Sunday 30 November 2008

49 - Rob Loves Jason (In A Strictly Non-Prison Movie Way)...

With my newly learned skills burning a hole in my, erm, head I arranged to meet Lucky at the driving range. I was desperate to see if the tips Jason had given me could be transferred when he wasn’t about. Lucky is now the proud owner of a set of Nike SUMO irons and was desperate to give them a whack. I wanted to have a swing with his bats too as they are ‘game improvement’ clubs similar to what I’m looking to get.

Lucky was playing 5-a-side before meeting me but said there shouldn’t be a problem spending an hour at the range. As I walked in I saw a problem, namely the state he was in. He looked like he had slept rough and then ran to the range from Rhyl or summat then, as he went to speak, he almost coughed up a lung. I’m not so sure all that running around was doing the little fella any favours!

We found a couple of bays at the end of the range and I started going through what Jason has taught me. I brought a tee with me and used it to line the ball up with my target as part of the G.A.S.P. routine. With everything in place I concentrated on my final position and swung at the ball. The little range ball rocketed off the face of ‘Arthur’ into the chill night air. Lucky instantly commented on how much further I hit it compared to my usual effort. Loving Jason’s work!!!

There were some weird noises coming from the next bay as Lucky tried to swing his driver after an hour of 5-a-side and nursing a sore shoulder…he sounded like a constipated Wookie! In the end he decided that it was just too painful to use the big fella and concentrated on his shiny, new clubs. For a fair few shots it was too painful for me to watch as he screwed up over and over again.

I continued with my G.A.S.P. routine and, true to Jason’s word, slowly but surely it started to feel more natural – even the weird left hand/right hand grip although I’m concerned that I’m probably doing it wrong now! I concentrated on the follow through and turning my body to get extra distance which was working an absolute treat. My only concern is that my accuracy has gone to shit but I’m sure I can get it back with a bit of practice.

Actually I’m talking out of my arse. My accuracy had gone to shit with ‘Arthur’ but with everything else it was ok, with my 7 iron it was fantastic. We had a crack at the yellow basket challenge and usually I use ‘Fivey’ to reach the target. I took a chance when heading to the car and took my 7 iron and ‘Mac’ 56* Knife wedge instead of ‘Fivey’ and ‘Niney’ hoping that the new improved swing would work. Boy did it work.

Normally it takes me five or six shots before I start getting close to the yellow basket but with the G.A.S.P. routine and my full swing I was close to the target from the very start. It was the most consistent I have ever been at the range and it was only a matter of time before I bingoed the target to win. Lucky was struggling to get used to his new clubs but was starting to get a feel for them.

Next it was on to the Blue Basket challenge and a chance to practice the high trajectory chip that Jason explained I would use on almost every hole. I didn’t manage to hit the target but the ground around the basket was littered with yellow range balls which was good to see. I’m gonna concentrate a lot on that shot.

Once we had finished our mini-competition I had a few swings with Lucky’s SUMO ‘game improvement’ clubs. After just a few balls I can see why they are recommended for people like me who are relatively new to the game. It is a lot more difficult to hit a bad shot with the SUMO’s compared to my Callaway’s and the more I used them the more distance and accuracy I was getting. I’m convinced it is the way to go for me.

As I walked to the car my head was spinning again, I didn’t want to leave and was amazed with the difference in my game. I still am rubbish but I could see a definite improvement thanks to Jason. I’m itching to practice more but I’m crazy busy all week, I have to get my priorities in order. Fuck it, the Christmas presents, meeting preparation and management report can wait, I’ve got a swing to practice!!!

Tuesday 25 November 2008

48 - Weirdness in Widnes…

Sunday was the day I received my free golf lesson. I won’t lie I was bricking it. I know, I know, I’m getting free lessons on a private course from a golf pro so I should be excited as a kid at Christmas but the fact of the matter I wasn’t looking forward to it. The reason for the apprehension is simple; I’m shit.

I hate the fact that after all the hours of practice I’ve put in I’m almost as bad as the first time I went to the driving range in September. I was hoping that Jason (the lovely, lovely pro at Widnes Golf Course) could wave a magic wand and help me improve overnight. The bad news is that he couldn’t, the good news is that he has shown me some things that will hopefully help me become better with practice.

