfing community. 'Rude awakening' 'You've got to have a sense of perspective,' admits Lincoln-based Adam. 'It's great to be able to call yourself a world champion and not many people get to do that. But I've also got enough perspective to realise it is a bit silly.' Flamboyant Texan Rainey 'Rainman' Statum has travelled 5,000 miles from Houston to compete for the first time in the competition and he is struggling with the conditions. 'This one has been on my bucket list for years and years,' says the confident 63-year-old. 'But it's been a rude awakening. I'm Texas -born and raised and it's usually 95 degrees out there, so I'm freezing. 'I've got five layers on and I'm still shivering but I'm still confident. And if it doesn't work out this year, I'll be back next year.' Rainey, who works in building maintenance at the Deerwood Country Club Golf Course in the US, featured in the 1996 comedy movie Tin Cup and has won $200,000 and numerous American crazy golf titles. He believes that preparation is pivotal and played 25 rounds on the Hastings course before the event itself. 5 'I've also got this bible,' he says, clutching a notepad full of intricate line drawings of the undulations, angles and eccentricities of each hole. 'This definitely helps, but you've still got to hit them.' Obsession has its pitfalls though, reveals Rainey. 'My ex-wife got rid of me because I played too much crazy golf, so yeah, it kinda cost me my marriage. But my new lady friend loves it.' As the competition draws to a close on the Sunday afternoon, AK 47 slides down the leaderboard. "But my new lady friend loves it.' As the competition draws to a close on the Sunday afternoon, AK 47 slides down the leaderboard. Leapfrogging him into second place as the final round approaches is wily Welshman Seve 'The Dragon' Kukielka, currently top seed in the British Minigolf Association Rankings. He gets to within a single shot of Marc Chapman but the Canterbury competitor's two holes-in-one in the final three holes earns him a record-breaking fifth title and enough prize money to service his Audi. He is clearly jubilant after joining Tim Davies at the top of the all-time World Crazy Golf Championship table, and local player Murray Thompson eventually pips Seve to second place. Marc is already thinking about passing the baton on to his crazy-golf-mad son Ambrose, three. And how will Marc celebrate his triumph? 'Probably with a restless night being kicked in the back by the little one when he gets in the big bed.'
Yahoo
31-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Pacelli among those institutions keeping an eye on potential state level cuts
May 30—Around a week ago Pacelli Catholic Schools recognized another successful class during its 2025 Commencement, graduating all 11 of its students. It's a trend that has continued over the years as the school has boasted a 98.6% 10-year graduation rate and even though class sizes range on the low end of students per class, it's a mark Pacelli has nonetheless become proud of. However, recent maneuvering within the Minnesota State Legislature have raised anxieties regarding non-public schools funding Pacelli receives from the State of Minnesota. "This has been huge in the private school world," said Pacelli Advancement Director and social Studies teacher Nick McGrath. State law allows reimbursement to schools regardless of whether or not they go to a public or private school. That reimbursement funding goes towards things like busing, however, in his most recent budget proposal, Gov. Tim Walz pinned the cutting of $109 million in funding for non-public school aid as well as funding for busing non-public school students. It's something those in the private school sector, including Pacelli, have been watching closely as the school could miss out on close to $1,100 per student. "It's just a really touchy subject if we lost our funding," McGrath said. There are plenty of misconceptions that float around in the orbit of private schools including things like its education for the upper class or in Pacelli's case, you have to be Catholic to attend — neither of which are true in its case. "There's a common saying that if you've seen one private school, you've seen one private school," McGrath said, adding that Pacelli's enrollment mirrors its much bigger neighbor across the street, Austin High School, in terms of demographics. "You don't have to jump through hoops," he said. "Seventy-five percent of the student body receives aid of some kind. We mirror the demographics of the public system." A large chunk of Pacelli's overall each year comes from fundraising, including its biggest fundraiser, the Pacelli Auction, which this year aimed for raising between $225,000 and $250,000 and uses the money for things like scholarships. The school was actually saved through a fundraiser in 1992 when the financial strain of keeping the school open very nearly closed the school permanently. This year, the auction raised a total net profit of $217,531.67. While the legislature failed to get a budget passed during the regular session, it is now facing a special session to get it completed. However, the proposal has since been indefinitely postponed. Lobbying groups for private schools have opposed the bill, with the Minnesota Association of Independent schools citing that it's contradictory to state intentions. "This legislation directly contradicts long-standing Minnesota policy that ensures equitable access to educational benefits for all students, including those attending nonpublic schools," the MAIS said in a letter to the Minnesota Senate Education Finance Committee on March 30. However, educator unions have voiced support for the bill saying that money generated from the public should be used for public education. It's a source of frustration for private schools who say that education standards often cross over with those of public schools and in some cases, like Pacelli, the only difference tends to be that faith is a guiding principle. "We do not offer a cut-rate education," McGrath said. "You are not being served 80% coming Pacelli. What you are getting is a comprehensive education rooted in faith."
