I should be so lucky

Today I made the luckiest shot I have ever done. It was on the par 3 thirteenth; I hit my tee shot which flew off at a 45 degree angle to the right, cleared the trees, bounced on the road and over the hedge, bounced in the car park, over the fence guarding the fourteenth tee and into the flower bed by the club house. ‘How is that your luckiest shot?’ I hear you say. ‘It didn’t hit anything’, I reply, nothing, no car, no person, it didn’t even hit the clubhouse, especially not the window. I couldn’t believe my luck. I played another ball and finished on a 7, thus scoring no points. I had started the hole with a four point lead and I said to Ross ‘This is where I snatch defeat from the jaws of victory’. I suggested that I would score nothing and he would get a hole in one.  Ross had won the previous hole so he teed off. The ball flew straight towards the flag; from the tee it wasn’t possible to see the bottom of the flag, so as the ball headed for the flag it certainly looked like it was going in. The ball then reappeared rolling to the edge of the green. A birdie and we would tie. Ross hit a good putt but missed, finally making par and scoring 3 points. We weren’t playing any more holes, so I had won! 

We had played on Thursday and I couldn’t hit a thing. On the range I duffed every shot; not one went into the air, with any club! I wasn’t much better on the course; fortunately we only played the last 6 holes, although we played the thirteenth last.  Ross shot 10 shots less than me, winning every hole bar one. That one hole was the thirteenth; which we shared with a par each.  It just shows that you can never tell how well you are going to play. I managed a par on the sixth today; I’ve never made par before, last time I hit 5 tee shots! Next time, who knows?!

I have also been busy off the golf course this week.

Ross and Tracey, are selling her family estate. Unfortunately the grounds are overgrown somewhat and require clearing before the house will sell. Ross solicited my assistance in carrying out this task, and so we set to on the back garden with a brush cutter.  As we started cutting through the vegetation, a hitherto undiscovered species of hominid was found living in the undergrowth. They appeared to be making progress through the grass with what, for all the world, looked like gap wedges, or possibly pitching wedges.  They were also hitting very small white spheroid objects as they went, accompanied by a loud cry in their language; which we later managed to translate as ‘fore’. 

They didn’t seem best pleased as we cleared the area where their dead had been laid to rest. These were arranged so that family members would be buried in chambers next to each other. These chambers were laid out in a grid and were made of leather. Sitting down with them, over a flask of tea, we managed, via sign language, to discover much about them. They are a nomadic people who carry their dead around with them; this led us to classify them by their burial practice as ‘Golf bag’ people. Their clubs are used to help cut through the vegetation and also in hunting, by hitting the small white balls at their quarry. I did manage to pick up a couple of tips, especially on bunker shots, which I put into practice today.

On Tuesday I have an interview. The job is in Chichester and is permanent night shift, but it’s a job and looks very interesting. At least it will leave weekends free and I’ll be able to go to the football. I went yesterday, but we lost 1-0. It’s beginning to look like more of the same this season.

Never mind, I’ll be off to play golf again on Thursday. Hopefully I’ll get another lucky shot, this time for the right reasons.

Back's better, must be golf time.

John performed his usual miracle; my back didn’t hurt at all this morning (Saturday). This could mean only one thing….golf!

I dropped Michelle at work and headed off to the club. I went on the practice range and a short while later Ross turned up. I’d managed to get a tee time for 10.58, which as there was a competition on was lucky. I hit some really good shots on the range, practiced chipping and getting out of the bunker, and then we did some putting. I was doing well and this was worrying. It continued on the first two holes; they are par 5s and I took 6 shots on both, scoring 3 points on each. The third only yielded 1 point and I scored 2 on the fourth. Unfortunately the next 2 holes were Alexander Armstrong holes – pointless! 

Ross, on the other hand was playing a blinder. It didn’t start that way however. He managed to get to the green on the first hole in regulation but 4 putted. The second was worse, an 8, and the par 3 third ended up as a 6. After this though everything seemed to click; he finished the round with 7 holes in par, a score of 89 and a Stableford score of 40. In contrast I hit 121, which was 12 shots more than my last round, interestingly though I scored 25 points, only 1 less point than last time.

