13 - The Curse of Lucky (Part 1)...

I was itching to get on the course again to try and put into practice everything I had learned when, erm, practicing. At the driving range I told Alan that myself and Lucky were thinking of playing later on in the week. Alan looked shocked and happy at the same time (shappy? shoppy?) and said he was going to ring me to see if I fancied a round on Friday. It was fate. It was a date!

I saw Lucky in work the next day and told him that Alan was coming with us so he would get more tips and have a bit of a helping hand. The both of us were as excited as those kids who got asked if they wanted to stay over at the Neverland Ranch before it came to light that Michael Jackson was fiddling with them.

As I had cleaned my clubs thoroughly the week before my bats only needed a quick once over before being ready. I on the other hand needed a new top to play in (Alan can’t see me wearing the same top twice in two weeks, what would he think?) so I went to Liverpool 1 for a look around. I inevitably went to Sports Soccer or whatever it is called to see what they had on offer.

After browsing for too long I came out with a snazzy Nike therma-cool thingie top. As expected it was black and it looks dead good. My better half also made me buy this weird Dunlop Golf top that looked like a fat mans cycling shirt. It has a zip where the buttons should be on the front and doesn’t have a collar. I tried it on at home and she liked it a LOT. I’m not sure I’ll wear it on the course but I’m not taking it back!!!

I went around to the Nike store to see what they had in my size. Unfortunately I wouldn’t look good on the first tee wearing a changing room. There wasn’t any golf gear there anyway. They must spend a fortune getting Eldrick to use their stuff yet don’t bother their arse to stock any of his merch in their official store. To quote the Nan off Catherine Tate “what a facking liberty”.

I ironed all my stuff, got my cap and thick socks ready, dug out my waterproofs and went to give my clubs a bit of TLC. As I got my bag I noticed that it was raining quite heavily but was sure it would clear up soon enough so we could play a bit of ‘Army Golf’ (left, right, left, right – thanks Richie!) the next day.

I eventually made my way into work on Friday morning, fighting my way through monsoon-like rain. Optimistically I phone Kirkby golf course to book a tee time. The bloke on the other end of the line told me that “if the rain carries on like this I’ll be fucking home by 12”. Foolishly I asked if that meant we couldn’t play. “It’ll be fucking flooded, so no”. Hmmm, I was starting to detect a bit of negativity in his voice. “Tell you what, phone me at 12. If I answer you can play, if not your fucked.” This bloke really needed to stop swearing, it isn’t big, clever or funny.

With that Lucky bounded into the office beaming like a Cheshire Cat. He then started to tell me how he had spent the majority of the night before getting all his stuff ready. Ironing his new clobber, cleaning his never used clubs, putting his new balls into his new bag and generally obsessing about his stuff. I let him know what Sweary McGeary at Kirkby said and his face dropped.

“Knowing my luck it will piss down all day” he said. “Nah, it’ll clear up soon” I replied. What followed was rain on a biblical scale. The news channels were littered with reporters in brown Berghaus jackets telling tales of the highest rainfall since records began, whole villages were hilariously swept away by flood surges and Kirkby Golf Course turned into Kirkby Boating Lake. The curse of Lucky had struck again!!!