24 - Reports Of My Golfing Demise May Have Been Greatly Exaggerated...

Your sweary golf blog entertainment might continue after all. I had threatened to jack it all in if tonight’s session at the torture chamber, I mean, driving range went badly. I’m pleased to say that tonight went well…almost as well as it ever has. I blame Richie entirely for this.

While I practiced Richie stood behind me with his judging eyes, checking, ready to point out where I was going wrong. So it was inevitable that I hit six (it is always in groups of six remember) balls fairly far and fairly straight. I was embarrassed and a little bit pissed off. I had specifically asked Richie to come down to sort all my problems yet they had mysteriously disappeared.

Saying that, Richie still spotted a couple of things that he thought needed working on. In order to control my swing he suggested that I grip the club down the shaft a little. Apparently reducing the swing will mean that I’m not as wild and should have more control over the ball which in turn should stop the hideous newbie slice. Fuck me it worked! It worked so well I got adventurous.

Anyone who has ever played golf will tell you that the driver is the hardest club to use accurately which is why, on my two trips to a golf course so far, I’ve avoided it like the plague on the whole. Tonight my mate Paul from work (not Lucky Paul, another Paul) decided he would pop down to Aintree for a bit of a whack. He brought with him a present in the form of a metal shafted, John Daly signature, Hippo driver. He said I should use it to see if it would help my slice.

With Richie’s advice ringing in my ears and Paul’s wood gripped firmly in my hands (oo-er) I let rip and…the ball flew straight and true. For a change it went a properly decent distance too. Was it a fluke I asked myself? Was it fuck came the answer as I hit more and more balls acceptably straight and satisfyingly long. I switched to my 3 wood to see if I could replicate the magic and was more than pleasantly surprised to see I could.

Next it was on to my 5 iron. I wanted to show to Richie that although I might be a ham fisted gimp when it came to driving, I was doing alright with my irons. I hit my first shot so bad that he was laughing at me when I turned around. What a mate he is!!! The problem was easy to spot and quick to fix. I was standing too close to the ball and not keeping my head down.

Adjustments made I was back on course. The yellow basket challenge was on again and I failed once more. I got the same words of encouragement from Richie that I usually get from Alan though; I was getting close enough to be on the green and in a good position to two putt. I was back to being proud of my little ‘Fivey’!

Time for the wedge and the blue basket challenge. The game is simple; there is a blue basket around 50 yards away and we each in turn try and chip into it. So far I have played this game with Alan and Lucky and lost on both occasions. This time, armed with my 56* wedge, I was determined to win. After a few shots I realised that the wedge was just too lofty, the ball was flying higher than further.

I switched to Lucky’s 9 iron and, in the immortal words of Stifler, it was “on like Donkey Kong”. I was there or thereabouts from the start so it was only a matter of time before I hit the jackpot. A few balls later I was laughing like a loon as I bingoed the target. Get the fuck in! I won, job done, game over. Richie went one better though by doing a ‘Crossbar Challenge’ (watch Soccer AM on Sky) on the basket…the bastard.

With the prize won I moved to a spare bay, relaxed and fired a few balls off. It is amazing how much easier this game is when you have no pressure on you. I hit lots of creamy shots into the crisp Aintree night with a smug smirk on my face. I finished off with two 3 wood drives that were the best of the night. It is good to be the king.