Bill Elliott
Good news amigos, it turns out I can still play reasonable golf. Actually, for me, outstanding golf. I know you’ll all be pleased for me.
More accurately, it turns out that I can half-play the game decently. Here’s the way my latest round went... first nine holes, 12 points, some okay shots, some bad luck, some very poor stuff. All representative of my game over the last few months – not bad enough to give up, not good enough to make me believe in the swing changes the poor, befuddled soul who occasionally tries to coach me has suggested I make as I totter towards oblivion.
But here’s the thing, the BIG THING, about this round at the beautifully presented Hankley Common Golf Club in Surrey, which offers a heathland, sandy-soiled, linksy arena in which one may escape the hustle, the bustle and the ongoing confusion of life.
I knew it was terrific as I have played there several times before, but anticipation often beats participation – my wife will testify to this – and so it proved when I reached the halfway point. I was a bucketful of points behind my much younger companions and they had inevitably descended into what they thought was kind encouragement but which struck me as patronising. You know what I mean, it’s the cul-de-sac of emotion called “ah bless”, usually meant well but still carrying the underlying message when applied to an older bloke that what they are really thinking is “isn’t the doddering old fool doing well to be still walking fairly upright”.
To be fair, this perceived slight proved just the catalyst I needed. That and the extraordinary behaviour of a marshal on the 10th tee, who suggested we needed to speed up our play. As we were on the tee and the group behind was just appearing on the horizon while the ones in front were on the green, this seemed rather daft and I told him so. Still, bless him, he was even older than me so maybe he couldn’t see that far. Yes, I can be patronising myself on occasion.
Anyway, all the aforementioned served to snap me out of my walking coma. To put it simply, I pulled myself together, girded my loins and whacked easily my best drive of the day, followed by an excellent second shot and two putts for a consoling and encouraging par on the course’s stroke one hole.
Isn’t it astonishing what a couple of proper shots does to your confidence and inner Seve? I parred the next two and suddenly I was off and though not yet running, walking briskly and with purpose to shot after shot after shot. Instead of over-thinking what I was trying to do, rather than hearing my coach’s wise words in my head, I just did what he had been trying to get me to do. As ever, carefree, instinctive, trustyourself golf worked. It felt good. I felt younger. You don’t have to play your best golf to enjoy the game but, crikey, it does help.
And so – wait for it at the back – after that frustratingly awful front nine I came back with 23 points and, yes, it could, should, have been more with just a little more luck on greens so pure they almost offered a religious experience.
If there is a lesson to be learned from this topsy-turvy round it is this: never give up, never give in, just relax and try to express yourself to the best of your ability. Of course, whether I can plug into this mantra next time out remains to be seen. I don’t wish to over-egg my sudden transformation but, hell, why not. It was the best sustained burst of golf I’ve enjoyed for a few years and if you feel I am rather boasting about it, then you’re damn right. The old game kicks us all hard somewhere soft often enough, so a man should celebrate when he manages to grab it by the scruff of its neck and force it into some kind of submission.
I know it will get me back sooner rather than later but I now know also that tucked away somewhere deep is my inner golfer, the one who used to come out and play quite often. I feared that this player had scarpered but he hasn’t. He was just resting for a few years, probably giggling while he did so.
Now he’s back I’m determined to keep him alive and well and paying attention. Wish me luck.
“The old game kicks us all hard somewhere soft often enough”