A Golfers Tale
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.