It started with an email in early 2011. “I don’t know what it is like in your country, sir,” wrote angry of Arizona. “But here in America we SPIT!!!”

The penny eventually dropped. Ewen Murray’s commentary on Sky Sports about Tiger Woods emptying his mouth on a putting surface in Dubai triggered a reaction fired directly towards Ewan Murray of the Guardian. Murray of Sky fame can still recall it.

“Tiger spat on the green with three groups playing behind him,” Ewen says. “I remember my words. ‘For a person who is an inspiration, not just to golfers but to everyone, there are times when he is arrogant and disrespectful.’ I switched the mic off straight away. I knew there would be trouble. But if I don’t say anything, people close to me are going to ask why I didn’t comment.

“There was no bigger supporter of Tiger than me but the email you got, I got an awful lot more of ‘Who the hell are you to tell …’ I wasn’t telling, I was only saying it wasn’t acceptable.”

Months later, at the Scottish Open, I explained the email episode to Ewen. He was concerned at the impact of this tirade on me. My response related to my ongoing coverage of Scottish football, a domain where even mild opinion fuels abuse. Water, duck’s back.

Fast forward to 2026 and we are together again, this time in the Open Championship’s media centre. “If only we knew,” says Ewen. Indeed. If only we knew.

It is coincidental enough for two individuals whose names are one letter apart to work in media coverage of the same sport. Freakish in this instance is that we both joined Twitter in October 2010. Before long, confusion reigned. We may be almost three decades apart in age and of totally different stock – Ewen a former professional golfer who competed in the Open, me an erratic amateur – but social media criticism (plus the odd element of praise) intended for Sky’s esteemed commentator flew this way. Lots and lots of it.

My response was to fight fire with fire in an alter ego; to take on the canteen commandos in a manner that is considerably more pretentious than Ewen in reality. The man himself soon roared with approval.

“I think if you don’t have humour in life; and let’s face it, there isn’t much nowadays … ” he says. “Laughter is the best medicine. I have found it all very funny and everyone I have spoken to about it is the same. What I should have been doing is answering some more of the messages meant for you but the trouble was the language was so bad. People just Google the name. ‘That’s him, there he is, Ewan Murray!’

“Some of your answers are very, very funny. Darren Clarke had tears coming out of his eyes when I showed him a few of them. He used to collapse with laughter. ‘Look what he has written now.’ Something about buggers upstairs not paying you properly, sinking stiff gins and dancing on the table. People started looking forward to the next one. I certainly do.”

Just for clarity: “I don’t drink stiff gin any more. And I found dancing on tables was bad for the hamstrings.”

There have been high-profile victims. Mick Fitzgerald, the famed jockey, praised my television commentary on a recent major. Rory McIlroy sought me out mid-round at the 2018 Open having been so tickled that a multiple world champion in another sport (who shall remain nameless) asserted, “you’re not Ewen Murray” when we first met.

Other moments have flirted with danger. One punter threatened to seek me out in a public house close to Hoylake after some Ewan/Ewen antics during the Open of 2023. “He was going to find me,” Ewen says. “If people don’t find it funny, if people take offence to that, I think they have a major problem. It’s actually quite lucky to have this because so many people are involved; the players, the fans, the press, the TV. Because it is funny.

“If I say something wrong on air, I know what is coming to you. You get the brunt of it but you also get the joy of answering them. ‘Do you know how many Opens I have played in? I have played with Arnold Palmer, you know.’” He is spurting with laughter once more.

This frivolity is a mere footnote on Ewen’s rich career. He combines commentary skill with an unrivalled, intense knowledge of golf and its courses. Now 71, he is still going strong in the booth and intends to do so for some time.

Ewen’s time in broadcasting began almost by accident in 1990, after an executive at Emirates airlines called a professional’s shop in Sussex looking to offer Brian Barnes the gig at the second edition of the Desert Classic. “I said, ‘I’ll do it,’” Ewen says. “That was the start, a two-minute phone call. They sent me an air ticket and £500. I was lucky in that I had just finished playing so I knew all the players. I knew their strengths, their weaknesses and their characters. I still have the tapes.”

He had lost his European Tour card a year earlier. Ewen’s confidence, primarily on the greens, had left him. “Too much negativity,” he says of his mindset. “When I was a kid, it was the other way round. I would dream then about hitting shots and they were all good shots. As I got older, that changed. I could see the end coming; then there was a big problem. What do you do now?”

He left home in Edinburgh at 18 for an assistant professional’s job at Walton Heath. “I sat on the bed and thought ‘What the hell have I done?’ I had no car. My wage was £5 a week, my digs was £5 for the week.” Teaching, playing, commentating. A life in golf was colourful enough before online mischief-making. Not that all condemnation is swatted aside.

“I ignore it unless I think they might be right,” Ewen says. “Constructive criticism is vital in life. I haven’t had it too bad, though. Nowhere near as bad as you.” Long may it continue.