Super shorts

A golfer’s day out.

You may have noticed, especially if you are in the golfing fraternity, that golfers love to name drop. Not about professional players they may have met. Or various stars of stage and screen that also frequent the swathes of lush grass and verdant valley. No, they, (professional golfers and aforementioned), pall into insignificance when your average club buddy is talking about the courses they have played around the world.
Such as:
St Andrews? Oh Yah, I’ve played there. Wonderful course and quite difficult you know. Meaning they were totally embarrassed, played like a novice and probably lost a dozen balls in the process. But, at least they can say they’ve played there.
St Mellion? Oh of course, dear boy, play there all the time.
TPC Sawgrass? Yep, been there too. (Only on the Nintendo though).
And so on. Lying bastards!
I am no exception, sad to say. Related below is a blow by blow account of my miraculous game at Hindhead Golf Club, in the wilds of Surrey. Did you know it’s a qualifying course for the open? Well it is or was and that should give you a clue about the degree of difficulty faced. (Bet you’re hooked now eh?)
Now, I am not going to give you all eighteen holes worth of tragedy, bad luck and mis-fortune suffered while in the company of two very good players, but I will relate a truncated and précis version, cutting out the swear words and many of the errant shots.
Hole 1. Played off the yellow tees. Par 4. 401 yards long. Straight…ish. The tee shot needs to have at least a 200 yard carry to get over the purple heather in front of you and down both sides of the fairway. My drive was anything but straight…ish and landed in deep heather, having being blocked out right by my errant swing. I then had one of those Hamlet moments (popular small cigar) where a cigar would have been preferable than to try to hack out the little bugger, followed by a putt for double bogey. Great start! At least I kept the ball.
Hole 2. Par 4, 407 yards long with a blind tee shot to a narrow fairway. A blind man would have made a better attempt at finding the short stuff than I did. I had another hamlet moment to get out of the heather that grows profusely on each bank forming the valley of the hole. Again, I managed to keep the ball, but thought seriously about chucking it in the bushes.
Hole 3. 177 yards long. Par 3. I managed to miss the heather and the bunkers on the right. I also managed to miss the green but did hit the steep bank on the left. The ball I had managed to keep for the first two holes was deemed lost and gone for ever. Good riddance!
Hole 4 is a par five at 526 yards, another valley with steep, heather clad sides. I pared that one. Yippee!
Hole 5. Is another valley shaped hole with dog-leg to the left and a well-placed fairway bunker; too well-placed if you ask me. If memory serves, I managed a bogey and retained the ball.
Hole 6. I got another par! On a hole that is 136 yards long. I’m cooking on gas now. Watch out course, I’m on fire. Yeah right!
Hole 7. Stroke index 1. (meaning the hardest on the course), at 387 yards long. Not too far really. We will not speak of this hole… Ever!
Hole 8. Perhaps I was a little demoralised by the previous, never to be mentioned again, hole. My cut fade to the green, 222 yards away certainly looked demoralised, but I found the ball, eventually. Oh joy!
Hole 9. 408 yards, all up hill. I possibly travelled 610 yards by the time I found the green.
You will have noticed that the descriptions have become somewhat shorter as the round progresses. This is entirely due to the sapping of enthusiasm and bewilderment of just how badly, a golf swing can deteriorate. Thankfully, the half-way hut serves many delicacies and refreshments and offers a welcome break from the traumas of the front nine.
No comments about the tenth… none at all, in fact, expunged from the memory. Totally.
Hole 11. Same as hole ten. Who cares about the yardage? It made no difference to me. I was getting the walk of a lifetime. Running out of fairway on a straight hit off the tee probably finished me.
Hole 12. Possibly the best looking hole on the course. I pared that one, but who cares? Right?
Hole 13. Described as an easy par 4 at 250 yards. Who the hell are they trying to kid?
Hole 14. Nice hole, very pretty. Think it was only a double bogey and another lost ball, but at least the views were nice.
Hole 15. 119 yards. I made par… Yay!… sort of!
Hole 16. Whatever! Another exercise in expunging memory cells and also, exactly what direction the ball went into the trees.
Hole 17. Can I go home now? Please? I think I kept the ball.
Hole 18. Is described, on their web-site, as a tough closing hole, possibly written by the Marquis De Sade. It’s bloody impossible! Somehow, I managed a bogey and somehow, I managed to keep the ball… which I then threw, with all my inconsiderable, remaining strength, into the nearest bush, followed by invective that is definitely, not for this page.
So, Hindhead… a very nice course and quite difficult you know… and absolutely off my bloody Christmas card list.
By way of explanation, some miracle of good fortune, natural skill or masochistic tendency, I am not that bad a golfer, in normal circumstances. I usually play to a good standard… mostly. But occasionally, you have one of those days when it is entirely possible to come second in a one horse race. This was just such a day, but rather than confine it to the naughty cupboard to be forgotten about, this sad sod decides to write about it and re-live every horrible moment whenever he re- reads it.
I didn’t mention I got stung by a wasp on the tenth did I? It just added to the misery of the day and landed me in hospital with an allergic reaction to the sting. I also managed to bugger up my back.
Ah! The open fairway.