I only hit 3 bad tee shots; on the sixth, tenth and seventeenth holes. I say only 3, the sixth hole was a disaster and we didn’t count any of the 5 duffed tee shots. Four of them disappeared to the right and onto the railway line; the other went way left into the trees. I never found any of the balls, so I made a drop near where one went out of bounds and took a penalty. My final score was 10, but this was by no means the worst. The tenth was something which I would like to leave an indelible blank on my brain but will be forever etched I’m afraid. The duffed tee shot went 50 yards into nasty rough on the right and it took 2 shots to get out again. It took another 4 to get to the green; then the ice hockey gene took over and I finished on 14.  On the seventeenth I decided that, as my round was buggered anyway, the driver would come out. I haven’t used this in ages and it showed. The first two attempts went 50 yards up the left; the third homed in on the rough on the right. I took the original shot and actually managed a 2 over par 7 for the hole. I finished with 2 pars, no birdies but several squirrels, and unfortunately a couple of giraffes and wallabies.

Over all I didn’t play too badly; 25 points shows that, and if it wasn’t for 4 bad holes I could have been close to a score of 100. A little more care on my next round and then I’ll put a card in to try and get a handicap. That will mean I can play in the competitions. Now I know they are played off the back tees, which makes it harder, but having observed some of the guys playing to day I don’t think I’ll disgrace myself. 

The only trouble will be avoiding the wildlife; it’ll be more like playing in a safari park than on a golf course.

A Scotsman walked into a bar...

It is an immutable law of the universe that if you go into any pub or bar, at any time of the day, there will be a Scotsman in there. He may only be drinking coffee, but he will be there. I’m not sure if it’s different Scotsmen or one legendary man who has the ability to be in all bars at all times; destined to wander the planet for ever sometimes sober, sometimes not, striking up unintelligible conversations with the unwary.

 One such being was in the Wetherspoon’s in Chichester this morning. We had gone over so I could visit my chiropractor, John, to sort my back out. Once he has used ultrasound on the affected area and manipulated my spine like some piece of origami paper, we wandered along to said establishment for a coffee and some breakfast. Sat next to us was a gentleman who had purchased himself 2 pints of beer and had settled down to read the paper. It was ten past nine in the morning! Shortly, he was joined by the ubiquitous Scotsman and they chatted for some considerable time. Looking around I noticed many people enjoying their breakfast and among them many enjoying their liquid, alcoholic breakfast. Now I’m partial to a pint or 3 but at 9 o’clock in the morning?! This is a phenomenon I have noticed previously. In my previous job we would wander over to the local Wetherspoon’s for breakfast at weekends when the canteen was shut. We’d go in about 8 am but already there were people in there waiting for 9 o’clock when beer would be served. This happened on Saturday and Sunday and it was always the same people. Talking to the staff we discovered that there were 3 distinct sets of regulars; those that were in before 9am and stayed until about 1 pm, those who came in about 11am and stayed until about 5pm, and finally those who came in about 4 pm until closing time. 

On one occasion 4 of us had gone in for breakfast one Sunday morning and had chosen a table near the front windows. We were sitting eating when an old man came in, dressed in a suit, and carrying several carrier bags full of cigarettes. The pub is large and there weren’t many people in, but he made a point of sitting at the table right next to us, making sure his chair was right up against our table. He muttered a lot. I don’t know whether he was Scottish, but when he talked to the other regulars he was certainly unintelligible to us. This may have meant he was just a drunk South London local of course. When we got up to leave, he immediately moved, with a speed which belied his age, into one of our vacated seats. One of the guys was still in the act of standing. We must have committed the cardinal sin of occupying ‘his’ table, the one where he carried out his, presumably illegal, cigarette dealing.

It makes you think how easy it could have been to end up like our itinerant tobacco salesman. What brought him to this way of life and could it have been different? I like pubs, not the ones which seem prevalent today which are just filling stations for youngsters, but real ones which act as social centres, where people meet up and enjoy the company. These are rare now, most having been turned into gastro pubs or worse just to make a living. If I won the lottery I’d think about buying one and making it just the sort of place I like to drink in. 

Maybe I’d call it ‘The Ubiquitous Scotsman’ and have my own tartan.

Rain! Deep joy

It’s raining!

 All week it’s been gorgeous weather, hot and sunny, just right for knocking a small ball around the countryside. Today, however, is not the ideal conditions for ball whacking. There may also be thunderstorms, so that’s buggered up today’s golfings. I’m actually rather glad about this because last night I watered the garden (I know, I know. Why do that when rain is forecast? It hadn’t been done for a couple of days and was looking parched ok!) Anyway, as I put the hose away I felt a twinge in my lower back. All seemed ok, but then Michelle came home from running her Slimming World group and I emptied the car of all her stuff and put it away. Mistake! The twinge got slightly worse but not too bad. Overnight I got up to go for a call of nature. I could hardly get out of bed! I crept like an old man to the bathroom and back again. Every time I turned over my back sent a twinge of pain right down to my toes, out of the bed and escaped through the window. 

