Wednesday 22 October 2008

40 - Doogie On Form Giving Arthur A Break...

Tonight I went the driving range with Paul (not Lucky) and for the first time in the last couple of months it didn’t piss down with rain. I know, I can’t believe it either! It wasn’t perfect though, it is starting to get too cold to play in a short sleeve top now but you can’t have everything, can you? Stop whining you tart!!!

The last couple of visits haven’t been good for ‘Arthur’. He is going wild again so I have decided to go back to basics and practice with my long irons as I have been using them off the tee recently to give me a second shot from the fairway.

Instead of using my 3 iron I decided to give ‘Doogie’ (the name I’ve given to my Howson Hybrid – Doogie Howser…Doogie Howson, geddit?) a go. Fuck me; I was rustier than Chris Evan’s sack tonight. It took 12 balls before I got to ball above waste height and over 100 yards.

Eventually it came back to me and I remembered why I was so impressed with my £10 club. It only takes a gentle swing to get the ball flying into the night air. Good stuff. For the first time ever though I was hooking the ball! I know it is a crap shot but I was nearly crying at not slicing it any more!

After the warm up (where I managed to nearly snap the pole holding the 100 yard marker sign with a fearsome drive) me and Paul got on to the serious business of the Blue and Yellow Basket Challenge! It has been a while since I found the net in these games but tonight I Sally Gunnelled a cracker to bingo Big Yeller! Kerching! I was back in the game.

On to Little Bluey. Paul had brought his TaylorMade 56* wedge with him and was plopping the ball nicely around the basket, getting closer and closer each time. I was using ‘Niney’ with the quarter swing chip Alan taught me and was all over the place. Then suddenly it clicked and I found my range. A few shots later and I had done the double capturing the Blue Basket Crown to go with the Yellow one I picked up earlier.

I went back to ‘Doogie’ for some more practice and got a good bit of advice from Paul. He explained that addressing the ball a little further back would mean I would be making contact as the club face was moving up which would help lift the ball into the air and eek out a few more yards. Sounded too simple to work but fuck me, it did! I used the last of my balls moving the club back and forwards experimenting. Interesting, I will try this out more next time.

Paul still had a few balls left so I stood in his bay and had a look at his 56* wedge. It was easy to see the difference in quality between his club and my £10 ‘Mack the Knife’ from JJB Sport. After a few chips which almost found the target without much effort I was convinced that better equipment produces better results. I’m more determined than ever to buy a Titleist Vokey now…

Tuesday 21 October 2008

39 - Thouroughly Entertained For a Change...

The latest copy of Golf Whine Monthly found its way into my possession the other day and for the first time ever it thoroughly entertained me. Is this a sign that I’m now getting into golf enough to understand everything they are banging on about? Does it show that I’m eager to learn about what is happening in the world of golf? Or could it be that there is a new Titleist Vokey wedge out and they had pictures of it? You decide…

This year’s Vokey wedges come with three new shaft stiffness’s giving the range increased variety and making them more accessible to players of varying ability. The faces of the club are still ‘spin milled’ meaning the ball rotates faster than if struck with an average wedge which, in theory, gives the player more control.

But fuck all that, they still do the little beauty with an ‘Oil Can’ finish. I swear I get a semi on just thinking about the bronzed little minx! Interestingly they still do it boring arsed ‘Tour Chrome’ but now it also comes in pornographic ‘Black Nickel’. Oooh, it is almost as nice as the junkyard dog…I think I want one of both.

On the subject of new clubs there was an interesting letter from some clown who is as bad as me asking should he stick with the auld clubs he inherited a few years ago or invest in some new bats. The answer was simple; new ‘game-improvement’ clubs will provide more forgiveness and playability and help reduce handicaps. I’m sold.

Not only do the good people at Golf Whine Monthly say I need some shiny new clubs they also give a list of the best ones to buy. They reckon the Wilson Di9’s or the Mizuno MX-100’s (pictured above) are great and are available for under £400 which is a definite plus. They also mention some clubs I have already talked about on this blog; the TaylorMade Burner Plus and Ping’s Rapture V2 but they are crazy expensive.

In summary; the Wilson’s look cheap, the Mizuno’s look great (and have a blue highlight to them - nice), the TaylorMade’s look too up their own arse and the Ping’s look fucking awesome. At this moment the Mizuno’s seem a pretty good bet, especially as they are just £50 a club (this compares well when put up against the Ping’s which are over a ton a bat)! I can either buy a full set of the Mizuno’s or half a set of the Ping’s. Decisions, decisions…

Finally, there was a reply to the crying cunt who travelled all the way to Portugal to play on some swanky course but was pissed off because there were villas lining some of the holes. He said it made the place look like a posh housing estate but a couple of residents wrote in to call him a whining bastard. To be honest I agree with them. Like I said at the time, just get on with spanking the piss out of the ball and enjoy yourself for fuxake.

