A Golfers Tale

Matamata Chronicle - - News -

I have only been awake for two min­utes and al­ready my feet have hit the floor, one cur­tain pulled to check that the weather man was cor­rect. This early morn­ing en­thu­si­asm means only one thing, it is Satur­day and it’s golf day, even the dog knows there will be no walk with the boss this morn­ing. Break­fast and a quick flick at the morn­ing rag fol­lowed by the au­to­matic self check list- phone, glasses, wal­let and in the boot – clubs, shoes, socks. To the cheery sounds of “hat? sun­screen?, and, have a good day”, it’s off down the drive. Cruis­ing through town and al­ready the cof­fee machines are in ac­tion, the bike club is head­ing out and fit­ness pro­grams are be­ing im­ple­mented. Springs Road the long straight be­fore the golf club and “great” it is clear, foot hard down for 5 sec­onds and feel the old wagon grunt­ing un­der the strain. Down Silk Road, pre­tend to be a real golfer by check­ing the pin place­ment on 4, 1 and 10. Al­ready there are fa­mil­iar cars in the car park. The early golfers- the dew sweep­ers, are head­ing down the first. Out of the car, al­ready can feel the sun burn­ing off the mist and early cloud, it is go­ing to be a cracker. Up to the starter’s win­dow to pay the $7 to en­ter the scram­ble and get put in a play­ing four. Check to see who you are play­ing with, it could be any­one, the age range is huge, the abil­ity dif­fer­en­tial wide, it doesn’t mat­ter, the hand­i­cap sys­tem means a scratch player can have a great match with or against a basher. All sorted and its off to the putting green to get a “feel” of the sur­face, the green’s staff have been out early and the greens are freshly mown and rolled, they are go­ing to be quicker than nor­mal. Soon the starter is on the mi­cro­phone and I am called to the first tee. Wan­der ca­su­ally over and try to ig­nore that you are a lit­tle ner­vous about the first shot. Some­one tosses four balls in the air and my play­ing part­ner for the day is found, cards are swapped, a coin is tossed and I mut­ter the re­as­sur­ing words of “don’t worry we will slaugh­ter them” to my new mate. You take the front nine I tell him as the fi rst prac­tice swing with the driver feels aw­ful. I am last to tee off, the first three drives are right, left and mid­dle. I try to re­lax, af­ter all, this is what I have been wait­ing for, no, dream­ing about, all week. Four hours later and we are sit­ting in the club­house with cleans­ing ale, a pie, and a bit of ban­ter. The three putts, sliced drive and duffed chip are fad­ing into dis­tant me­mory. For the record, we shook hands on the sev­en­teenth and they buy the first round, I played two un­der the hand­i­cap and should re­ceive a ball or two in the scram­ble prize giv­ing. It’s been a great day; I feel my golf is coming right, bor­der­ing on bril­liant in fact. I know I am delu­sional but al­ready I just can’t wait till next Satur­day.

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