AND DID THOSE FEET (get wet) (Halifax Golf Club)

 

Halifax Golf Club	https://www.halifaxgolfclub.co.uk/
Type of course	Moorland	18 holes	Par 70
Course distance	White 6132 yds	Yellow 5740 yds	Red 5233 yds
Holes	5 x Par 3	11 x Par 4	2 x Par 5
Played:	26/05/22
Claim to Fame: Around 1912 changes were made to the course by Dr Alistair McKenzie, the man who designed Augusta National!

 Quiz question.

What do the cost of living and my handicap have in common?

Answer.

They are both spiralling out of control, unchecked! 

The next question you would all want to ask is, why is this happening? Surely, a high handicapper, with a semblance of hand eye coordination couldn’t possibly go any higher?

Don’t be fooled my friends, it’s easily done. The introduction of the ‘All England Golf App’ sees results entered differently in this day and age. No longer the need for a home club competition, with additional payment, not when you can just go to the app, get a partner to attest the score and bingo, your score is inputted, or is that shafted?

As ever in golf there is an acceptance that a high level of moral certitude exists amongst those playing. Unlike a recent story I overheard. It appears a player participating in the monthly medal had a disaster early in his round but wanted to carry on playing. His buddies on the course agreed  he could card a double bogey and continue. Having completed the round, he presents the card and low and behold wins the division competition. Now I am no golf expert but that my friends, is moral turpitude of the highest degree, or if you like, downright cheating, made worse by the corroboration of others.

Truly, the Judge should be called upon to pass sentence on such individuals and throw the PGA book at the offender and his henchmen.

Problem is the Halifax Hangman currently has his own problems, as he is suffering the same trials and tribulations that I am.

Many moons ago, in the throes of a wet, windy day on the winter tees, said Judge suggested that Team Wednesday take a trip over the border and participate in his ex-clubs Senior BB. Sat huddled in our club house with hands wrapped around warming lattes, nods of approval were given. Hurrah shouted the many and to see the nightlife of Halifax, a few considered a stopover, with the opportunity of playing the following day.

Two evenings pass and eight names are placed in the hat, as the Judge and the Right Honourable Mrs Judge perform over the kitchen table.

Four pairs are drawn.

The Beau and Handy

The Metronome and the Judge

The Builder and the Bandit

and the Wormburner and Kryton.

Many place the date in their electronic diaries, a few make note in their mini filo faxes and the odd luddite uses slate board and chalk hung on the kitchen wall.

Instantly forgotten about, said eight, continue their golfing journeys of enlightenment .

To ensure many a pound is banked in pro shops across the country, the Builder and the Bandit unlock the local competitions.

The Metronome continues to do what he does, with his usual je ne sais quoa.

The Burnley Beau, courtesy of Handy Andy and partner, finds true love, and his game returns to the fruitful years of the young buck, who once hit a blind tee shot at the 9^th and recorded a hole in one. I don’t think he’s ever told anyone about that you know!

Kryton continues to forge forward with his high level of professionalism, confidentiality and ball searching addiction.

Handy has continued to pocket the pounds, regardless of the handicap he is given and me and the Judge, well the less said the better.

As Halifax rears up on the horizon, a late change is made to the team. The Beau, having returned from 4 days golfing in Portugal is struck down by the dreaded Omicron and is quickly replaced by the Consonant Kid, wh ls hvng rtrned frm 4 dys n Prtgl s mcrn fr.

With the form they were in, Team Bandit were odds on favourites. Team Handy with quality scores under his belt and the late replacement of the Consonant Kid were forecast to run them a close second. Team Metronome, courtesy of the Judge had the added benefit of home knowledge and would undoubtedly be up there somewhere and then there was Team Kryton (me and him).

Coming off the M62 and travelling through the metropolitan borough of Calderdale the sat nav’ takes you through Black Dyke Mills, the hamlet of Mountain and down Perseverance Road. With views of Bradford to die for, the journey would have been much more enjoyable, if only you could have seen them through the gathering  gloom.

