James Corrigan: Isn't it time we took women's sport seriously?

Unlike the rest of society, young football hacks have yet to leave the dark ages

The golf journalist, advanced in years but, alas, not in enlightenment, was in full rant last week about the pointlessness of the European Seniors Tour. "It's not real golf is it? I mean, it's just like women's golf - just not real."

The golf journalist, advanced in years but, alas, not in enlightenment, was in full rant last week about the pointlessness of the European Seniors Tour. "It's not real golf is it? I mean, it's just like women's golf - just not real."

The female in his company nodded with a sigh, although it must have been severely tempting as a single-figure handicapper to rattle the old stick. "Come on then, Colonel Blimp," she might well have ventured. "Let's put your generalised load of crap to the test, shall we? Let's find out who the real golfer is here."

And after ramming home that blessed point, she might well have beseeched him to take a tour around England this week and join one of the unprecedented multitudes watching women playing their "not real" football; or to Edgbaston to join the navel-gazers focusing on Maria Sharapova playing her "not real" tennis; or even further afield, all the way to Maryland if he could bear it, to see Annika Sorenstam playing her "not real" golf.

Now, that Sorenstam truly is "unreal". The world number one - women's rankings, naturally - can think of nothing less appealing than displaying her unique talents to spectators who are merely there to compare her with the men. She is sick to her six-packed stomach of this sniggering, mischievous practice that, more than any other, continues to hold back women's sport.

As she sits at the press conference tomorrow to preview this week's LPGA Championship - the second of the four majors and the next step on the Swede's unashamed trail to her historic "Soren-slam" - she will be waiting with certainty for the question that will begin with that word, "Tiger". When it comes, the 34-year-old will respond, "Yes", to whichever journalist whose turn it is to ask: "Tiger Woods, does he inspire you?" But inside, she will be screaming: "No, why the hell should he?" For despite sharing a manager with Woods, and as well as being something of a soul partner to the 29-year-old who will be going for his own second major of the season in next week's US Open, Sorenstam is known to feel more than a tad bitter about golf's irresistible comparison.

"What must really piss Annika off," a woman professional told me the other week, "is that it's always Tiger inspiring Annika and never the other way around. But just look at their results this year. Up to this week, Annika has won four of the six tournaments she has played, and the first major by eight shots. Tiger has won three out of 10, and his first major in a play-off. Now the men will claim it's easier to win on the women's tour, but how come, because nobody was doing it before Annika came along? So why is it always Tiger inspiring her? Because she's a woman and therefore she's inferior. Purely and simply."

Such frustration was what led to Sorenstam somewhat unwisely accepting an invitation to play on a men's event last year, where she crashed out to the ecstasy of all but a few of her male competitors, not to mention every single stuffy clubhouse throughout the "civilised" world.

"I think she really regrets it now," said the female pro. "She gave them the excuse to compare and ultimately to demean everything she's done with damning praise like 'She was so brave to try'. I doubt whether she'll ever do it again. I guess she's going to leave all that rubbish about taking on and beating the men to the others and just get on with being what she is - the best woman golfer ever."

But should that be enough to satisfy either Sorenstam or her critics? Well yes, it certainly should: as Sorenstam discovered, there is nothing but discredit in comparison between genders. That is the sharpest tool in the sports sexist's armoury and it will be in full, glinting view in England in the next fortnight, as eight footballing nations do battle for the women's European Championship. Get ready, however, for that daft comparison once more to overshadow serious competition.

Because there is no sport, except perhaps rugby, where the differences are so pronounced and, to the dinosaurs, so comical. In yesterday's Independent On Sunday, the fiery England international Faye White fell into the trap of the sporting theory of relativity by analysing whether she could ever be described as "the female Roy Keane". Unsurprisingly, she rejected that notion - well, who wouldn't? - but only later did the Arsenal defender come up with the logic that should always deflect such nonsense. "Women's football must be seen as a game in its own right," she wrote. "It might have the same rules, but it's totally different to men's. The two just can't compete."

But compete they will - not so much in the stands, which were bursting with a record crowd of 30,000 at the City of Manchester Stadium for England's opener against Finland last night, but depressingly, in the dusty press boxes. Unlike the rest of society, indeed the rest of their colleagues, young football hacks have yet to leave the dark ages populated by their infamous predecessors.

As evidence, Andy is a football reporter on The Sun who has barely reached 30. When asked last week for his views on the success of Euro 2005, the women's version, he came up with this priceless gem of considered wisdom. "Women's football is blossoming, but will it ever outstrip shopping as a girl's favourite way to spend a Saturday afternoon? That's the question." Fortunately, Andy wasn't kind enough to give us the answer.

j.corrigan@independent.co.uk