Monday 20 October 2008

38 - First Annual (Drunken) Tiger Woods Challenge...

I have always enjoyed the social side of golf. I have, in the past, been a guest at the Woolton Golf Society Presentation Night and enjoyed myself enormously…mainly because when it comes to drinking I am not bad, not bad at all. So when the first annual (drunken) Tiger Woods Challenge night was proposed I was in like Flynn!!!

We decided to pile around to Kev’s (Alan’s lad and my best mate) to have a four way game of Tiger Woods 09 on the Playstation 3. If you haven’t played TW09 you are missing out as it is simply brilliant. On the PS 3 it looks amazing and is easy enough to pick up and play but just difficult enough to keep you on your toes.

Along with me and Kev were Richie and an old friend called Paddy. Paddy is a good few years younger than us and has played TW in its earlier guises so we all thought he was the dark horse, the one to beat. Also there was Gaz who, if you remember from a previous post, is going to provide security for Robs Irregular Golf Society. It is good to have some security when playing a game as violent and aggressive as golf.

With the competitors ready, the characters selected (I was playing as John ‘ice-cream’ Daly, Kev was Vijay ‘Dev’ Singh, Richie was Colin ‘Doubtfire’ Montgomery and Paddy was Ian ‘Le Tissier’ Poulter) the game loaded and with can’s in hand we started. Then we stopped again to change the settings as Kev was using the metric system and no cunt could work out how far 156 meters actually was or how much compensation was needed when there was a 3 kilometre cross wind. Setting changed, we started!

Almost predictably Paddy pulled out an early lead. Four birdies in five holes had him comfortably in the lead with ‘slow and steady’ Richie in second and me and Kev miles behind after swapping double-bogeys and generally being shite. Then the arse fell hilariously out of Paddy’s round as he mortared two of his tee shots into the ocean and began a slippery slope to the bottom. Richie “you have to play all 18 holes” was now in the lead with me and Kev clawing shots back.

As the drink flowed the game got more and more raggered with Richie dropping shots with his cautious play, Paddy screaming at Kev for telling him the wrong buttons to press and me trying to outdrive everyone at the expense of staying on the course at times. The inevitable sledging began with Paddy and Kev almost coming to blows at one point over a scream of “PANCAKE!” (no, I don’t know what it means either).

As the game went on, Paddy got shitter and shitter hitting some of the worst shots ever seen on a video game. This was partly down to his dubious ability and partly down to Kev who was winding him up something rotten. Richie was still playing safe, consistent golf but it wasn’t enough as me and Kev blasted past his score.

I was impressed with Kev, he was much better than I was expecting as he claimed he had only played the game a couple of times before. But as Harold Shipman once said, ‘the truth will out’. After speaking to lovely Sharron, his preggers fiancĂ©e, it turns out that he had been practicing since 7:30 that morning in order to get an edge. Tut tut tut…he was almost bringing the game into disrepute!

After some good golf (not from Paddy to be honest) the last two holes were looming and Kev tried some Sir Alex Ferguson-esque mind games. Unfortunately for him I’m not a spineless bitch like Kevin Keegan and cruised to a two shot win. I was magnanimous in victory and didn’t gloat like a cunt, no Sir, that isn’t my style!!!

As it was relatively early (11pm – we had been playing for 3 hours!) we decided to have a doubles game. It had a name which I don’t remember but it was basically everyone tees off and then the pairs select the best ball for the second shot then the shots are taken alternately. Geditt? It was a struggle for us too after a few cans.

Me and Richie were wild and Kev and Paddy has kissed and made up. They went into a two shot lead that me and Richie clawed back despite the arguing and screaming. “They are fighting amongst themselves” came the gleeful cries from the soon to be losers. The reason we were so passionate was because we wanted the victory more than them two.

After not being ahead for 8 of the 9 holes, me and Richie snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. As they say, the cream cannot help but to rise up to the top and that is what we did as we rose like salmon to strike a blow for podgy games players all over the world. Experience triumphed over youth and all Kev’s snide practicing was in vain!!!

Thursday 16 October 2008

37 - A Brand New Challenge But The Same Result...

Another night like the opening of a horror film, another trip to the range. Fighting my way through the howling wind and driving rain I was relieved to see Richie’s bright red passion wagon in the car park and impressed to see Paul (not Lucky, the other Paul) had made the long journey from Formby for 100 balls of practice. I swear it only rains that way when we decide to visit the driving range.

