REFLECT AND MOVE ON

 

Even though I had good intentions to write a blog at the end of 2020, it has been almost 3 months since I last put fingertip to keyboard. In times gone by the New Year would have seen me wax lyrical about my rare success and multiple failures on the golf course, however, as I develop my prose it appears to be centred more on the calamity, pandemonium, sickness, disease and disaster that has been 2020. The fact that as a country we are placed yet again into another lockdown doesn’t help my mood much either. Bozo closed down amateur sport across England, including Golf and as ever cited the Science, whereas the ever over cautious Nicola Sturgeon telt the Caledonian clans to keep the heid, the wee game could carry orn in Bonny Scortland!

As we hurtled headlong into Lockdown 3 “No Return” and watched between yet more box set gorging, the death rate for a developed country, thunder to the top of the European League Table, I dinnae ken how Bozo J gets it right every time and others get it so wrong! Please note heavy irony here.

Is Lockdown 3 as bad as Lockdown 1? I am unsure, but must admit that at one point in April 2020, I like others, thought as the superstore shelves emptied overnight of my favourite two ply, I would never again be able to wipe my derriere on the soft, fragrant tissue that is Cushelle. The thought of having to resort to old scorecards dangling off a piece of knotted twine did not appeal to me, particularly as the cards have sharp edges and are not particularly absorbent. Even Izal would have been a better choice. Indeed, I could have resorted to the Ancient Roman tradition of shared sponges on a stick, kept in a bucket of salt water but that didn’t really appeal either.

Thankfully, this time round, the toilet paper, pasta eating oligarchs of 9 months prior, were still trying to offload their manmade mountains and “normal” suppliers were able to provide the necessary ‘gsm’ required by the nation.

As to golf, well, the minimum time we had between lockdown 2, tier 3, tier 4 and lockdown 3, didn’t see me play much. Alas, the weather in December wasn’t particularly conducive, unless of course you were a duck! Boggy, sodden, wet was the order of the day. Carry bags, compulsory, regardless of age. The medical condition veto was acceptable, only just and then the arctic weather hit. Crisp, cold and frosty which sounds like the monikers of the guys who make up a four ball with me.

Due to demand, the regular Wednesday morning tee time saw many a keen and enthusiastic golfer turn up promptly, regardless of temperature or humidity.

One memorable game in early December saw me and THE METRONOME team up with a 17 year old young buck, with his Dad, and at least five others following on.  As ever, with new people stood at the tee box, the first always provides onlookers with an impression, falsely or otherwise, as to your golfing prowess. THE METRONOME never disappoints and finds the middle of the fairway. I am happy with my departure, although as I set up I do comment to the babbling masses, as to how quiet it has become. As the regulars raise their eyes to the grey sky above, a respectful titter permeates from those who do not know me. Up next the young buck and he strikes one off the peg. To say it disappears into the early morning gloom would be an understatement. It makes my regular partner BOOM BOOM look like a hacker. On this 496 yard par 5 his second hits the back of the green, and the 29 handicapper three puts! I have a feeling we could be in the money!

As I am slowly learning however golfing prowess should not be judged on just one hole, and as we settle to the round it became a little clearer as to why 29 was the order of the day. YOUNG BUCK was erratic, but boy could he hit a ball. If only I had an ounce of his potential, I would be more than happy. To cut a long story short however, we came out on top and were happy to take the accolades if not the cash.

Being first away we were waiting some time for the others to come in and pay their dues, so a decision was made to go for another few holes. YOUNG BUCK chose not to continue and waited dutifully for his father, as we desperate seekers of eternal youth once again sneaked into the tee times and fired off across the soggy fairways. By the time we had reached the 3^rd, the 3^rd three ball were driving their vehicles down the accompanying side road and waving their fond farewells. THE METRONOME inquisitive as to the success or otherwise of the last three ball waived down one of the combatants to discover that we had indeed won on the day and that the winnings had been deposited with YOUNG BUCK! And that my friends was the last we ever saw of him and the cash! I hope he slept well that night as he reflected on the Kings Ransom of £6 deposited in his high interest, National Geographic Glow In the Dark Piggy Bank account?

Another memorable game that took place in December saw me, BOOM BOOM and Matthew, who from here on in will be referred to as THE FITTER, take place at Hainsworth Park, Brandesburton, I have for some time been of the mind to provide Matthew with a nom de plume that encompasses not only his previous working role but also his reaction as an amateur footballer to men dressed in black, whose decision he may not agree with, and so THE FITTER it is!

