What to wear?

Dress code forms an important part of golf. This was one of the things which put me off for years. The libertarian in me saw no reason why I couldn’t go round in a pair of jeans and a T shirt. Having finally set foot on a golf course; both public and private club, I have changed my mind somewhat. Watching complete idiots hacking their way round, beer bellies hanging out over their slightly too small cargo shorts has convinced me that some decorum and sartorial savvy is required. 

What should a chap wear to his golf club of choice? As I have become more mature in years and watched a sad decline in standards in this country, I have been drawn to that most eloquent defender of all things British and proper, The Chap magazine.  I haven’t been brave enough myself to purchase a fine pair of brogues and some tweeds but they are strangely appealing but I don’t really want to end up looking like Bertie Wooster. The problem with tweed is that the colours are fixed with urine and smelling like an old folk’s home doesn’t go down well in the club house, especially with some of the older members who might suddenly have panic attacks and head for the car park.

Are there any other styles I can adopt? I am reliably informed that there are some who apparently dress like Pancho Villa, in a large sombrero, bandoliers, chaps, boots and spurs. I haven't seen anyone dressed in such a manner but I look forward to it, although it wouldn’t suit me as I can’t ride a horse. I wonder if there are any dressed as pirates? 

What am I left with? My libertarian side has been told that a certain Mr John Daly has an interesting collection in golfist apparel; this gives scope for both being a rebel and a conformist at the same time and if that doesn’t cause a dichotomy then I’m Jack Nicklaus. Having seen some of this, ahem, let’s say colourful attire, I think you would have to be a jolly good golfer to wear it. 

Should I go for the designer golf gear? It would make look like a real golfer but far too expensive. For me then it’s a pair of M&S trousers and a polo shirt from George at Asda. Not exactly chap attire but it does for me. I can now go onto the course and into the club house knowing I’m not going to send any committee members into apoplexy.

I also have my club sweater, complete with logo, oh yes I really look the part; now all I need to do is to learn to talk tosh in the bar. Actually I can do that already it’s just a different subject.  Ross and I have already had some banter in the clubhouse. On the way out I was sure I could hear jangling and was that a horse I saw tied up in the car park?

All weather golfing

The weather had turned.

 Yesterday was lovely and sunny; today the wind got up from the west and blew in the clouds and with them the rain. However, I had promised to play a few holes with Ross and so at half past six he turned up. I put my clubs, trolley and waterproof jacket in the back of his van and we set off. Fifteen minutes later we were in the car park of the golf club. It had rained on the way up but here it was a light drizzle. There were only three other vehicles in the car park; looking around we could see one other golfist and he was practicing his putting.  

The fourteenth tee is right next to the car park so we decided to play the last five holes. Just as we moved to the tee, the wind got up and the rain started. Ho hum, well we there now so we were going to play any way.

 My tee shot made it just passed the ladies tee and that was with a following gale. Five shots later I was on the green. It looked like this round would carry on from the last one. The fifteenth was not much better. I tried a couple of tee shots as the first went virtually at right angles heading towards the sixteenth tee where the fairway fairies decided they rather liked my shiny yellow ball. We moved onto the sixteenth. Both of us managed to only hit the ball 20 yards to the left; straight into the rough. Things were looking bad so we hit off another couple of balls. As we set off we noticed another couple of idiots heading to the fifteenth green. We had thought we would be the only people out in this weather but it would appear that insanity is an optional extra with every set of clubs.

We finished the hole with a couple of impressive chip ins and putts and then set off for the seventh tee as our fellow lunatics had moved on to the seventeenth.  

We played the next four holes, each worse than the last as far as I was concerned. The weather, however, had picked up and so we dried out; except for my trousers which were soaked due to the intrepid exploration of the long rough looking for my ball. I didn’t find any balls but there was plenty of evidence of a lost civilisation.

Today was good practice for me; an excellent lesson in how not to play golf. It did give me a good idea what I was doing wrong and I can’t wait until next time so I can test my theory.

Back on the bike

Yesterday I played golf. 

Actually it is probably more correct to say that I walked round a golf course with a set of clubs. To say I played like a muppet is an understatement; I played like Stadtler and Waldorf! 

This was in stark contrast to Thursday evening. Ross and I went out at seven in the evening for a few holes before the light faded. I actually beat him by 1 stroke on the final hole. This was the thirteenth and is a par three. I hit a wonderful tee shot to within 18 inches of the hole and sank that putt for my first ever birdie! Woohoo a birdie! I’m not sure what sort but it could have been a Green Woodpecker as there are plenty living on the course. In fact there is a great deal of wildlife around, in common with most golf courses I should think. 