I started, as usual, with a salvo from ‘Arthur’ who was in the type of form that can only be described as average. Plenty of sloppy shots about 150/200 yards with no discernable direction despite my effort. Actually, that is a little harsh. The shots were going in a vague arc about as wide as an Aldi car park in a small Scottish town.

With the warm up out the way me, Richie and Paul got on to the serious business of the Blue & Yellow Basket Challenges! With the new rules in place the game was very much on. Big Yeller was first to be bombarded…briefly. I was just starting to get my range when Richie aced the target. Game over. Bastard. Not to worry, I’d make up for it with a considered attack on Little Bluey.

Erm, not a chance. Before I could say “Paul has chipped the fucker in”, Paul had chipped the fucker in. This was getting seriously irritating now. Looking back it was a bit of a wake up call to be honest and showed that however far I had come in the last seven weeks I was still, at best, shit. Granted, both Richie and Paul have been playing for years but there was no disguising the fact that I was miles behind them.

Right, time to even things up a little, time for a brand new game, a game that requires less skill and more luck. Ladies and Gentlemen I give you ‘The Smack the Big Number 4 Sign Challenge!’ The rules are simple; take it in turn to hit the big, yellow number 4 sign about 75 yards away. Erm, that’s it. What makes this challenge different though is that the sign is on a post so to hit it takes a lot of skill or some blind luck.

To cut a short story, erm, short, Richie hit the fucking thing three times in about 10 minutes without any effort. Grrr… That was it, I gave up. I went back to bandy drives with ‘Arthur’ knowing that my best wasn’t even close to being good enough. Strangely, despite my shitness, I still had a good time so it wasn’t a complete loss. I badly need to practice though.

Wednesday 15 October 2008

36 - Another Day, Another Round, Another Success...

As he was going to see Oasis the night before and would no doubt trying to drink his own body weight in lager, Lucky took the next day off to recover. I got a text off him that asked if I fancied a sneaky round of golf that afternoon. Until I received his text I didn’t but now the idea was in my head and I had to sort it out. A quick discussion with my manager and I was on the phone to book a round.

I phoned Kirkby out of hope rather than expectation and was, as usual, though to Sweary McGeary. Kirkby was closed due to water logging but the man with a thousand expletives was up beat about the course claiming that the greens were in the best condition of the year and, if there was no rain, the course would be in pristine condition the next day, almost perfect in fact. I thought I’d ask if there was any chance of a sneaky round today anyway, “no fucking chance” came the predictable reply. I phoned Bootle knowing that they never close and we were booked to tee off at 1:15.

Me and Lucky met in the car park and commented on how nice the day was. No wind, brilliant sunshine, relatively warm, fantastic. Something had to go wrong though, but what? Then we saw the queue at the first tee. There were about four games backed up meaning we’d be hanging around for about 40 minutes before hitting a ball. Because we are ingenious so-and-so’s we decided to start by playing the back nine first meaning we’d miss all the queues. Brilliant!

We ambled over to the 10th tee where two lads were limbering up. It seems they were waiting for a mate and asked if we wanted to play through but we told them we would wait as we are shit and would only hold them up. One of them commented on the fact that we didn’t look shit, in fact we looked – according to him – like a couple of American PGA Pros! I explained that it is easy to look the part but much more difficult actually being it. He agreed and said he was the same; “all the gear and no idea!” That sums me and Lucky up nicely I thought.

It took a while for me to remember how to hit the ball but Lucky was flying, in fact he got his first ever par on the 11th (a short par 3) and looked like he was going to burst into tears! We continued around the course hitting good shot after good shot and were level pegging by the time the arse fell out of my game on the 14th. The hole is a long son-of-a-bitch par 3…over water so there was no chance I was going to do well on it. Three balls into the lake later and my round was officially fucked. The confidence drained out of me with each plop of ball into shitty lake.

I tried to make it up on the next hole but I made a complete pig’s ear of that too. The only good thing to come out of the 15th was the copy of Fiesta (a male, ahem, interest mag ) I found in the bushes behind the green which took my mind off the fuck awful golf I was playing. I was distracted (that isn’t a euphemism by the way) and started to hit the ball properly again. It is amazing what the power of nekkid women can do…

By the time we got to the 18th which was actually our ninth as we played the back nine first instead of the front nine I was on the verge of walking away. It was only the fact that, for the first time in all the three times I have been there, the 1st tee was empty that we decided to have a crack at the first nine holes. Anyone who has played Bootle will tell you that the front nine is much more difficult than the back nine so I wasn’t looking forward to it to be honest.

I’m glad that Lucky convinced me to have a crack though as it was possibly my most enjoyable nine holes since I started playing six whole weeks ago. There was no-one behind us so we could take our time, the weather was glorious and I was playing ok. The odd shot aside, I was hitting the ball fairly straight and fairly long. I even managed to find the fairway for the first time on the rock hard 7th (a fearsome par 5 with a green on the top of hill like something out of a giant Crazy Golf Course or summat). It was on this hole where I played my best shot of the day as I pitched a delicious chip to within 2 feet of the hole.

