There were three ways to get to play Royal Birkdale when Tommy Fleetwood was a kid growing up in Southport. One was to stump up hundreds in visitors’ green fees, another was to get invited as the guest of a friendly member, and the last was to be proposed, seconded and vetted and pay a few thousands in dues to become a member yourself. Or you could do what Fleetwood did and cut south along the beach from Southport, past the posh houses on the south side of town, then hop the fence that runs along the back of the 5th fairway.
“I did it once or twice,” Fleetwood said with a blush this week. “It wasn’t like every day.”
