Tag Archives: golf

Rambler thinks
I’m a good player

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Even in the most humdrum golfing lives there are magic moments capable of illuminating the darkest of your days. One happened to me under the strangest circumstances last Tuesday morning.

I hesitate to complain about how cold it was because we haven’t seen any snow along the South Wales coast and at least we were out playing while the rest of the nation seemed to be busy digging lambs out of snow-drifts.

But it was freezing, made worse by a bitter wind, and I was feeling neither happy nor comfortable as I trudged after my drive on the first which I had pulled left into the semi-rough.

The ball lay few yards short of the wooden fence that separates us from the beach and alongside which is the newly-built coastal path that goes all around the edge of Wales.

Walking parallel to me were a large group of ramblers, fur-hatted and haversacked , and one of them stopped opposite my ball.

What’s wrong with him, I thought. Even rambling is a more interesting pastime than watching me hit a golf ball.

I was faced with a diagonal shot across the fairway which slopes towards the sea. I was hitting a five-iron hoping, if I caught it right, the ball would roll down towards the hole.

And, boy, did I catch it right. The ball flew high to exactly the right spot and rolled thirty yards down to six or seven feet behind the pin.

‘Good shot,’ cried the rambler. ’Thank you,’ I shouted back, raising my arm in one of those half-hearted Tiger acknowledgments.

I don’t know if he knows anything about golf. It doesn’t matter. In that brief crossing of our lives he might have formed the opinion that I’m a good golfer. If only one person in the world believes that, it’s a start.

On the next tee, I hit my drive 50 yards into the gorse. But he was already well down the coastal path by then, perhaps telling his pals what he’d seen.

The reason I hit the bad drive is that my eyes were watering so much from the cold I could hardly see the ball. My partner, John Dodd, suffered from the same problem.

We soldiered on gamely until the fourth when we decided to head for the clubhouse and a hot toddy or two. So we darted across to play the 16th, 17th and 18th.

On our return there was a crowd of over 20 golfers just starting out on the first tee. They were visitors from the south of England. Their name? The Sunnysiders Golf Society.

My advice would have been to stay in the clubhouse. But, then again, they would have booked their day well in advance and after a long journey you re not going to pull out of a game of golf, especially if it is dry. I hope they enjoyed it.

It is going to be slightly warmer over Easter when I am playing in two competitions. What with my rambler’s shot and my final two drives going right down the middle, my confidence is high.

Don’t blame us
for slow play

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It’s bad enough when rain stops you playing golf but when it prevents you swanning around the course in a buggy as a marshal’s assistant it is doubly sad.
My enforced lay-off following an operation still has a couple of months to go but last weekend I was offered the chance to witness at first hand our club’s latest clamp-down on slow play.
This was slightly ironic since every time slow play is discussed my regular three-ball tends to get mentioned in a derogatory manner. Needless to say, we are aggressively vociferous in our defence. Not that we disagree with the principle, we just don’t like getting picked on.
The European Tour has also declared war on slow play and they penalised Ross Fisher one shot at the Wales Open last month. At Glamorganshire, suspensions are threatened.
There wouldn’t be much point in imposing a shot penalty at our level — most of the 200 or so who compete in each monthly medal would hardly notice if you added five shots to their total.
But stopping a club golfer playing in a medal is a cruel punishment. You have to queue up a week ahead to get your name down for one, that’s how keen everyone is to play in them. We are far keener on competitive rather than social golf.
Every golfer has their own idea of what constitutes slow play. In the third round of the US Women’s Open at Wisconsin last week the final two-ball took five hours and 25 minutes. They were probably having a chat.
Obviously, games of that duration would cause havoc in club golf. At our club, the match and handicap committee have decided that four hours, which includes a refreshment stop at the halfway house, should be the norm.
As it is, those off first in the morning usually manage to finish inside that time but by the afternoon rounds are taking four hours 30 minutes or more which is not good enough.
Match captain Leon is determined to speed play up so that no-one is unduly delayed. The first offence will attract a warning letter and dilly-dallying for a second time will earn a two weeks suspension for all competitions.
To help maintain the pace of play, a series of course marshals will be cruising the course in a buggy to encourage any laggards to get a move on.
And to ensure everyone begins on time, a starter will be posted on the first tee. Anyone late will also attract a penalty.
Leon invited me on his buggy to see how it all went but the torrential rain closed the course.
Just to prove there’s nothing new in this game, we had a slow play problem when I was captain 20 years ago. I appointed a senior member as a starter and because he’d be on duty for six or seven hours I arranged for him to be paid a couple of bob.
A year or so later, after my term of office was over, they sacked him to save money. I feel somewhat vindicated that a starter has been re-introduced and I may have mentioned it once or twice in the bar.
Of course, whenever slow play is brought up the poor old hackers are usually blamed. But common sense tells you that a golfer taking 110 shots in a medal is liable to be slower than one who takes 70.
Although that doesn’t always apply. Hackers don’t generally ponce around the green studying putts from every angle. And after playing a shot we tend not to stand there posing for 30 seconds
As for my infamous three-ball; Max, Mike and myself usually play at about 9 am. Unfortunately, most of those who start earlier have a passion for rapid play that we don’t share. This is not surprising since our combined age is about 220 and we take around 300 shots between us.
But we still get home in around four hours. They take pride in being a lot quicker. In fact, if you ask them how their round went instead of giving you their nett score as most would they say ‘three hours 41 minutes’.
Now, you wouldn’t mind if they were in a rush to finish in order to take their wives shopping or to see their sons play football. No, they gather round the back of the 18th green, with a steady accumulating array of empty glasses in front of them, mocking the finishing times of those behind them.
Our only explanation is that they are all alcoholics who can’t wait to get back to the clubhouse to have a drink.
Having said that, we are wholeheartedly behind Leon’s campaign and I hope Leon invites me onto his marshal’s buggy when last weekend’s postponed medal is played next weekend. I’d welcome the role of independent observer.