As we made our way to the 9th (which was actually our 18th) I started to reflect on what a good round we had. Lucky was excellent off the tee and was starting to find his range with the new Klingon putter. His short game was still a little hit and miss but overall he was much improved, a fact reflected in the final score when we worked out Lucky had knocked a massive 28 shots off his previous score.

I had did ok too knocking 15 off my total but most importantly I was playing better and enjoying the game. When we did the totals we had both scored 103, agonisingly close to the magical 100 (my pre-Christmas target). At this rate my dream of ‘not being completely shit’ could be realised by next summer.

Tuesday 14 October 2008

35 - My Kinda Place For A Lost Weekend...

Sorry for the lack of updates recently my little golf fanatics but I have spent the weekend trying to destroy my liver and kidneys with alcohol. Those of you sick of reading my shit will be pleased to know that I have almost succeeded by the looks of things as I now have a faint yellow tint about me – a sure sign that something isn’t working properly.

I got to thinking about how golf would be if I were pissed. Would I be more relaxed? Would my co-ordination go to pieces meaning I wouldn’t be able to hit the ball let alone hit it accurately? Would I be searching the woods for a kebab shop every ten minutes? All important questions I’m sure you will agree? Thing is, I really want to try it.

Like real golf, drunken golf requires preparation and practice which is why I am desperate to visit the establishment below. Seriously, how funny would that place be? All the gaff would need was lap dancing waitresses serving curry and the army would need to be drafted in to control the crowds outside.

I need a lie down.

Friday 10 October 2008

34 - Simply The Worst...Practice Ever!

What a difference a day makes as some bint once warbled. Yesterday was easily my best trip to the driving range, today was the worst. My golf was ok it was just the rest of it that sucked arse.

I went through the routine of texting the usual suspects and got a couple of replies. Lucky, desperate to build on his solid showing yesterday, was as giddy as a teenager on his first line of coke and desperate to get down there. Richie was also up for spending an hour hitting irritatingly straight shots down the range too. So far, so good.

Actually, why am I the only cunt who ever organises this shit? Any trip to Aintree starts with me sending out a flurry of texts in the hope that someone will agree to go. It would be nice if one of you lot would text me for a change to see if I were up for it. I could then play hard to get for a bit before giving in easier than a stowaway nymphomaniac on a ship full of horny sailors that have been at sea for two months.

Ahem…

Yeah, so I got my gear ready, got changed and braced myself to face the wilds of north Liverpool on a stormy October night. Then I got a phone call from Lucky saying that he had two tickets to see Oasis at the Echo Arena and was swerving the range. I had been blown out for Liam Gallagher. Liam fucking Gallagher for fuck sake. Lucky would rather watch that uni-browed, welly-headed, knock-eyed cunt than come the range with me. I felt dirty. Never mind, me and Richie would play and I was bound to get a few quality tips from him.

I fought my way into the range from the monsoon engulfing the car park and found a bay. Strangely, most of them were full despite there being no golf on telly and the weather being awful. I warmed up with a few whacks with ‘Arthur’ and things were going well. Then I received a call from my better half saying that Richie wasn’t coming as he got soaked filling the car with petrol at the garage or something. Fuck sake.

So there I was, alone, pissed off and soaked. To cut a long story short I won both the Blue and Yellow Basket Challenges as I was the only gobshite playing. Eventually Richie popped in for 5 minutes on his way home but the damage had been done, I been abandoned and left to my own devices. All I learned from the session is that playing alone is shite and you can go through 100 balls in about 20 minutes without trying. Gutted.

Thursday 9 October 2008

33 - Brightly Coloured Aspirational Bobbins...

Since spotting the good reviews of a set of TaylorMade clubs the other week I have been eying up their merchandise with more than a little passing interest. Before reading the review I never really fancied their stuff (despite having a TaylorMade bag ironically) as they always looked a bit, well, poncey to me compared to other manufacturers. It is hard to explain but I’ll have a go.

When I think of Nike stuff it puts me in mind of 20 and 30-something players who have recently taken the sport up and are full of energy and enthusiasm. They would be the sort of people who would buy Golf Punk magazine (which I described as Nuts Mag with putters if you remember) and have longest drive competitions for Tequila Shots.

Ping is what professionals and auld arses use. People who have been playing for 15 years or more, got the hooning out of their system and now want clubs that allow them to do shit like shape their shots in an effort to get down to a single figure handicap. Their choice is made because they will absolutely not compromise on quality and price isn’t really an issue.