Yahoo
31-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Pacelli among those institutions keeping an eye on potential state level cuts
May 30—Around a week ago Pacelli Catholic Schools recognized another successful class during its 2025 Commencement, graduating all 11 of its students. It's a trend that has continued over the years as the school has boasted a 98.6% 10-year graduation rate and even though class sizes range on the low end of students per class, it's a mark Pacelli has nonetheless become proud of. However, recent maneuvering within the Minnesota State Legislature have raised anxieties regarding non-public schools funding Pacelli receives from the State of Minnesota. "This has been huge in the private school world," said Pacelli Advancement Director and social Studies teacher Nick McGrath. State law allows reimbursement to schools regardless of whether or not they go to a public or private school. That reimbursement funding goes towards things like busing, however, in his most recent budget proposal, Gov. Tim Walz pinned the cutting of $109 million in funding for non-public school aid as well as funding for busing non-public school students. It's something those in the private school sector, including Pacelli, have been watching closely as the school could miss out on close to $1,100 per student. "It's just a really touchy subject if we lost our funding," McGrath said. There are plenty of misconceptions that float around in the orbit of private schools including things like its education for the upper class or in Pacelli's case, you have to be Catholic to attend — neither of which are true in its case. "There's a common saying that if you've seen one private school, you've seen one private school," McGrath said, adding that Pacelli's enrollment mirrors its much bigger neighbor across the street, Austin High School, in terms of demographics. "You don't have to jump through hoops," he said. "Seventy-five percent of the student body receives aid of some kind. We mirror the demographics of the public system." A large chunk of Pacelli's overall each year comes from fundraising, including its biggest fundraiser, the Pacelli Auction, which this year aimed for raising between $225,000 and $250,000 and uses the money for things like scholarships. The school was actually saved through a fundraiser in 1992 when the financial strain of keeping the school open very nearly closed the school permanently. This year, the auction raised a total net profit of $217,531.67. While the legislature failed to get a budget passed during the regular session, it is now facing a special session to get it completed. However, the proposal has since been indefinitely postponed. Lobbying groups for private schools have opposed the bill, with the Minnesota Association of Independent schools citing that it's contradictory to state intentions. "This legislation directly contradicts long-standing Minnesota policy that ensures equitable access to educational benefits for all students, including those attending nonpublic schools," the MAIS said in a letter to the Minnesota Senate Education Finance Committee on March 30. However, educator unions have voiced support for the bill saying that money generated from the public should be used for public education. It's a source of frustration for private schools who say that education standards often cross over with those of public schools and in some cases, like Pacelli, the only difference tends to be that faith is a guiding principle. "We do not offer a cut-rate education," McGrath said. "You are not being served 80% coming Pacelli. What you are getting is a comprehensive education rooted in faith."
The Sun
04-05-2025
- The Sun
The do's & don'ts to win the dating game post divorce – and why getting a dog could be key to biggest mistake to make
WHEN Nick McGrath, 54, separated from his wife after 20 years, he found that the dating scene was unrecognisable. Here he reveals what he's learnt about what women want . . . 4 'LET'S GO HALVES?' I suggested to the feisty Irish lawyer I had connected with on Hinge. After a congenial debate about women's rights and equality in a London gastropub, it seemed the decent thing to do on a first date. We'd matched a few days before and, although sparks hadn't flown over the overpriced burger and dirty fries, a second date felt feasible. After an hour of sexy chat about the malevolence of the patriarchy, I feared coming across as a macho dinosaur who treated women like helpless waifs incapable of paying for dinner, so assumed going Dutch was politically correct. It wasn't. 'What do you mean, I pay half?' spat Orla, her fury rising, just minutes after she had finished lecturing me about the European Court of Justice 's latest ruling on gender pay parity and discrimination at work. 'The man should always, always pay.' I decided to hold fast. 'Sorry, can we get this straight,' I said. 'You're all for equality, but only if it suits your bank balance,?' That went down like a shot of stale sick, as Orla expanded on her lopsided equality theory. 'If you want even a one per cent chance of kissing me — let alone f***ing me — you need to pay for f***ing everything,' she said, shoving the £60 bill toward me as the waiter sniggered. 'He's paying,' she told him, ordering her fourth Pinot Grigio. Previously wavering between a seven or eight for desirability, Orla's diatribe had worked for me like reverse beer goggles, dragging her down to a four, at best, and suddenly the prospect of a second date seemed less attractive than Ann Widdecombe. Enraged by her hypocrisy, I slapped my 50 per cent of the bill on the table, in cash, and left. 'She's taking care of the rest,' I said to the waiter on the way out. 'Including the tip.' Incredibly, that wasn't the end of it. 