STYMIED

Having recovered from my wind swept sojourn to the Isle of Man, I returned to my home club in the hope that the experience had been valuable and that I would continue to develop as an average golfer on any course that would accept me.
 

Only a matter of weeks ago I hit a purple patch which saw me knocking 7 under my handicap on two consecutive days. The first a three ball at my home club with some new buddies and the second at Ganstead with Nigel. The three ball was part of a six man group that I have in some peculiar way become attached to, so rather than go round on my own every Wednesday, I am now part of a larger group, courtesy of an invite from James to join his mates on a regular outing. The first time I participated was less than satisfactory as my new found chums made a quick assessment of my capacity to play the game, when my opening tee shot hooked left and rebounded solidly off a wide trunk.  Going around with a player who has a handicap of 10 is a particularly sobering experience as the individual concerned hits the ball metronomically. What is good however, is that the gentleman in question also chooses not to stick his high level of ability down your throat. He does not attempt to give advice or tell you what to do, in fact, all he does is congratulate you when your shot is a good one.   Perhaps he is a true gent and is just waiting for me to ask as I falter on the fairway or fall short on the green. To me it appears the higher handicappers in life (what I would call mid-range) appear to be the ones that know best! Determined to do better the following week I vowed to keep my head down, have a slow back swing and drive smoothly through the ball. Thankfully this happened and I contributed to our in house competition of betterball where two out of three scores counted. I was rewarded handsomely at the end of the game with no less than £1. Woohoo, in the money and loving the game. Jim also urged me to put my card in on the day, as the opposition would be more than happy to see my handicap drop down and if I’m honest, so was I.

 In the past at this point in the proceedings I would have carried on playing, internally fuming and cursing allowing my limited game to unravel like a ball of wool in the hands of an elderly grandma, who suddenly discovers she had dropped a stitch, in the grandson’s knitted Christmas sweater.

Today however was different as I girded my loins and attempted to pull myself together, it also helped that Nigel wasn’t playing up to his usual high standard either. The phrase “Girded my loins” may be lost on the youth of today therefore for the uninitiated, in Biblical times when someone was to "gird up their loins," they were to do so in preparation to run, fight, or do hard labour. The act itself involved bending over, grabbing the rear hem of your tunic from between your legs and drawing it through and up to your belt where you would neatly tuck it in. thereby allowing greater freedom of movement and perhaps also developing the notion of pants!

By the time we reached the 10^th tee it was all square.

The homeward nine was in stark contrast to the outward nine where in some respects I had been hanging on for dear life. With the par 3 10^th and the par 4 11^th both navigated in regulation I was not only in the game but also two up. Nigel then found a bit of form and by the end of the 14^th I was one down. Crossing over the main road to the 15^th, I was probably of the opinion that the game would soon be over as the final two holes were par 5 and benefitted Nigel’s game. Thankfully I bagged the 15^th and 16^th only to lose the 17^th. Dormie one then and whatever happened I couldn’t lose. As it was, I started as I finished, with a par 5 and the whole was shared. For the second day running, I was a winner, with a decent score under my girded belt!

Fast forward a week and not only does my game once again falter but also the world and its citizens go to hell in a handcart.  I will not dwell on the Coronavirus (Covid 19) and its impact on the nations of the world, I will say however that amateur golf escaped the worst of it, until countries were locked down.

How then did amateur golf survive for so long? 1. After teeing off social distance was the norm. 2. Flag posts stayed in the hole. 3. Rakes were removed from bunkers and continue to be GUR 4. Hole cups were raised 2 cm out of the ground removing the need to touch the cup. 5. Congratulatory handshakes at the end of the game were not compulsory and if anything were replaced by elbow nudges. 6. Fresh air, was as it is now, beneficial, if you kept your distance.

For me that was all easy and not wanting to make light of it, I do believe the concept of social distancing was developed by me long before it became compulsory for the nation.

So, the world is stymied in more ways than one. That is unless you live in Antarctica which as I type is currently unaffected by this deadly virus. A virus that is possibly a wakeup call for humanity. Will we in months and years to come realise how precious our time on this planet is and who is to say that the next pandemic will not wipe us out completely? I would ask you to consider what happened to the last species that dominated the earth some 65 million years ago? Perhaps the same fate will befall the dinosaurs that populate it now!