When it comes to TaylorMade I tend to think of people who buy stuff because of the image it portrays. It puts me in mind of people who absolutely must have an executive German saloon despite struggling to pay the insurance on it. People who buy Apple Mac’s because of the way they look rather than because of the stuff it can do. People who have to have the latest phone with all the bells and whistles despite never using them half of them. You know the type of person I mean, they are usually referred to as cunts.

Well that is what I was thinking as I was idly checking the Auto Trader website for a Mercedes CLK coupe on my iPhone via the shortcut that synced from my MacBook. Yup, they are the type of person you would cross the road to avoid. They are usually mouthy bastards with too much to say and too little worth listening to in my experience. Erm…

Joking aside, TaylorMade have that effect on me which would possibly put me off buying them. I am probably dead wrong, they are probably a fantastic brand that deserves a lot more credit than I’m giving it and no doubt my outlook would change if I spent £500 on a set of their irons but for the time being I’m not feeling them.

At least they don’t try and hook in the morons by giving their stuff exciting names like ‘Burner’ and producing garish golf bags and that. Oh…

Wednesday 8 October 2008

32 - Simply The Best...Practice Ever!

After the debacle at Bootle the other day I was desperate to work on my driving. I have gone from useless to ok to useless again in the space of three weeks. I’m up and down more often than a French grooms arse on his wedding night. I decided it was vital that I knuckle down and get to grips with my driver as it is starting to seriously mess with my head.

I sent a text to Alan and Lucky to see if either of them were up for a sneaky hour at Aintree. Both said they were well up for it. It was on like Donkey Kong!

When I got there I was greeted by Lucky and his lad Liam (complete with bandaged up hand after an altercation with a fence). No sign of Alan but we were able to find three bays together for when he arrived. To be honest, we could have had about ten in a row as there was no golf tournament recently and it was raining meaning that all the beuts would rather stay at home playing Tiger Woods than annoying the life out of me at the range.

I limbered up with a few whacks with ‘Arthur’. I was thinking about my swing after my ‘mare at Bootle and realised that when I’m using my irons I sort of bend my right wrist as the club moves back from the ball and then it straightens up as I connect with the ball. This works pretty well although I’m not sure if it is what a golf pro would recommend. Anyway, I can hit the ball pretty straight and pretty far using this method which is what I want to do with my driver.

Encouragingly the ball flew high, straight and handsome using this ‘wrist break’ action. The good thing about it was that it was effortless too. It was at this point that Alan turned up and saw me giving it the beans with ‘Arthur’. He simply said “That is spot on; I don’t know what your problem is.” I had to explain that I had changed my swing again for the 55,000th time and we both agreed that this version was working ok!

After that we had what can only be described as the best session at the driving range in my entire 6 weeks of being a golfist. Drives were straight and, 9 times out of 10, long, ‘Fivey’ was working a dream and ‘Niney’ was on form too. Liam said something telling as me and Lucky were practicing. He turned to Lucky and simply said “God, you have got loads better since last time”. Sometimes you don’t realise you are getting better as you only notice your fuck ups; Liam’s words touched me deeply (in a non-Michael Jackson kinda way you understand)!!!

With the warm up out of the way it was on to the soon to be Trade Marked Blue & Yellow Basket Challenge! For the first time ever there were rules to the game which are as follows; each player has 12 balls, the person in the bay closest to the left-hand fence goes first with the next closest second etc, the game ends when someone bingos the basket or when the balls are all gone, if 12 balls go we then try again with 13 with the same rules, when the second set of balls are gone the game is over and we move on the other basket. Got all that?

We started with Big Yeller about 100-odd yards away and instantly I could see this was going to be a tight game. Lucky, usually pish with his irons, was showering the basket with delicious shot after delicious shot whilst Alan was being Alan and getting close with virtually every shot. I was using ‘Fivey’ with a three quarter swing and, if I’m being honest, was getting closer than my two competitors. In fact I thought I got it in twice with the ball missing by literally inches.

Needless to say, despite all the good shots we didn’t manage one perfect one to find a winner on the night. As I am the current holder of the Yellow Basket Challenge Trophy I retained the cup like they do in the Ryder Cup an’ that.

We then moved on to the Blue Basket Challenge. While trying to hit Big Yeller, Lucky managed to get the ball into Little Bluey twice (I like the nicknames for the baskets, they are staying). I told him he would get an honorary mention but he wasn’t winning the game! While limbering up for the game, Alan did a Sally Gunnell trick shot where the ball trickled across the floor before colliding with another and leaping into the basket like a salmon into a keep net. Tremendous stuff.