When I tried to get out of bed this morning, it took me 5 minutes to try and sit up, slide my legs over the side of the bed and stand.  Getting dressed was fun; I was sat on the bed trying to get my underpants on. It took several goes to get my foot high enough to lasso it with the correct leg of the pants. I then had to manoeuvre my other foot to catch the other leg hole. That done it was the turn of the socks. I haven’t been wearing socks lately, but as it was bogging it down I decided to wear shoes today. My pants were now round my thighs; it was too painful to stand up, so I had to draw my leg up as best I could to get the first sock on. Excruciating isn’t a word I use often but it seems appropriate at this point. By now the pain was getting adventurous and had headed off through the window and down the street. It would return. I just about managed with the first sock and had to repeat the procedure with the second. 

Now it was time to stand up, which was relatively painless. I hobbled over to my shorts and somehow managed to get them on. A t-shirt and shoes followed and I set off downstairs a tread at a time. I was able to make breakfast and check my emails, but standing up again was a 3 ring circus. Michelle rang the chiropractor and I have an appointment tomorrow, unfortunately it’s at 8.30 and in Chichester. Eventually I took a couple of anti-inflammatory tablets and put some freeze stuff on my back to ease the pain. This worked and I was able to drive Michelle into work and go to the bank for her. I even managed to go to the garage and clear the stuff out of the Peugeot as someone is coming to look at it today. I won’t get much for it but it might pay the garage bill.

I’ve made it home now and I’m sitting having a cup of coffee. I hope it rains all day; I’d hate it to clear up and miss the golf because of my back. 

Maybe I could send the pain to play; it can’t do any worse than me.

Seeing is Believing

Things have been a bit difficult of late, I’m unemployed and, as blogged previously, my car blew up. Michelle has been fantastic and has really helped to keep my spirits up. The other thing that’s helped has been the golf and this blog. I keep my mind off things by visualising hitting the perfect tee shot on all 18 holes at the club. I have moved onto other shots and putting but the putting lets me down; somehow, even in my imagination, I can’t make decent putts. I have sunk pretty good long putts on very rare occasions but mostly I’m rubbish; I don’t seem to be able to read the greens or judge how hard to hit the ball. This calls for some serious work, visualisation is all very well for the other parts of the game but for putting nothing beats hours of practice. 

I have decided to utilise my enforced period of inactivity to practice at the club when I can. I check for jobs every day but that only takes a couple of hours so it leaves plenty of time to bat a ball about the practice green. As Michelle works a couple of miles from the club, I can drop her off and then go practice for an hour or so. I can be home by 11.30-12 o’clock, leaving lots of time to surf the net for job.

I am also trying to re-build her website. She has recently signed a contract for a book deal, and I’m trying to tie her blog ‘Throw away your loincloth’ with a live feed into the website. This isn’t as easy as it first sounds. For experienced web designers it’s a piece of the proverbial, but for me using ancient software it’s not that simple. There is far more jargon than golf and picking it up is a bit of game. I am a ‘monkey see, monkey do’ kind of person, reading how to do things doesn’t always sink in. However if someone shows me, and allows me to do it for myself, I can pick up things very quickly. I do have to write things down though.

I did manage to find a way of getting the javascript for the feed and set up a style to appear on the web page. It isn’t perfect but it works, took me hours though! 

Does this approach apply to golf? Well, by reading some of the golfing magazines I have picked up some tips, especially from Butch Harman. I have also borrowed a copy of ‘Golf for Dummies’ which has been useful. Watching other people, although it can be informative, is difficult as I can’t switch my eyes into slow motion. This contrasts with my method of learning technical stuff. 

