Here Comes Da Judge!

 

SITWELL GOLF CLUB	https://sitwellgolfclub.com/
Type of course		18 holes	Par 71
Course distance	White 6176 yds	Yellow 5938 yds	Red 5483 yds
Holes	5 x Par 3	9 x Par 4	4 x Par 5
Played		Rating 69.5	Slope 131
Claim to Fame: Designed by Dr Alistair Mackenzie

 It has been said that the Judge is past his prime, that his days as a low handicapper are far behind him but not by me, I might add. For as everybody knows, I am a great fan of the joyful joker from Halifax. With the stature of Bobby Ball and the humour of Charlie Williams, what’s not to like?

Today’s Senior Open took place at Sitwell Park Golf Club. Teams on the day consisted of the Big Easy Brothers, the Doc and the Metronome, Handy and the Judge, me and the Beau and The C_ns_n_nt K_d +1. A fine turn out from our home club in Hull, all the way to the hills of Rotherham, plus the Big Easy’s bro’ from Hallamshire.

The entrance to Sitwell brings you directly into a sloping car park which partly obscures what appears to be an unedifying club house.  Walking round and down to the front of the building however reveals a broad balcony overlooking a marvellously manicured landscape.  The first tee set to the right of the building has a view to die for and would be considered the envy of many a golf course. In the distance traffic moves rapidly and often along the M1. The narrow putting green sits directly in front on a small escarpment and the practice net abuts the opposite side of the club house. Internally the bar and dining area are spacious, with an adjoining snooker room and conference room named after the original designer of the course, none other than Dr Alistair MacKenzie. On the day the main room was far from busy perhaps hinting at the lack of teams participating in this Senior Open Am Am.

As we warmed up, several putts rolled off the green and into the bushes below. Both the Doc and the Beau found themselves scrabbling around in the dirt. Was it a sign of things to come? Earlier while picking up our scorecards the Pro had told us the greens were fast!

The first a slight dog leg right, dropping off the top of the hill into the valley below is a par 4 at 351 yards SI 12. The first four were quickly off and our drives of varying degree saw me and the Beau’s second shots descend into bunkers, Handy not for the first time in his golfing career overshot the runway and the Judge was sitting pretty. The Judge parred, we didn’t.

Hole number 2, S I 6 at 395 yards is relatively straight forward, a dipping fairway, with out of bounds on the left and a  ditch in front of the rising green. The Beau bounded out, I hit the narrow ditch dangerously close to the OB, Handy went left and the Judge was once again plum. The Beau was out of it, the Judge and I went through the green and Handy went left. Returning to the green I double tap a poor chip and four putts later I am bereft. Handy went long and the Judge was spot on. The boy was doing good. Without saying so, some considered he would falter soon, I of course new he wouldn’t as I appreciate the woollen mill wonder.

Two holes down and he had bagged six points to our one.

The first par five of the day sees me and Handy grab a brace apiece.

The next two holes are again parred by the Judge. By the time we had reached the 8^th  tee the Judge had bagged five pars and was hot to the trot. So much for the doubting Thomas’s

Ever the modest introvert, the Judge walked off the 7^th green and whispered: “Have you ever seen a better player?”  A thoughtful response taking a nanosecond of thought followed “Yes. The Metronome, the Doc and many others.” At which point a little deflated but not deterred he sloped off to the 8^th tee.

It might appear from the scoring that the Judge was having it all his own way but this couldn’t be further from the truth, for as the Judge dropped a putt, Handy would quickly follow. Da Judge however was putting for fun.

Halfway round and the professional pair had bagged 22 points to our 16. The Beau was having one of those days that we would all rather forget. Was our Bromance from the previous game cooling or was he pining for yet another holiday abroad? Our success at Kenwick Park was now a rapidly fading memory.

Reaching the 12^th SI 17 at 120 yards the course website states; ‘This is a short testing par three requiring an accurate tee shot with bunkers awaiting short left and right of the tricky green. It’s uphill all the way, so don’t be fooled by the yardage, you need one or two clubs more than you think.’ Perhaps we should have read this before taking it on. With the pin positioned at the front, me, Handy and the Beau all come up short as our orbs roll back down the hill. Not so the Judge who hit the green. Short lobs, once again see Handy and the Beau come up short, I go three feet past the hole. The Judge putts out for yet another par, I gently stroke the ball towards the hole, narrowly missing the bullseye and  watch in disbelief as it rolls gently over the precipice.  Angry, no, apoplectic, yes.

Wandering the course it was interesting to observe three youths on push bikes riding the fairways. Always the professional, da Judge used some specialist language to convey his dismay to said  tearaways!

It should be noted, this course is not for the feint hearted and those of a certain age and physique could easily flag, perhaps that’s  why today’s field was small.

The back nine saw a reduction in pars for da Judge but a high percentage of bogeys.

While waiting to tee off at the 16^th, the Beau sat atop a sand box with a desolate face. Even a quick cuddle from yours truly did not bring him round. Da Judge was hoping for a lift home from someone other than da Judge, for he was in fear of an errant drive!

Climbing up the last hole at 422 yards, SI 3, par 4, da Judge finally buckled as he struggled from tee to green. Cue Handy to collect the necessary two points and as we putted out, it was clear da Judge still had  Northern Soul. Handy as ever lived up to his nom de plume, The Beau however appeared to be in mourning and as much as I had tried to motivate my partner, I lacked the basic skills to bring him out of his stupor. As to the others, the Big Easy Brothers had separated as quickly  as they had come together, Doc and the Metronome, The C_ns_n_nt K_d +1 had all faired well. Me and the Beau had nowhere near the previous week’s success.

 

As we sat on the veranda, overlooking the course and reviewing our games da Judge chose to celebrate his own success with an intestinal rendition of Vivaldi’s Concerto For Two Trumpets in E-flat major! What it lacked in tunefulness it made up for in volume and odour!

With 40 points da Judge and Handy were good enough to grab 5^th place and rather than me sum up da Judge’s day, I will leave it to Pigmeat Markham and the lyrics of his 1968 song ‘Here comes Da Judge’.

“Hear ye, hear ye, the court of swing

It's just about ready to do that thing
I don't want no tears, I don't want no lies
Above all, I don't want no alibis
This Judge is hip, and that ain't all

He'll give you time if you're big or small
All in line for this court is neat
Peace brother, here comes da Judge
Here comes da Judge”