On only the second attempt I captured the Blue Basket Challenge Trophy too! Little chip right into the centre of the basket and the Trophy was coming home with me – it is good to be the King! On a serious note it shows that I’m getting better with my irons, a point I noticed when on Bootle a few days ago with Lucky. Now if I just had a basket to aim at with my driver I would be on the PGA Tour this time next year!

With the competitive games out of the way we started on the other yellow basket on the other side of the range. This was a fair bit away but we had a go anyway and I’m pleased to say that we all went close. When it comes to iron shots me and Lucky have come on leaps and bounds...I just hope we can transfer this onto the course.

As I mentioned earlier, it was the best session we have had at the driving range and I didn’t want to leave to be honest. Me and Lucky both commented on the fact that we could prolly hit another 100 balls without trying but Alan said we should leave it or we’ll end up burnt out. Thing is, I can’t wait to return, where is my phone…I’ve got to send out some texts!

Tuesday 7 October 2008

31 - Half Is Better Than Nothing When You Are Desperate...

Me and Lucky decided that before it starts going dark really early we will try and get as many afternoon rounds in as possible. We planned a trip to Kirkby last Thursday so Wednesday saw the return of the club cleaning, clobber ironing routine that I go through before a game. Not that I was paranoid or anything but I marked a shit load of new balls with my little roo as I was certain I was going to lose a few.

Thursday morning arrived and coincided with another ‘wrath of the gods’ type downpour. Undaunted I contacted Kirkby to see if they were open “nah mate, it is fucking waterlogged” came the predictable response from Sweary McGeary. We decided to give it a miss this week as it was still pissing down as we headed to lunchtime.

Friday morning was glorious…blazing sunshine, no wind, a perfect crisp autumnal morning. “Surely it was perfect weather for golf?” asked Lucky, “you are right…and don’t call me Shirley” came my reply. I contacted Kirkby to see if, by some minor miracle, yesterday’s flood water had managed to work its way into the River Alt. I braced myself for the usual tirade from Sweary McGeary but instead was told by a very professional sounding lady that the course was too wet to play. It is never too wet to play…ahem.

Lucky was crest fallen; he needed to play like a fat kid needs M&M’s. It was decided that we would try the golfing hell that is Bootle. Unlike Kirkby, Bootle doesn’t have problems with drainage and seems to be open every day. Bastard, I don’t like that course, well the first nine holes anyway as they are too hard for me at the minute. We were booked to tee off at 3pm.

A quick drive home to get changed and pick up my stuff meant I was a little late but we were raring to go at 3:10 on the nose. Worryingly we were behind three scalls who were giving us snide looks because we hadn’t turned up in jeans and Reebok Classics like them. Never mind, once they tee off we won’t see them again…if only that were true.

The rest of the afternoon was one big, frustrating wait as the clowns split into the rough like the Red Arrows as they searched for their lost balls. They were so shit that at one point we were one of four games backed up behind them. Their shitness did take the pressure off us a little though as I was hopeless off the tee and Lucky was being a little wayward with some of his second shots. It all came together on the fourth though as we both hit the green for three (which is what we are aiming for at the moment as we aren’t good enough to get there in two).

Looking back we did hit a few good shots but overall I wasn’t impressed with my performance at all, my driving has gone to shit again and the more I tried the worse I got until I started teeing off with a 3 iron again just so I could take my second shot from the fairway. I’m properly putting the hours in at the range to work on my driving. I want it to be second nature to hit it kinda long and kinda straight. Practice makes permanent as they say (well Richie does anyway).

We made our way round and let a couple of lads who were much better than us play through on the tricky little par 3 5th. The two of them drove over the water and onto or close to the green. I thought Lucky was going to get his lights punched out by one of them as he started practicing his swing when one of the lads was taking his shot. The fact he was swinging was bad enough but then he smacked the ground and a big sod hit the lad teeing off as he was on his down stroke! Luckily the lad was ok about it.

By the time they had putted the next pair behind them had caught up to us too and I could see another game closing in quickly. No more playing through, sorry. I hate teeing off when people are watching as I end up rushing my shot just to get out of there and usually fuck up. Lucky teed off first with his hybrid and got the ball right in the middle…of the pond. Nicely done Sir! I used a 3 iron to make sure I cleared it and hit it into the reeds just before the green. Undaunted, Lucky tried again with his hybrid and hit a peach. If he were a degree or two to the left it seriously could have been a hole in one, it was a great shot.

We finished the hole and moved on to the next where I witnessed Lucky’s remarkable Bloodhound skills. He has an unerring ability to find his ball in the rough no matter how bad it is or how little he saw of it as it left his club.