Mountain’s claim to fame is, that while driving at night on the road from Queensbury to Halifax, Percy Shaw noticed his car headlights reflected from the eyes of a cat, an observation which led to the invention of "Cat's Eyes" , the "self-cleaning" reflective studs embedded in roads which are used all over the world and made Percy Shaw his fortune.  See I don’t care what others say, some good things have come out of Halifax.

 As the car rose through the valley, the hope of playing above the cloud cover was quickly dismissed as the gloom became gloomier.

Taking a tight bend off the A629, a drive down the single-track road that is Union Lane, brings you to the entrance of Halifax Golf Course. Here we are met by the Judge, who having returned to his heart land, serenades us all with his rendition of “And Did Those Feet”.  Lyrics of which were very apt on the day.

Halifax Golf Course, opened in 1895 and is situated 5 miles north of the city, in the hamlet of Ogden, from which it acquires its local name.

Gathering in the club house for a buttie and cuppa, the banter is jovial as last to arrive is the Consonant Kid, wh brvly ntrd th fry n hs shrts!

The view from the clubhouse window, over what would normally be pleasant pastures seen, has a similar outlook to that of the clubhouse itself. It is dull, tired, and in need of brightening up. A look round the facilities reveal the oak beamed Great Hall is getting a lick of paint, as I would suggest should happen sooner rather than later to the bar, snooker room and locker room facilities.

With the weather unrelenting, we step out early and as we dress accordingly, once again the dulcet tones of the Judge are heard with his own rendering of  “in ancient times” .

Varying titfers are adorned, the dappiest of all being the Builder’s Pro quip bucket hat that resembles a trawlerman’s sow wester. The Judge is adorned in balaclava, peaked cap and bobble hat. Did he know something we didn’t? The Bandit always looking for the positives in the weather, douses himself in suntan cream, or was it a water-resistant skin barrier, used to prevent chafing? It was hard to tell.

As the bridge leading to the first tee was under repair, we take a more circuitous walk up to England’s mountains green. Just as the wind and rain rise to a new level of wet.

The first four sort themselves out and all drives, like arrows of desire, appear to find the fairway. The 18^th fairway that is, as the 1^st and 18^th share a broad expanse. We are next to go and all drive well, the Builder, clearly a man of principal, choosing to take on the appropriate fairway. As we head down towards the 1^st green, the Judge appears to have  divorced himself from his teammates, is this local knowledge coming to the fore? There is a deep desire to keep these four in sight, as who knows where we could end up.

On the green the Bandit and the Builder adopting the language of the true professional, instantly bonding, as they discuss, line, length and pace. To listen in, it’s as if they have done this many times before and are not here just for a game. Like the delta variant of yester year, the win bug is strong in these two and they are off with a 3 pointer, Kryton grabbing 2 for us.

The 2^nd at 117 yards, SI 15, is a cheeky par 3 designed by Dr Alistair McKenzie of Augusta fame and comes with a 20-foot elevated green. Again, the builder bags 2 and I get 2 for us after shamefully three putting.

The 3^rd  SI 9, 355 yard par 4, sees you fire off a raised tee over a ditch on to a heavy sloping fairway which runs away from the green. All perform well but some better than others.

The 4^th SI 3, 421 yard par 4, sees you return from whence you came this time crossing two deep watercourses. Here I come unstuck as my second disappears into the long stuff and the long stuff is not only long but it’s also very deep. Any ball not hitting the fairway on this course will be lost. Indeed, the Judge has related a story previously where he once lost 14 balls. Thankfully I was suitably stocked for such an eventuality.

The 5^th, SI 1 a 350 yard par 4, again crosses ditches and after a less than satisfactory shot off the tee my second bounces off the red marker and is lost once again! The Bandit hits water, Kryton hits the long stuff and the Builder continues to build his consistency.

The 6^th SI 11 at 345 yards, once again sees the Judge divorced from the rest of the group, which begs the question, is it local knowledge or is he trying to beat the 14 ball record. I know that I’ll be running him a close second. This hole is my zenith. Kryton knocks one over the drystone wall (an oxymoron if I have ever come across one) into the deep rough, I hit the fairway as do the other two. The Builder is on in two and I hit the smallest of bunkers protecting the green. Recent escapades in this area of golf haven’t boded well for me here but today I wisely practice before entering the sandy ditch and thankfully get a positive result. One putt and I have a 3-point par. The Builder however has birdied for 4 points. Like the wind and rain this duo are unrelenting.

