TARDINESS PART TWO

 

BEVERLEY

A lot has happened in the world since I last blogged. Rory McIlroy has won the Masters and become one of only six people to complete the grand slam of golf. On the political stage Donald J Trump has introduced the world to the art of the deal, shite or otherwise. Keir Starmer has introduced us to the ‘Coalition of the Willing’ and the  Judge has had a triple heart bypass!

Said colleague from our ‘Coalition of the Willing’ had spent two winter months abroad and was looking forward to a summer of fine golf.

Two games back and he, me and the Big Easy venture out in the first Senior open of the season. Playing off the whites, the driver had recovered its intelligence, the Big Easy continued to perform and the Judge intended to take his time. Annual fees were due and the latter was considering a change of club. Beverley was in his sights.

I have blogged about Beverley before but in a nutshell the course is played on the Westwood which is awash with cows, dog walkers and picnickers.

Although none of us won on the day,  the golf was sound and any issues arising were not down to our performance . Take for instance the 10^th, as we walked off the green the Big Easy looked forward to his mid game smorgasbord, a delicate fusion of ham, bread and butter awaited his fine palate. Prior to putting he had balanced said sandwich on his bag thus allowing it to breathe. The sight that awaited him however was one straight out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Unbeknownst to us all, the birds had been watching his every move. Devastation, the sandwich bag had been torn asunder and the contents splayed across the 11^th tee. The bile rose and seeing a few crows nearby the mild mannered marvel had murder in his eyes. He threw a rather expensive golf ball (given to him by his brother as a birthday present) at said avian foe. To add insult to injury he missed the target, the birds flew off and the ball was never seen again.

At the par 5 15^th as we were about to tee off a pair of dog walkers chose to cut across the  fairway. As we waited patiently for them to pass one individual decided to sit down and feed the dog, much to our (my) derision. An exchange of words then took place across the void until said dog owner walked off into the bushes accusing me of brusqueness. Me brusque, surely not, I wander if they ever worked for me?

During the round the Judge had discussed with us a few health issues he had experienced while on holiday and he had also struggled with the some of the hills that Beverley has to offer. We therefore suggested that this may not be the course for him. Little did we know what would occur two days later,

Once again, taking time to traverse Skidby Lakes the Judge had one of his finest moments. The 11^th par 4, SI 9, at 355 yards is a beast of a hole. Downhill, fairway sloping left to right, a lake at the bottom, followed by a rise to the green and a shallow bunker on the right.  His first lands well, his second flies over the lake and disappears into the hole. An EAGLE, observed by the Metronome and the Big Easy, so it must have happened. With a doctor’s  appointment later in the day the loquacious lad was feeling good about himself and undoubtedly a magic elixir would sort him out. Sure enough before you knew it, he was blue lighted to the cardiac unit of the local hospital!

Who would have thought an eagle at the 11^th could have this effect.

A triple bypass was required, leaving him with a chest scar as long as the M6, from Littlehampton to Cockermouth.  Within 5 days he was out of hospital and recuperating at home. Was this due to the advances in modern science or that he had repeatedly reiterated his eagle story to anyone who was willing to listen and enough was enough.

AWAY DAYS

As summer arrives competitions start to come thick and fast and there is a need for us golfers to put in score cards ensuring an accurate assessment of our skill level.

Local opens on a Saturday can be used to enable members who have reduced from 7 to 5 days to still participate on a weekend and at only £15 entry fee it really is a no brainer, that is if the other half is happy for you to participate. In the case of the C_ns_n_nt K_d this is never an issue. This elder statesmanhas a wife we all dream of, a keen golfer herself she can often be seen winning competitions both home and abroad with or without the K_d.

As a group of aging golfers with varying skill sets it is still enjoyable to try something different and thankfully on our behalf the Metronome scours the internet for the best competitions in the vicinity. Something we should be eternally grateful to him for but we don’t ever tell him. With my good lady having shelved the responsibility for selecting teams, the draw process was briefly handed over to an online team generator, which brought up some very interesting results. The Metronome seemed to get Kryton in every draw, AI at its best. Consideration is now being given to an equal distribution of players, ensuring everyone gets a turn to compete with everyone else, that is unless you’re the Big Easy and the Doc, who are inseparable. Unless of course the Doc, goes on one of his many jaunts abroad.

The other issue we must contend with is the late withdrawal of team members, due to last minute holiday bookings, altered appointments or just plain unforeseen circumstances.

The Metronome knows that throughout the season people will come and go and fillers need to be put in place. Now a triple heart bypass may be considered a shoddy excuse by some, whereas my inability to arrange a visit to the Isle of Man around our first open at Filey is clearly acceptable.