He hit a really good tee shot that hooked into the rough a little as it rolled from the fairway. When we got there he couldn’t find it so hit another ball just in case. While walking up to the green he kept looking and spotted his ball buried in the rough. A second shot landed just shy of the dancefloor but he was happy. Before you know it he was chuffed to bits to get a par 4…until I reminded him that he actually got 5 whereupon he claimed I was ruining this game for him!

The round went on and for some reason my left hand got sorer and sorer until it got to a point where I couldn’t put any power into a shot without me getting shooting pains up my arm. That is a worry, I’m hoping I just bent or twisted it funny during the round, I hope it doesn’t flair up every time I play like some weird Tennis Elbow.

By the time we got to the ninth tee it was 6:15 and the sun was going down quickly, my hand was throbbing and the arseholes in front were still in the rough looking for their balls. The queue behind us had grown and I was now freezing. It was obvious to me that we weren’t going to get a full round in but Lucky was still up for it even if it meant playing on his own…in the dark! Eventually I convinced him to give it up and we shook hands on the 9th green to finish an eventful half round.

I wasn’t happy with the nine holes I played at all. My driving was shit and my putting has gone to the dogs. On the plus side my iron shots were pretty good – it looks like the Yellow & Blue Basket Challenge is paying off! I need to work with ‘Arthur’ before I play again – something I’m planning to do a lot next week at the range.

Monday 6 October 2008

30 - Addictive Basket Challenge Too Hard To Resist...

Like the night before the rain was coming down in sheets thick as lead and the wind was howling like erm, a howly thing so an hour at the range was the only logical thing to do. I sent Lucky a sneaky text and he phoned me back to say he was curled up in front of the fire like a cat or something. I mentioned the Yellow and Blue Basket Challenge and he said he would be at the range in 15 minutes!

Again the place was virtually deserted so we took a couple of bays near the end of the range to the right. As we got there I pondered how many balls I was going to slice clean out of the place onto the racecourse. The next Grand National will be a farce with all the horses slipping and sliding on the hundreds of balls littering the grass like a toddler falling on its arse after treading on marbles scattered across a laminate floor…or summat.

We limbered up by smashing balls up the range with our driver. Paul was his consistently long, consistently straight self with his ‘Lucky 13’ working well in the chill night. ‘Arthur’ was playing up. I couldn’t get the ball to go higher than my knee or further than I could spit. So frustrating. The solution was easy and predictable. All I did was keep my head still and the ball flew high, straight and handsome.

Then it was on to the hybrid. As Lucky said when he saw it, you can’t go wrong for a tenner. I tried it off the small tee and, like last week, it flew down the range with a low trajectory making it good for sneaky Sally Gunnell’s down the fairway. Is it supposed to do that? Surely it should fly high to gain more yards? It is more than likely that I’m mishitting it like all my other clubs.

After dicking about with the woods and hybrids it was time for the real reason we were at the range; Yellow and Blue Basket Challenge! First up was the yellow fella about 100 yards away. As I’m the reigning champion I went first and almost bingoed it immediately. Lucky isn’t as confident with his irons so wasn’t expecting much but after a few shots to get his eye in so to speak he was plopping balls around the basket. Game on.

The game went on for about 10 minutes with a lot of near misses until I hit a bit of a shanker that was dead on line but wasn’t going to danger any air traffic passing over. It flew low, bobbled a couple of times and then made it into the basket…I think! I was claiming it though and Lucky was gracious enough to give it to me anyway.

Next was attacking ‘Bluey’. 50 yards, freaky quarter swing with a 9 iron, addictive as fuck. Me and Lucky we launching balls quick and fast and getting much closer than the last challenge which is what you would expect seeing at the basket is within spitting distance. The game ended quickly as we ran out of balls without finding the target despite the squeals and howls from us.

I think I prefer playing when the weather is bad, it makes me feel like I’m suffering for my art or something…plus there is no queue and you can make as much noise as you want as you dick about trying to slice balls over the net at the side of the range. The important thing is that I’m still enjoying it.

Thursday 2 October 2008

29 - Not Quite A Wood, Not Really An Iron...

As it was pissing down with rain last night with the wind was howling like something out of a horror movie it was obvious that my mind would turn to an hour at the driving range. There is nothing better than spanking a yellow range ball out into the night with sheets of rain racing across the field giving you absolutely no control over your shots. That is the best way to practice in my opinion (and I’m drawing upon almost six weeks of experience here boys and girls).

I sent out a text to Alan, Lucky and Richie to see which brave souls would endure personal suffering in the pursuit of excellence. The response wasn’t great to be honest. Lucky was watching his brood and Richie would rather sit on his armchair and watch Liverpool (like the vast majority of their ‘fans’ it seems). Alan simply replied with the word ‘Roger’. He is a man among men if you ask me.