The 7th at 117 yards SI 17 is an uninteresting par 3, however club choice is important as the wind and rain smash you in the face. Bogey for me and I forget what the others get as the rain begins to enter through the so-called waterproofs.

At the turn we have 17 points, B and B have 22, they are flying with their bows of burning gold but at least we are making a fist of it.

That is until we have no returns on the next three holes. Kryton had lost his concentration and if it hadn’t been for the fear of getting lost on the moor, he would have been off hunting balls.

I lost what little swing I had and with water seeping into bodily crevices that it should never be in. we had sadly ceased from the mental fight

The halfway house that sits on the side of the moor reminded me of a Scottish bothy, respite for the lost soul of the lonely rambler. The thought of a peat fired hearth providing warmth and dryness was all too appealing.

At the 11^th par 3, 333 yard SI 10, the Builder noted the rain had momentarily ceased and that, clouds unfolding, may become a reality. Having only the gale force wind to contend with, B and B were bringing out their spears and in the distance, we could see the glass like surface of Ogden reservoir sitting atop the hamlet of Mixenden.

Sadly, the break in the clouds was a short lived respite and before you knew it the stair rods closed in with a vengeance not felt before, it was harder and wetter! The waterproofs began to release the soap suds from many a wash and for those who wore spectacles, the self-cleaning glass certainly wasn’t doing it for them.

At this point in time my memory begins to fade as I yearn to be warm and dry rather than play golf. My drives had gone to shit and Kryton summed up our experience well, “What the hell are we doing here?” he said. A good question indeed. The Bandit did suggest that if we were ever again asked to play in Halifax, we could always tell the Judge where to go. The dark satanic mills had won the day.

The back nine allowed B and B to continue there unrelenting dominance of golf opens in the north. A team in unison as they coached, cajoled and comforted each other, whereas Kryton and myself were left adrift in a sea of melancholy. The rain was now of Biblical proportions and showed no signs of dissipating.

Having just come down the par 5 15^th, SI 8, with the wind and rain at our backs, to turn into the 16^th SI 2 with its biting wind and razor-sharp raindrops was almost too much too bear. Eyes were squinted as many begged for the mountain rescue to come and lead us down off the moor.

With the clubhouse now in sight we came across the course signature hole. The 17^th at 163 yards has a 60 foot drop into the valley below. Normally an iron shot, for this par 3, but not today, as the Metronome frantically waves from below indicating a driver is required. The rain hurtles horizontally as we all wait patiently for the Consonant Kid, t msr hs sht, for the nearest the hole competition.

At the 18^th  SI 6, 419 yard par 4, we could see the Judge was once again left to forge his own path home. Undoubtedly a silent protest from those he had forced to undertake a four-hour ramble across Ovenden Moor in the name of golf!

The 18^th was hurriedly navigated and in the club house after the game, hands wrapped around a frothing pint of ale,  score cards were shared and compared. A slight error of judgement on the back nine caused the Bandit to despair at the inadequacies of those around him but thankfully the minor damage was repaired and he and the Builder were able to depart the day on their Chariots of Fire as they once again won a tournament. As forecast the Consonant Kid and Handy came in joint second, the Metronome and the Judge languished mid table and me and Kryton saw ourselves lifted off the bottom slot by a team who didn’t complete the course. Thank heaven for small mercies.

While the oldest swingers in town discussed their forthcoming night of debauchery and real ale drinking, others drove home in different states of attire. The Consonant Kid once again, dnnd hs shrts, the Metronome rode off in his Calvin Klein boxers and I went two hours damp, down the M62.

The Builder and the Bandit departed on their Chariot of Fire but only after they celebrated with a curry, was it the Lamb of God?

As to the golf ball count, I didn’t hit the heady heights of 14 but probably wasn’t far off, the Builder however showed his true prowess as he proudly returned with the same ball. A true Yorkshireman.

The 18^th as ever restored my faith in the game of golf and so until the next time, I will not cease the mental fight, that is golf.

Now let us if finish as we started with a quiz question. How many times did I refer to the hymn in this narrative? A pint for the winner.