MAN OF FILEY

Having bounced back from several disappointments recently, I had been buoyed by my recent experience at Douglas GC, Isle of Man and strangely enough was looking forward to the Filey Senior Open Am Am. Teams had been drawn many moons ago and with the late withdrawal of the Judge, the Beau quickly stepped into his golfing loafers.

Teams of four on the day were as follows Beau, Bandit, Kryton and Doc aka Builder. Metronome, Handy, Consonant Kid and my goodself.

Kryton, who is only confident with long distance driving if it includes a golf ball, had  offered to give the Consonant Kid a lift and having circumnavigated Filey via York and Staxton Hill with an hour or so to spare, the Kid was raring to go.

His choice of clothing however was questionable, shorts on Filey Brigg in early May is not to be recommended as the chilly North wind whistles up the  trouser leg. He soon changed into the  latest designer golfing gear donning his hoodie of eternal youth.

As we gathered in the clubhouse, Kryton was feeling good. He considered his team to be the A team of Cottingham and was looking forward to watching the Bandit and the Builder  sweep away all that came before them, for as we all know these guys know how to win. Now the understated Beau was also cooking on gas and Kryton was so confident of success he wanted a £1 on the game. They were certainly hot contenders.

As to our team, Handy had just returned from a super-hot holiday in the Canaries and having been burnt badly in the noon day sun, had blisters where no blisters had been before. To ensure he was fit for today’s game he requested that his good lady take a hypodermic needle and release the pressure on the blisters! A view of his leg exposed a surface resembling an OS map of the Outer Hebrides, rugged and rough.

The Metronome in his designer Ray Charles sunglasses was his usual tidy self.

Having missed the usual Tuesday evening lesson with the Cott’ Pro’ I was happy to hit the Filey fairways with a comfortable drive developed in Douglas.  No fresh ideas re stance or grip occupied my thoughts, I was determined to hit straight and contribute where I could.

As we warmed up with a few putts on the practice ground, an old friend of the Beau made himself known. Manny the man, the Beau’s 80’s wingman from the Bierkeller chose to take a walk with his old compadre and the A team as they meandered the course.

The Bierkeller, an early hit of the late 70’s, allegedly resembled the drinking establishments of Germany. Long benches, cheap meat feasts, steins of weak lager, buxom serving wenches and an Oompah Band nattily dressed in Lederhosen what wasn’t there to love. If by the end of the night you weren’t stood on the benches slopping copious amounts of beer over your neighbours, then you were nobody. On departure the signs of  a good night adorned the sidewalk.

Having been given the lowdown for the competition from the starter we were first to fly. The sun was shining, a fresh breeze blew off the North Sea  and four fine drives found their way up the slope, I felt today was going to be a good day.

Second shot in the bunker, maybe not, but to no avail, Handy and the Metronome ensured no points were dropped.

Second hole, the wind catches the drives but even with a not-so-great shot from the rough, the Consonant Kid and I keep us t_ck_ng _v_r. The Kid claiming his first birdie of the day!

Hole 3 and I join the twos club with a birdie 4 pointer.

At the 5^th the Kid birdies again, he truly is a man of mystery, he has suffered over the winter at the hands of Race to Yinji but today he was racing ahead of one and all.

As the round progressed my high handicap started to pay dividends as it brought in several 3 pointers where others could only score 2 if not 1. I had my uses after all, that is as along as nobody told me I had two shots. If announced at the tee I am prone to cock up and that is an advantage to no one. Thankfully the team caught on quickly and chose not to announce any forthcoming 2 shot advantage holes.

At the halfway stage the A Team appeared over the horizon and had that hang dog look of the 1940’s iconic basset hound, Droopy!

The Bandit with imminent Grandpappy status hanging over his head, perhaps lacked a bit of focus. The Doc a little over golfed seemed to struggle with his oft overthought action. Kryton on the other hand was often off left and the Beau had probably spent too much time reminiscing with Filey’s answer to Joey Essex!

Usually at the halfway stage, banter and scores are exchanged and today was no different however the Metronome suggested we did not reveal our score of 47 points for the front nine and with the man of mystery firing from both hips it seemed the right thing to do.

 In the team, three out of our four were marking cards and we were double and triple checking as we went along. The Metronome did on occasion have an issue as he confused gross and points scores and had to be checked as he tried to dock the Kid and myself. I’m sure it was only a faux pas but as the kid said, “Don’t take it away from us, we earned that!”

The 10^th at Filey is one of its more appealing holes, downhill all the way and surrounded by water. This held no fear for Handy as he joined the birdie club and along with the Kid’s par, we had 7 points in the bag.

The next three holes although not particularly difficult saw average points gained. Were we starting to lose our advantage, fear not, above average points were gained from the 14^th onwards and as we walked away from the 15^th tee, the Beau mimicked our procession. Little did he know we were on the march with the ‘Metronome’s Militia’ and to cap it off our glorious leader birdies the hole. We are now a complete flock.

The short par 3 16^th SI 18 was a bit of a nadir for us as we struggled to score and only came away with 3 points. Nevertheless, as the chill wind began to infiltrate the layers, we ran in a back nine of 44. 

91 in total was a good score in any one’s eye but would it be good enough?

Kryton’s A team hadn’t done so well and with great umbrage he handed over £1 to his travel companion.

What then was the secret to the Kid’s super success? Fiddling, forgetfulness, flatulence! None of these, the answer. Apricots. The Beau’s worst nightmare was consumed on a regular basis and allowed the Kid’s golfing juices to flow. His putts were as true as a Dreamer’s kitchen top, he was one with his Rogue Driver and his irons peaked and troughed like a palpating heartbeat. He was that North Sea Superhero,

Man OF Filey!

The following day the Metronome revealed via Whats app that we had won, £240 of vouchers to be shared between four. My first ever cash prize and golf win in a competitive arena.

Wow, it felt good but as every footballer knows you can’t get a win without your teammates and on this occasion that was very true.

A good day indeed.