'Where do you think you're going?' came the feral accusation six minutes later, as I neared the refuge of the Tube station. 'What sort of excuse for a man leaves a vulnerable woman to walk home on her own on a dark night? 'You need to walk me to my door. 'Or I'm calling the police.' Dialling 999 on my mobile, I put my phone on loudspeaker and offered it up to Orla's face. As a monotone call handler offered the choice of police, ambulance or fire service, Orla's rabid features contorted into an even uglier scowl before she finally turned and fled precariously into the perilous night. 'DISASTEROUS LIASONS' I'm sure if Orla was retelling this encounter to friends, I would have been described as a rude, obnoxious pig — or worse. I've read articles by women describing the hell of midlife dating — the trail of disappointing dates and awful men. But as a bloke dating for the first time after two decades of being married, I've found it a minefield — and I'm sure most single blokes out there are just trying to figure it out, like me. I'd been warned by friends to expect to find 'nutters' on dating apps — it's the same for both sexes, and sadly Orla wasn't my first such encounter, and will not be the last. Among my more disastrous liaisons — punctuating a host of perfectly normal dates who didn't make me want to run headfirst into a rusty spike — were a Texan conspiracy theorist who looked like Hollywood star Liv Tyler but was convinced Covid had been concocted in a Connecticut lab in the US, a crop-haired Zumba instructor who declared her love for me during a picnic, within two hours of meeting, and a home economics teacher who admitted before she'd finished her first Negroni that she wasn't looking for a partner but a baby father. Of the dozens of women I've chatted to on apps, and the handful I've been on dates with — maybe a couple of handfuls — there have also been successes. But jumping straight into the Wild West unpredictability of dating apps before I'd emotionally absorbed my divorce — let alone tackled the psychologically and financially draining trauma of the proceedings — might not have been the wisest move. For someone who'd been out of the game since the mid-Nineties, post-Millennium digital dating was a rude awakening to the sheer unpredictability of humans. Prior to my eventually failed marriage, the last time I'd put myself out there, Princess Diana was busy telling interviewer Martin Bashir that she'd been having a secret affair with James Hewitt, and the Queen Mother was fighting fit after her latest hip op and still knocking back her daily gin-and-Dubonnet. In 1995, the internet was still in nappies — and apps, let alone dating apps, were the stuff of sci-fi fantasy. Fast-forward a quarter of a century and meeting new partners 'organically' was rarer than a Tottenham Hotspur football trophy — but like learning how to ride a bike or mastering keepy-uppies, I learned that the secret to navigating dating apps was simply plenty of practice. Plus, making sure my main profile photo was of me with my adorable rescue dog Harry (@whenharrykane9met) who brings my way far more attention than I could ever hope for without him. 4 4 And secondly, iron out the rookie errors — like downloading Bumble an insensitively short amount of time after separating from my wife and realising that Apple sharing was still connected, so the transaction popped up on her current account. Or crying on my first date — weeping that I'd ruined my life by abandoning my family was the Bernard Manning of aphrodisiacs. Or oversharing — in future I'll wait until date three or four, or maybe for ever, before divulging intimate details of my testicle-shrinking urinary- tract infection. Or, worse, multiple dating — total disaster. Juggling feelings for more than one person at the same time might thrill polyamorists — but to me it felt like injecting neat cortisol. Most importantly, I've realised that when dating you should just be yourself, as it's only a matter of time before digital fabrication comes back to haunt you. Women — and us men, too — just want honesty. If you're diminutive, don't say you're tall. If you've got children, don't pretend you haven't. If you support Arsenal, for God's sake keep it to yourself. And if you're looking for a one-night stand, just say so. It's better to be transparent from day one than to waste everyone's time and energy pretending you're looking for one thing, when in fact you want the opposite. 'AVALANCHE OF SEX' Honesty in any walk of life pays dividends, but in the smoke-and-mirrors underworld of dating apps — especially when you're a man in your forties of fifties — it could be the difference between love and loneliness. A friend said to me when I first posted my Bumble profile, post-separation, that I was about to experience 'an avalanche of sex'. He was entitled to his opinion — and I won't be sharing intimate details of any carnal conquests I may or may not have enjoyed. Suffice to say, apart from the extremely incompatible dates described above, I've met some fantastic people — some I'm still friends with, some I've ended up in relationships with, and others I connected with briefly before we decided to go our separate ways. The ghostings and breadcrumbings have been bruising — and being friend-zoned in a comedy club in front of hundreds was about as amusing as being trapped in Arsenal's stadium on a match day. But as a 54-year-old freelance journalist chained to my desk on my own all day, dating apps have connected me with people from all walks of life, who I'd probably never have met organically. They've also been inspiration for my first novel, Dog Days, which all being well will be unleashed on the wider world in the not-too-distant future. I just hope at least a few people choose to swipe right. 4