Before meeting Alan I had to pop out and pick up my latest internet purchase; my new £10 Howson Comp Plus Hybrid. First impressions were good. It looked the part (from others have seen) and was suitably shiny. The head was smaller than I was expecting but after thinking about it I came to the conclusion that I didn’t know one end of a hybrid club from another so my expectations were not based on anything so I should just get a grip.

I rocked up late at Aintree and had to wait for a bay. Actually, seeing as the Ryder Cup is now a distant memory to the gobshites who dusted down the clubs the other week for a whack, there was almost horizontal sheet rain sweeping across the range and it was after 8pm I had the choice of any bay I wanted with the exception of three – and one of those was occupied by Alan. Where are all the irritating, chain smoking Spanish bastards now eh? (Click here if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Alan had a look at my new weapon of score distruction and tried it out. He quickly commented that you don’t have to put much effort in to get some decent distance from it. I watched as he sliced shot after shot off towards the right-hand fence knowing that it was simply because he wasn’t used to the club…unfortunately, neither was I. Alan’s slice was a manageable, progressive wander out to the right whereas mine was a full blown 90* turn off the Astroturf. Hmmm, this might not be the bargain I thought.

I started my drills with ‘Arthur’. So often my saviour at Kirkby last week it seemed the magic had gone. I was back to sending the ball all the way out to the right. It would be fair to say that I was rustier than Prince Harry’s bollocks. After a few wasted balls I started to get back into it and finally began hitting it straight and long. Alan asked me how ‘Arthur’ was and I demonstrated my ability to pick out a target up the middle of the range and hit it by slicing the ball into a corner. Typical.

Next it was ‘Fivey’ and another round of the Yellow Basket Challenge! Alan went first and got close before waiting for me to try. The last time we played this game was the night where I couldn’t hit the ball never mind hit it straight so Alan was full of advice and encouragement. I didn’t need it as I sent a perfectly on target ball hurtling towards the basket. It didn’t go in but got close enough to show I meant business and that I had overcome my mid-iron demons.

After peppering the basket with balls I made the mistake of saying “As you might have noticed Al, I’ve changed my swing a bit to help me hit the ball more cleanly and more accurately.” With that I completely fucked my shot up leaving Alan to say something like “yeah, it is much better now!” It is always the way isn’t it? They call it the commentators curse on the telly…

After about 10 minutes it was obvious no-one was going to get it in so I had a couple of cracks with the hybrid. This time, after I’d loosened up, I was much improved. Off the small tee I was still slicing the ball but nowhere near as bad but it was off the floor I was impressed with. I’m not sure if the club is designed to do it but I was able to fire the ball off into the wind and rain at a shallow angle meaning it ran and ran – even in the uncut grass at the range. That could be useful.

I finished the night with a mini game of the Blue Basket Challenge. I mentioned in another post that my chipping was atrocious at Kirkby the other week so I’m keen to spend some time practicing. I realised late on in that round what I was doing wrong and corrected it so hopefully it is just a case of remembering the lesson and putting in the hours. Wish me luck.

Wednesday 1 October 2008

28 - Balls To You...Possibly!!!

I mentioned in a previous post that I have designed a little kangaroo that I draw on my balls so that when people find one of the many I have hacked into the rough they know it is mine and can get it on eBay to make a few bob on the back of my fame (I think it is important to give something back to my legions of fans. Ahem.) Anyway, I got around to drawing them.

As you can see on the slightly out of focus and generally shit photo, the little fellas are looking ok…well I think so anyway. I added a little line underneath his foot and tail to help me line up my putts (not that it works). According to one apparent ‘art critic’ the addition of the line makes it look like an Egyptian hieroglyph again. Listen mate, opinions are like arseholes; everyone has got one and I don’t want to listen you yours.

It may come as a shock to some of you but it is much easier drawing a little roo on a Post-it Note at your desk than it is to do on a ball on your couch. This accounts for the variation in quality of design on the balls (the one on the bottom looks like it has a massive stiffy for example whereas the one on the top and the left one look hot to trot). I’m proud of that little logo though and might stick it on more stuff.

While investigating websites that print shit on merchandise for the R.I.G.S. project, I found a couple of websites that will happily put logos on golf balls for a surprisingly small fee. For example, a dozen Callaway Warbird’s (currently my favourite rough finding missile) with a logo on cost about a fiver more than 12 blank ones. That isn’t bad, especially when you consider that a Sharpie marker costs eight whoring quid if you get it at the Aintree Driving Range…

So, all things being equal, there might be a few gleaming golf balls with my little roo professionally emblazoned on them finding their way into rough, bouncing off trees, plopping into water hazards, bouncing down dual carriageways and screaming through windows of nursing homes soon. Who knows, if you are good, I might even give some away in another of my famous competitions (only famous because they never seem to fucking happen).