I am also reading ‘Dream On’ by John Richardson, in which he details his quest to go from scoring over 100 to scoring a par round in a year. It’s a very good book and one which resonates with me as I try to go from 140 to 100.  He gives some good tips on how to improve your game; these make sense to me as I don’t have the mindset of a club golfer, having only just taken the game up. The secret is practice and, more importantly, self-belief. This is an important lesson for life too; I have become very down due to unemployment and have lost my confidence due to only having one interview, and failing to get a second one. I have always suffered to a degree with a lack of self-belief, but I have always managed to get the job done so I must have some ability! Unfortunately these days, moving out of the industry you’ve been in for years is very difficult. I’m told that ‘You have transferable skills’ but alas no-one really wants transferable skills, they want experience within their own industry-or pieces of paper. Experience of similar kit is not enough; I have gained most of mine within the newspaper printing industry, but most of the jobs are in pharmaceuticals, food production and packaging or other FMCG industries.  

If visualisation helps with golf, then I’m going to apply it to job hunting. I will see the job I want in my email inbox tomorrow, I will apply and I will get a reply and an interview. The rest is then up to me.

If not I’ll go and play golf instead, I need the practice.

If found, please return to...

I have always liked ice hockey. As a kid I used to watch the Stanley Cup games shown on World of Sport and thought they were brilliant. I even thought about learning to play but it took me all my time to get round an ice rink holding onto the rail. I was never going to be a Wayne Gretzky.

Many years later I was working in Finland and was taken to a game. We were in Turku, and the local team, TPS, won the Finnish Championship that year. I have followed them since then. Michelle and I try to get over to Finland every year, mainly to Helsinki in January or February. We try and time it with a home game for Jokerit and go and watch the match. It’s a very quick and exciting sport and is much better watching it live at the stadium than on the telly.

This probably explains why today on the seventh hole I was knocking the ball around the green like an ice hockey puck to finish on 12. This is a par 5 hole and my previous three scores here were 5, 6 and 5. It was a complete disaster; the tee shot was hit well but went off to the right ending up in the rough and on a slope. I hit a wonderful 9 iron shot to the fairway, but my next shot was hit on the heel of my 3 wood so the ball headed off left along the ground for 20 yards and into the rough. I hit it out and over to the other side of the fairway. Shots 5, 6 and 7 made forward progress but that’s all you can say. The eighth shot made it to the back of the green and that’s where my latent ice hockey gene took over.

The round hadn’t started like that; in fact I scored my lowest ever score on the first hole with a 7. Ok the second wasn’t too good but I made a great connection on the tee shot; it just finished close to some trees and I had to try and go round them, with hilarious consequences. The next hole was a 158 yard par 3 and the contrast couldn’t have been more marked. My tee shot finished 6 feet from the hole and I sunk the putt. A birdie, a genuine birdie the first I had ever scored! Unfortunately as the ball fell into the hole with that delicious ‘plock plock’ noise it was followed, un-noticed, by my golf game which decided to stay there and bask in the glory of my achievement. It did miraculously reappear for one hole only before retirement to a bungalow in Eastbourne, on the eighth.

The third was my best hole but it was only a par 3, and so it saw my best tee shot and best putt; there was no approach shot. The eighth saw my best second shot. The hole is over 400 yards long and is a par 4. The tee shot was hit well, over the tree in the middle of the fairway but curved over to the right. It was sat on the first cut of rough but was about 250 yards from the green. It is actually a good place to be as it gives a better approach to the hole. Unfortunately the green was blind, the fairway sloped upwards for some distance and then drops away to the green. Ross checked for me and said that, although the previous group were on the green, it was a long way to the hole and it shouldn’t be a problem. Whilst Ross was wandering off to have a peek at the green I was furiously practicing the shot, managing to get my stance right. Once the all clear was given I played the shot. I used a three wood, which sent the ball high into the air in a straight line towards where I was aiming and it disappeared over the brow of the hill. Ross was dumbstruck! I had never hit a ball as well as that before! Ross lined up his second shot and I went forward to check the green. The chaps in front were just finishing off so I told Ross to wait. As they cleared the green I saw a ball left on there, about 25 feet from the flag. It was mine! I had hit the ball over 250 yards over a hill from a first cut of rough with a three wood. This was nothing short of a miracle. My golf had returned. I then worried that I may have hit them. Catching up later they said it was ok, the ball had rolled across the green to them. Ross put his second just over the back of the green; another almighty hit but this time with a 4 iron. I missed the first putt but sank the second for a par, net eagle. Ross also had a par for the hole. That was the last time I saw my golf today; I reported it missing and put up posters in the clubhouse. We only played the next two holes and I was back to being a mere mortal.

Reflecting on the game in the clubhouse, I took heart from the third and eighth holes and that I only duffed up 2 out of 10 tee shots. I’m improving but as a golfist I’m a passable ice hockey player.