An 11.40 am midweek start at THE FITTER’S old haunting ground saw the track in fine fettle. The club website advertise a course that is extremely well drained offering year round excellent playing conditions, without temporary tees or green and trolleys never banned! The latter of which is of benefit to THE FITTER because he isn’t the agile midfield dynamo he once was.

Not surprisingly it was another busy day with fully booked tee slots and we arrived early in the hope that we could sneak in before our allotted time but to no avail, as 2, 3 and 4 balls continually snaked their way across the practice range to the first. I must say the course had held up particularly well against repetitive downpours and was a credit to the green keeping staff.

As we waited, the quality intermittent golfer, was introduced to the WHS and given the same handicap as me on the day. Again, this belies his true ability and like a curate’s egg he played to such a high standard most of the time and then as low as a worm’s belly at others.

The game, as I have become used to, had its usual few ups and many downs. THE FITTER started well, dipped in the middle and came back fighting at the end. I started satisfactorily, peaked now and then and finished abysmally, however I persevered, as invariably my partners do with me! BOOM BOOM started badly with wayward right-hand drives (I think he's starting to lose it you know, but we’ll keep that to ourselves) but as ever recovered quickly and finished very strongly. On the day the spoils went to THE FITTER but because we hadn’t agreed ‘purse’ prior to departure he went home with a couple of screws and bolts in his pocket, leaving the nuts in the car park!

The final game played before Lockdown 3 “No Return” saw six of us head out on a frosty Wednesday morning to our partner course at Skidby Lakes. A course shorter in length and significantly easier than our normal Wednesday venue, yet containing quick, tricky greens nestled against water hazards. The chalk board situated outside the club shop indicated one hole closed, all greens temporary, as were the tees and of course it went without saying that the bunkers were GUR. KRYTEN, THE ROMANTIC and me were pitted against THE METRONOME, THE BUILDER and the squat stocky one who has graced us with his presence on a number of occasions now.

As we teed off in the sub-zero temperatures all players were layered up to the nines, in the hope that they could prevent the creeping cold from seeping into their very core. Something which the majority fail to succeed in doing, but that is due more the march of time, rather than the conditions on the day!

The temporary changes to the course caused the average par 3 to become pitch and putt, a number of par 4’s reduced to par 3’s however the par 5’s remained more or less intact. Hard, pitted ground on temporary greens is not conducive to quality golf, nevertheless we all persevered and to sum up, our three ball returned cold, muddy, wet but successful. By his own admission however, a certain member of the team had not pulled his weight and on this rare occasion, it wasn’t me. Perhaps this was my 2020 unique success spoken about earlier in the blog. One of our three had not reacted to the beat of the drum and clearly had his mind on other things, however, looking at the images of some of his recent contacts it couldn’t have been them! “I was shite” said the Burnley Beau as he reflected openly on his performance and nobody jumped to his defence, indeed KRYTEN his good buddy concurred whole heartedly “Yes, you were shite!” he said.

So, what do avid golfers do in Lockdown 3 “No Return”?

The now triannual petition demanding the reinstatement of golf, above and beyond any other amateur sport is dutifully ticked off early and to no avail.

The clubs, shoes and golfing paraphernalia are cleaned within a week of the announcement and immediately mothballed.

Virtually page turning of Amazon Shopping, American Golf, Go Golf and The One Golf Shop, wanes over time as we look for the real bargain that rarely exists.

We nod off to dreams of Sunday Drivers or better still trips abroad, that involve golf, alcohol and general bonhomie.

We look forward to the PGA and European Tours that encompass four days of non-stop viewing on Sky, much to the distaste of the non-playing partner who prefers Bridgerton, or some such romantic bodice ripper.

How about we participate in the Fantasy Golf Race To Dubai only to quickly discover that after competition one, the chances of coming back and winning, from a position of 13387 are pretty slim.

So, via social media we send numerous memes to each other covering a wealth of subjects ranging in scope from politics to pornography with a smattering of golf.

Or. with a couple of balls and an iron secreted down your trouser leg, you head for a course built on common land and knock a few off!

Not quite what the Burnley Beau had in mind but it’s as near as he will get to it at the moment!

Therefore, until we meet again dear friends, stay safe, keep your distance and don’t wear out the hall carpet practising your putting.