 

ISLE OF MAN

So it was I took off to the Isle of Man in the hope that I would play the 8^th and final course on this 221 square mile island. The most northerly course is that of Ramsey with a web site stating, off island visitors should pay £75 for the  privilege.  Not cheap in anyone’s eyes but I was up for it, that was until the youngest granddaughter suggested I play her boyfriend, who had recently taken up the game and is affectionally called Dog.

Personally I prefer J Dogg as  a nickname as it sounds so much more Gen Z and I know how to get down with the kids! J Dogg  had only been playing for 3 months and had  already acquired a handicap of 17.5 at the age of  16³/₄. I had a feeling I was going to be up against it. Could I, at the ripe old age of 68¹/₂ take on  one of the islands up and coming natural sportsman? Probably not but I thought I would give it a go, after all a game is a game.

J Dogg like me is the member of two courses but with a significantly reduced annual fee in comparison to the mainland. As a member of 9 hole Port  St Mary and 18 hole Rowany in the south of the island, we had a choice of venue. With our holiday apartment situated in Port Erin and directly adjacent to Rowany GC the choice was easy. I also received a £10 reduction for playing with a member. Win, win.

11.30 a.m. was the agreed time and I suggested, in order to recognise him he wore a carnation and stood under the clock tower but as the club house lacks an external clock or tower I just guessed it was him when a  battered Volkswagen Polo drew up at the allotted time. Yes, you can pass your driving test on the island at 16 and cruise the roads to your hearts content.

At 6 foot plus and slim of build J Dogg appeared to have all the necessary assets to be a good golfer, long levers, flexible torso, muscular frame and a swing to die for, unlike grumpy git here, limited in stature (short), stocky (fat) and a swing like a baboon.

One would think with youth on his side the opening car boot would reveal a cheap aging carry bag containing a  few battered clubs and the odd scratched golf ball. Not so, out came an electric trolley, quickly followed by a fine set of firm shafted G440 Pings. State of the art kit, which costs a pretty penny, no matter who you are. How could a young lad afford such luxuries? It appeared that like his son J Dogg Snr had recently got the bug and had invested in all the new equipment. With his father at work, just like any other 16-year-old, J. Dogg chose to borrow all the new virgin gear.

Meanwhile, delving into the depths of my boot, out came a pencil bag with limited clubs and plenty of balls. I’d played this course before.

As I paid for the round the Pro was very pleasant and explained in detail the difficulties of the back nine which is considered more severe than the front. The 12^th and 14^th being the most difficult with narrow fairways bordered by plenty of gorse.

Just like the Judge’s Race to Halifax and the Beau’s mini golf break to Portugal, I have threatened to bring our ‘coalition of the willing’ over to the island, to experience all that it has to offer. One day all these visits may come to fruition but I digress.

I don’t intend to detail every hole however the first is a gently sloping rise at 268 yards and is a gentle opener. J Dogg led the way, three coiled spring practice swipes resembling a slinky and whoosh the ball carried 200 yards plus, mine less so but we both parred.

From hole to hole the young buck talked me through shot choice for the best outcome. The par 3 second we both bogeyed, with his putt being a good 30 foot, straight down the throat.

Two duff shots at the third and I was one down, I was going to have to concentrate if I was to make any headway in this game.  The kid could play.

The 4^th we shared and the par 5 5^th saw the whipper snapper pull off a fine par after his drive had gone awry. Me I double bogeyed. It appeared the game was getting away from me. “Man up Wormburner” I heard the elders back home say and so it was I went par, bogey, par, bogey, bogey. As for the wonder kid he lost his way and his ball at the 8^th and the 9^th. Two  three off the tees and he was 6 back on me. It was looking good

Being very much aware of the 12^th and 14^th I knew it was important to make the right club choice off the tee and only the golfing gods know why I ignored my own advice. After so many years of golf I can’t put this down to naivety it can only be described as stupidity  and sure enough the heather and gorse grabbed my balls and I was struggling.

Throughout the front 9, the buck had been making changes to his driving option, out went the driver, in came the 3 wood, out went the 3 wood in came the 4 iron. The latter being a far better choice.

At the 15^th J Dogg took a phone call from his father, unlike most teenagers these days his phone wasn’t on loudspeaker, so I was unsure as to the content of the brief conversation but I think the clubs were required back home. From here on in he was inspired to finish the round quickly, probably in fear of a  grounding and he went on to par three of the last four.

As for me I only parred the 17^th. End result,  JD had a good back nine, I didn’t. The final tally saw us even on the card, however with my inferior handicap  I was able to claim a win on the day. So, there’s still life in the old dog yet.

As J Dogg hurriedly departed, I suggested we meet  again next year and he better not be late!

If today was anything to go by I could be playing a single figure handicapper this time next year.

That’s it then a two part blog and I haven’t even mentioned my nearest the pin at Elsham last month or our away day at Hornsea.

Hopefully as the weather gets warmer I will up my blog and my game. Time will tell.