There are rabbits and most definitely foxes; I may not have actually seen a fox but the remains of a rabbit leg on the 12^th tee box was a bit of a giveaway. That got me thinking, if below par is named after birds then why can’t above par shots be named after the local wildlife. So one over par could be a squirrel, two could be a rabbit and three over a hare. This would be good for me because at the end of the round I should have a fairly impressive menagerie on my card.

Yesterday’s round consisted mainly of elephants, giraffes and a couple of wallabies, animals not normally found in the Hampshire countryside; although wallabies have been seen in the neighbouring counties of Dorset and West Sussex. How can I play so well one day and the next so appallingly? After the first three holes I was heading for sixty over par and it went downhill from there on. To be fair I did hit one or two good shots but overall I think I would have been better off knocking the ball around with a stick of celery. 

What to do now? If you fall off a bike the best thing to do, once you’ve recovered, is to get back on; the same applies to golf, if you have a bad round get back out on the course as soon as possible and that is precisely what I’ll do. Tomorrow evening it’s off to the club I go to batter a few ball balls up the practice range and into the hedge and then to play 5 holes to exorcise my demons. Actually it will probably be exercise my demons because they could do with getting some weight off.

The trick is not to lose composure; yes it was disappointing to play badly but there is always the next hole, then the next, then the next. You have to keep some perspective after all it’s only a game! I’m fairly sure most places could form a synchronised club hurling team. In fact maybe it should be an Olympic sport, with various disciplines; synchronisation, longest distance for a seven iron and quickest time to bend an entire set of clubs. 

So now I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, remember my lessons and enjoy the great outdoors. Who knows, I might even get another birdie; it’ll be a crow and it’ll steal my ball.

On joining a club and taking lessons.

Since joining my club (oh I DO like to say ‘My Club’), I have taken some lessons. Starting from a very low base I have now proceeded to slightly above poor. I can hit the ball, most of the time, from the practice mat and have even managed to get the ball to go straight, but it’s inconsistent and I have a habit of falling backwards. My teacher is brilliant, he explains what I need to do and I understand perfectly. Unfortunately my arms and legs don’t understand. To be fair I have progressed; first I learnt how to stand and be balanced, then I moved on to ‘the finish’. Now at the end of the swing I look like a professional golfer with the club behind me and staring into the distance to see where the ball has landed. A perfect picture spoilt, alas, by the minor technicality of the ball going about 20 yards and to the right but I do look good. Next was breathing, the idea being that if you exhale just before you take a swing the club has less of an arc to swing through, which in my case is some considerable distance. This has all helped and I have put it into practice on the course and if it wasn’t for the ball I would have excellent rounds. 

There is one area where I have some success and that is putting. Getting used to smooth grass instead of potholed concrete took a bit of doing but I eventually got the hang of it. My style doesn’t really conform to any golf manual but it works for me. I still have disasters, usually after spending 10 shots to get to the green and completely losing all concentration but by and large I can usually get the ball in the hole with 2 putts, or 3 max. This has been most encouraging especially when sinking a 35 foot putt without even a practice shot.  It’s little victories like this that keep you going, indeed being able to reach the green at all is a victory in itself. 

The good thing about belonging to a club is the ability to go and play at virtually any time you want to. There are times when it’s difficult; for instance when there are competitions but generally if you turn up you can fit in somewhere even if it’s not at the first hole. We’ve even been able to turn up on a Saturday and get straight out. My experience of playing municipal courses is one of being too crowded and feeling rushed because there are people behind catching up. We let people through of course but it’s a bit much finishing after someone who started 3 hours after you! This is not conducive to learning to play better as you tend to rush your shots and end up playing more than you would if left to your own devices. Ross doesn’t have this problem as a golfist of many years standing and actually has a handicap, these days ME. He’s very patient and encouraging and is leading me astray. Playing at My Club (there I go again, it sounds sooo good) means no pressure to hurry up; there have been many occasions when the nearest people behind us have been 5 or 6 holes back. This means if you don’t like the shot you can put another ball down and have another go; as we’re not counting score it doesn’t matter but it helps me to learn which club to use, how to play off different lies and of course exaggerating my prowess. All this is very useful for the 19^th hole where I am on the verge of winning The Open, in my head. 

