GolfPunk's Against the World
Ladies and gentlemen, as anyone with a license fee should know the golf season is here. Yeah we know, the global sport is played all year round from Malaysia to Malaga to Margate but the first major of the year is when it really kicks in. So what are we going to do to celebrate? Speak to the PGA’s newest major winner about what it is like to be on top of the world? Naaaa. Talk to a rookie about what it is like to appear on the greatest stage in golf? Nope. Chat to some weekend hackers like you and me about real grass roots golf? Yeah, that sounds a bit more like us. So here it is, introducing the latest set of GolfPunks Against the World, it’s The Fourball.
Hi,
This is the first of a regular update on what is happening in the real world of golf – not the glorious weather of the USPGA, or the exotic locations of the European Tour – no this is golf without caddies, television cables to drop from, crowds of people to cheer and groan, and shots to make you go oooh and aaah. This is the fourball.
Yep. A regular fourball, playing the same course regularly, with the same strengths and weaknesses – every week – as we try to win our majors – the weekly competition, the club matchplay, the monthly medal and the glory of a few quid from a shop sweep. We play for real money. Fifty-fifty and a pound, with ten pence points for birdies, oozlers, woozlers, sandies and golden ferrets. Shots are taken from the low man. But I had better be honest. It is a fourball lacking one thing. A fourth person. So our fourball has three regulars, plus whoever puts their name down with us on the timesheet. So I’d better tell you a bit about us.
We are probably not qualified to be considered golf punks, as we might be seen as too old, too set in our ways and too middle class. But in our favour – we lose our tempers (well Michael and I do) have a laugh – talk about the topics of the day, can work an iPod and welcome younger players to our fourball to keep us up-to-speed with the current trends for young people – who it would appear are much more conservative than we were at their age.
Here are the players:
Michael
Age: Too near to 50 to be completely sure of seeing next week, he is a sort of civil servant who works in human resources.
Ability: Plays off 19, lowest handicap was 15, and there is no reason that he should be so high, well apart from the wrist he broke in the takeaway that seems to be near incurable.
Trophies: A sickening two Captain’s Prizes, including the Millennium Prize, two medals, and a few other assorted gongs over the years.
Ray
Age: Over fifty. We are not that sure what he actually does, apart from go on holidays quite regularly, both for golf and to watch his daughter play tennis.
Ability: Plays off five. Was lower. Totally unflappable. Was going to win Captain’s Day a couple of years back until a shank on the 12th. His response: “Oh well, that’s a bit of a pity.” Michael and I were inwardly bashing our clubs on the ground on his behalf, as he happily wandered over, finished with a five, missed the prize by a point and enjoyed the dinner.
Trophies: Two at least, club matchplays, various medals, one captain’s prize, and on several teams. Hits the ball a country mile – for an old guy.
Me (Tim)
Age: Nearly 49, but not quite – and what does age matter anyway. Work in advertising making things up – but this is all true.
Ability: Down from 11 to eight last year – my lowest ever handicap at the age of 48 – life is only beginning – hurrah.
Trophies: One singles competition in nearly 20 years. One, yes, one. The Graham Leason Bodel putter for heaven’s sake. Not even a medal. Closest to a medal was fifteen years ago – when I was second to a 28 effing handicapper. It didn’t bother me at all that Len ‘whasisname’ – off 28 – beat me into second and I was off 12. Not a bit. Four semi-finals of the club match play. I am the Jimmy White of the Deramore Cup. But I will keep the story of that for another day.
We play at Malone Golf Club outside Belfast. A beautiful course, set in 300 acres, with a lake on the back nine, 27 holes and great practice facilities. So we all practise. Like hell we do. We are amateurs. We need to be able to race out of the car park on to the first tee and wallop the ball down the middle with barely a practice swing. Practising is for wimps and people who are blessed with talent and can play the game. The clubhouse is great – with a new bar, and a warm welcome as long as you are wearing socks.
So that is us. Throughout the year I will keep you up-to-date on our performance, our opinions on current affairs, Big Brother, football, what we bought to improve our game without practising, Irish rugby (Ray and Michael are experts, so they tell me), politics, how we screwed up every competition, what size of hangover we played with, and how we managed to spend our money on the card.
Talk soon.
Tim
Golf Punks
4/11/2007 4:32:51 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)
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