I set my alarm for 9 o’clock (on a Sunday!!!) but I woke up at 6 for some strange reason. The strange reason turned out to be hail stones the size of Pro V1’s smashing against my bedroom window. Hmmm, this was going to be a good day. I got up a couple of hours later and checked to see if the hail had stopped. It had…only to be replaced by rain coming down in horizontal sheets as thick as Colin Montgomery’s big, fat belly.

I sent a quick text to Terry (who arranged the lesson) to confirm that we were still going but didn’t hear anything so I dragged my carcass to the bathroom to get ready. I had spent a lot of time the night before ironing all my swanky golf gear (“like a sad bastard” I hear you shout) so I at least looked the part even if I was as much use as training shoes on Stephen Hawkins.

I hauled my bats to the car through the rain and wind and headed down the motorway. The car was being blown from lane to lane and my wipers were doing ten to the dozen. Oh I was looking forward to playing on a presumably difficult course, in the howling wind and rain with the eyes of a golf pro on me scrutinising my every move!

I picked up Terry and we headed to the course. As I was getting my stuff together Terry went in to see Jason to check that we could still play seeing as the weather was so bad. I turns out that the course had just opened as the weather had broken so we were ok to head off. At this point I wanted to be anywhere else in the world, I REALLY wasn’t up to playing but I gritted my teeth and headed for the first tee.

Terry and Jason smashed their drives miles into the distance then it was my turn. Jason asked me to tee off and he would check what I was doing. Knowing that I was going to slice the shite out of it with ‘Arthur’ I decided to play it safe and use ‘Dougie’ the hybrid. I got myself ready, took a deep breath and promptly hooked my ball into the rough about 150 yards away. Class.

As we walked through the trees, looking for my kangaroo marked Nike ball I reflected on how empty and tidy the course was, a real change to what I’m used to which is, of course, a scall infested municipal littered with crap. On reflection though I can’t really afford the £750 annual membership fee so I’ll have to put up with the odd rusty Stella can on the greens and kids on motorbikes tear-arsing across the fairway.

True to form I lost my first ball on the first hole but we did find three in the process of looking for it including a Titleist Pro V1 so it is swings and roundabouts I reckon. I didn’t realise it at the time but Jason must have been studying me like Harold Shipman studied a rich widow. Everything I did was apparently being analysed as when we got to the 2nd tee he was ready with advice.

It seems I have been gripping the club almost completely wrong from day one. Jason got me to grip the club in a weird and totally unnatural way (for me anyway) and then swing. My shot was garbage but the pro seemed pleased which confused me. He explained that the final position of the ball wasn’t important today; it was all about getting my setup and swing right.

I used to go through a little routine before hitting the ball but it has slipped a little recently. Jason insisted that I start doing it again as if I didn’t get my setup right there was no chance of hitting the ball consistently which is one of the most important things in golf. Time to get my G.A.S.P. on. What is G.A.S.P. Rob? Well I’ll tell you.

G.A.S.P stands for Grip, Aim, Stance, Position and is the four things I will now check religiously before hitting the ball. What you have to do is ensure your grip is correct, check you are actually aiming at the target, sort your feet out so they are square with the ball and usually at shoulder width and then check the ball is in the correct position between your feet for the club you are using.

It sounds a bit of a ball ache but after a few holes it became second nature if not completely straightforward or comfortable. To be honest, it is the things I SHOULD be doing anyway but haven’t. With Jason’s help and patience I learned the importance of getting it right EVERY time and slowly started to reap the rewards.

Another thing he showed me was one of the shots I’d be using time and time again; the high trajectory chip. And Jason is a guy with class; he uses Vokey wedges…get in my son!!! He showed me how to set up to hit the ball, showed me where my body weight should be and showed me how my arms should swing through the ball. Then Terry showed us both something, namely some bushes to hide in to get out of the sudden hailstorm that almost did for my ears.

Once I had G.A.S.P. sorted Jason moved on to my non-existent follow through. He filmed me on his phone and then ran some funky software that showed that my setup was good, my backswing was ok but I didn’t shift my weight forward and follow through after hitting the ball. This is a big problem if you want the ball to fly any distance apparently.