Speaking of ‘in my head’ this is where the art of golf lies; it is all ‘in the head’. If you get the head right then after that it’s merely a case of mechanics. The good thing about learning at my age is that I’m not trying to hammer the ball into orbit just get it a bit nearer the hole;  as long as the mechanics are right the ball should go roughly in the right direction. I checked my ego in at the door some years ago when playing rugby; an ageing prop has no chance of catching a 19 year old winger so more subtle methods are required. The same applies to golf; I can’t out drive a youngster so why bother trying, just play it straight and rely on the putting. Actually I’ve only played a couple of youngsters so I really haven’t a clue what I’m talking about; that’s a perfect qualification for the 19^th hole or Westminster.

What can golf actually give me, apart from a massive inferiority complex?  Remarkably it actually gives me a sense of calm. How does that work? I hear you ask. Well it takes me away from ‘normal’ life all I have to think about is the golf, the countryside and talking absolute bollocks. Well I do the last one already but you know what I mean. The only other thing that really calms me and empties my head of all worries is flying my power kites. In some ways it’s very similar to golf; first what happens is down to you. You have to judge the wind speed and direction, get it wrong and you can fall flat on your face, literally; Secondly, when you’re concentrating on keeping the kite in the air all day to day thoughts are gone; Thirdly, both sports take place in generally beautiful locations. They also both knacker you, though kite flying has the edge on that.

Golf lessons are all very well, but the only way to really learn is to practice, practice, and practice. Getting to play is always difficult, life tends to get in the way, but since it was my wife who encouraged me to write about the golf this has given me a good excuse, all in the name of research.

My research so far has taught me that small white balls have a mind of their own (other colours are equally obstinate), golf clubs can sometimes travel further than the ball and that golf balls can hide in plain view. Are they covered in stealth paint? How do they do it? You watch the little buggers, you see where they land and when you get there they’re gone. Now, either they learnt camouflage from the SAS or the golf fairies are out and about. Somewhere there is a massive, multi-coloured pile of golf balls which are distributed every now and again. You’ll be walking along with nothing in sight and then there’ll be a golf ball in front of you. Where did it come from? It’s not yours, it’s right in the middle of the fairway (that’s a giveaway as to why it isn’t yours) and there is no-one on a parallel hole looking for it. It has to be fairies. These elusive creatures are possibly annoyed that their space has been invaded or they’re dressed in garish shirts and trousers and carry small bags holding teeny weeny golf clubs. These mischievous little folk have other tricks up their polo shirt sleeves. You’ll hit a fabulous approach shot and see it land on the green close to the flag and when you get there it has miraculously disappeared and can be found resting nicely up against the front edge of the bunker. There is also a sound of strange ethereal sniggering in the air.

The good thing is the fairies are definitely outdoor types who don’t venture inside. This means there’s no danger of being shown up when you get into the clubhouse bar. All your shots were perfect, no lost balls and if you didn’t land right next to the pin you sank a very long, left to right then right to left, uphill, downhill, round the corner, through the windmill putt.

Talking tosh is one thing golfists need no lessons in; apparently it comes free with every new set of balls.

Thoughts of a reluctant golfist

I never thought I’d ever say this, in fact even now I have my teeth firmly gritted and the words are fighting to get out.  Fortunately for the words I have one or two gaps and so they can work their way…I like golf...out; oh bugger there they are, they’ve slipped through.  Yes ok I admit it, I DO like golf! It’s a revelation, almost a Damascene conversion; I have finally gone over to the dark side.

I have always thought golf to be an old man’s game and was as one with Mark Twain in that it was a good walk spoilt. I did enjoy watching it on TV as a kid, with likes of Jack Nicklaus, Lee Trevino, Tony Jacklin and all the other greats. I enjoyed the commentary of Peter Alliss on the BBC but as for playing it, no I much preferred football, rugby and cricket; the only time I would wield a golf bat was on the crazy golf course. In later years I used to say to golfists that my home course was the one in Padstow with the pyramid and the impossible one with the hole in the middle of a mound.

Padstow is our family’s favourite place; we try and holiday there at least once a year.  It has a great beach, great places to eat and 6 fantastic pubs.  It’s crowning glory as far as my kids are concerned however, is the crazy golf course. Sometimes we would have to play twice a day and with 5 of us that was almost as expensive as the real thing. We have developed our own rules and cheating is not only allowed, it’s compulsory.  The kids are much older now and one of them doesn’t come with us anymore so we only play twice in the week but we all break par, aided by judicious use of feet, restarts and repositioning.

