03 - My hero, Lucky...

After the debacle that was my first soiree at the driving range I decided to get back as soon as I could to shake off the urge to wrap my clubs around someone’s neck and burn down a clubhouse. Instead of going with someone who knew what they were doing I went with my mate Lucky (well deserved nickname but a story for another time) who is also very new to golf.

Lucky, real name Paul, is a case (in the nicest possible way). I told him about thinking of becoming a golfist and he went all hysterical screaming about always wanting to play golf but never having anyone to go with. Within hours he had bought a set of clubs from eBay because “the driver looked like a Beluga whale and the shafts are Titanium”. He is my hero.

Over the coming days all manner of stuff was ordered by him including balls, shoes, a trolley, shirts, a rain suit. When he gets into something there is no stopping him. His enthusiasm is infectious though and soon I was looking forward to disappointing shot after disappointing shot. Bring it on!

When I arrived Lucky was already there, practicing on the putting green with his lad. He came bounding over, all excited, ready to smash the ball straight and true. You know what happened though, don’t you? After an hour he had gone through 100 balls and a fair chunk of his patience. It was comforting to see that it wasn’t just me who was as much use as an arse pocket in a vest when it came to golf.

I on the other hand was much improved. I was hitting a fair few straight and things were starting to feel more natural (like that stupid interlocking finger crap everyone does). I was connecting a lot better and hitting it roughly where I wanted although from time to time my shots were pissing off towards the fence on the right. Not perfect but better.

I left the range feeling good. Lucky left feeling frustrated. I could see he was going through exactly what I had the week before and told him so. He looked at me like he was about to burst into tears, gave me an eerily cheery goodbye and ragged his car out of the car park like he had robbed it. I could tell my words had made a difference. It was a good day.