Now, however, I am playing the real thing on real golf courses and not cheating (much).  This is my wife’s fault really; she has always wanted to play but has never had the chance.  One day, about 2 years ago, we were chatting to our friend Ross, a fanatical golfer, and he said we could pick up a starter set of clubs for £50 each on the net and it wasn’t that expensive to play anymore as the courses were desperate to get the punters in. Michelle said it would be a great idea as it would be exercise and something we could do together away from the kids. After much persuasion we had a quick look on line and 10 minutes later I was £100 lighter and the clubs were in the post. We also ordered a couple of trolleys and then went off and bought a couple of pairs of shoes.

The clubs duly arrived a couple of days later and we arranged with Ross to go and play at the club where he was a member. It was a beautiful day spent tacking down the fairway, well rough to either side actually, and aimlessly knocking the ball around the green until it finally dropped in the hole. You would have thought that all that crazy golf would have made the putting a breeze but believe me grass behaves way differently to concrete especially when trying to miss the gouges.

One day led to another and then another, I still wasn’t hooked but I did enjoy the days out with Michelle. I also liked the driving range with automatic feed to the tee and the electronic height setting, oooh I do like a good gadget. We even took our middle son out with us and we found that the Xbox (other gaming platforms are available) was actually useful, it has made his hand eye co-ordination very good and so he picked it up quickly, albeit with a tendency to swing the club like a hockey stick. This was a left over from his childhood when he managed to whack Michelle in the mouth within half an hour of arriving in Padstow, and I had to take her to Truro hospital for emergency treatment.

Unfortunately Michelle developed a problem with a tendon in her left foot and has found it impossible to walk in flat golf shoes, she needs heels and until we can find some high heel golf shoes she can’t play. This has meant I have had to play with Ross and sometimes another friend.

My interest was picking up and I started using golfing terms such as tee, putter, and triple bogey.
 I started going more but it was getting expensive to play more than a couple of times a month. At this point Ross’s club membership was about to expire; he wasn’t happy where he was and wanted to change. This brought opportunities to get free, yes FREE, rounds of golf. We would ring up a club where we hadn’t played and said we were thinking of joining so they would offer us a free round, woohoo!  Now at this juncture, I should point out that golf clubs were one of the reasons I didn’t like golf. As an outsider they seemed to be cliquey sorts of places full of crusty Colonels and were more like the Masons at play. Once we had used up all our goodwill within a 40 mile radius we actually found a club we liked about 10 miles up the road and we put in our applications to join. Being such fine fellows, dontcha know, we breezed the interview with the club captain, also a fine fellow, handed over the readies and were presented with our bag tags, club diary and copy of the rules of golf. We were members and could play anytime we wanted.

One of the reasons we chose the club we did was that it was very close to where Michelle works, so I could drop her off about 9.30 and then carry on to the club; alternatively I could play a round and then pick her up from work on the way home.  This seemed a very sensible arrangement to me. After a couple of weeks I had a little stroll round the course, not losing too many balls, and decided to purchase a club sweater from the shop.  Thus my transformation was complete, from oik in jeans and a T shirt who thought golf courses were the work of the devil, to a smart trousered, polo shirted golfist who still thinks golf courses are the works of the devil.  I proudly wore my sweater as I went to pick up Michelle from work.  As she got in the car and was about to tell me about her day, she noticed the sweater with the golf club crest.  ‘Who are you and what have you done with my husband?!’ she exclaimed.  ‘I bet you never thought you’d never see the day I wore one of these’ I sniggered.  Much pointing out of my previous opinions followed…!  I will say in my defence however, that I am consistent in my inconsistencies; I said I hated bright colours and would never buy a yellow motorbike and ended up buying the biggest, yellowest bike I could find.

I have caught the bug; I try and play at least once a week and being a member don’t feel I have to play the full round. Being at a club also means that the course isn’t crowded and you don’t feel pressurised in making your shots.  I have also had lessons and can actually hit the ball now.  By golfing standards I AM an old man now… well  judging by what they said about Tom Watson at the 2009 open being old at 59 and even V J Singh being old at 49, 49!!, I’m 49 it’s a wonder I can still walk unaided at my great age.

I no longer think of golf as a good walk spoilt, I now know it’s a good walk bloody ruined.