He asked me to go through the G.A.S.P. routine without a ball in front of me and then turn towards the hole so my chest was square with it. As I did my right heel automatically came up and I was in a pose I recognised from the telly but felt strange doing. Jason explained that I should end up in this position for most of the shot I make.

Time to put all the theory into practice. I teed the ball up and went through my G.A.S.P. routine. I took a deep breath and, concentrating on my final position, swung at the ball confident that I was going to hit a peach. What I actually hit was the green diagonally across from us as I sliced the shit out of my shot. I was absolutely gutted but put on a brave face. I genuinely felt that I had let Jason down and that all his hard work was in vain.

When he came back with my ball I went to apologise to Jason for fucking up so spectacularly but before I could he said that he was pleased with the shot. Eh? He explained that I got all the G.A.S.P. checks right, swung through the ball well and ended in the correct final position. The only thing that wasn’t ok was the actual shot but he assured me that would come with practice.

He gave me the ball and asked me to do the same thing again. I was now a bag of nerves but went through the whole routine again. This time I smashed the ball for what I thought was miles down the fairway! Not only that but the shot was straight and where I aimed it! Jason is a genius! I swaggered down the fairway to my ball, my chest swelled with pride.

When we got to the ball I found I was only a few yards behind Terry who was only a few yards behind a certified pro! Those two were good players using VERY expensive drivers whereas I was a clown with a £10 recovery club yet I was almost matching them. That shot was a milestone in my golfing life and made me hungry and determined to play more and more. Of course I fucked up my next shot but that is beside the point.

We carried on around the course with Jason helping tweak my game all the time. I told him that he must have the patience of a saint to put up with the likes of me but he just smiled and explained that he is doing something that he loves.

I’m not sure if he loved our entire round together seeing as I’m rubbish, it was 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning, it was close to freezing out on the course and we were regularly getting soaked by driving rain or pummelled by hail stones! The hail was so bad on what turned out to be our last hole that the green turned white and we had to hide in a shelter for 5 minutes.

After I putted for the final time I shook Jason’s hand and thanked him for being kind enough to give me a free lesson and putting up with my grunts, swearing and terrible shots. I thought he had been so cool that I hugged him. I think he appreciated the hug although when I let go I did notice that his eyes were screaming with terror. Bless.

We walked back to the car in our soaking wet clothes and I suddenly felt drained. As we got to the car park Jason’s next lesson arrived. He was about to go back out on the course in the driving rain/sleet/hail and try and help some other bloke who would struggle with Crazy Golf let alone the real thing. I’ll tell you something; he must REALLY love his job.

As I drove back to Terry’s to drop him off my head was spinning with everything I had learned. I was itching to get to the driving range with Lucky to show him what I had picked up but in the end I was exhausted and he couldn’t be bothered (I can always rely on Lucky!)

I had hit just two good shots all morning but that wasn’t the point. Jason had given me the foundation I needed to build upon, now it is up to me to pull my finger out practice until it is all second nature.

Friday 21 November 2008

47 - Salmon Pink, Tangerine And Other Manly Colours...

With the big day approaching (I’m talking about my lesson’s with the lovely pro at Widnes golf course not the imminent exit of that whining skank Rachel from the X Factor – ahem) I decided to go on a mini shopping spree to make sure I’m all set for the game. I have the majority of stuff needed but could do with a few ‘essentials’.

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I have stocked up on golf balls. Richie told me when I first started playing that until I’m any good it doesn’t really matter what balls I use. With this in mind I pored over magazines, scoured the Internet and decided I needed Titleist Pro V1’s as they provide the distance off the tee and control around the green a player like me demands. Then I saw they were £32 a dozen. Fuck that.

So there I was, on the first tee at Kirkby with my £10 a dozen Callaway Warbird’s with the cross of St George proudly emblazoned on them and my silly little kangaroo drawn on the bottom. Needless to say, I’ve played five rounds in total now and they have all gone, lost to rough, trees and swamps. RIP little Callaway’s. To be honest I’ve lost a load of shite Dunlop’s too but I’m not that arsed about them. Oh and some new Slazenger B52’s.

So I needed some new hazard finding missiles and wasn’t going to pay too much for them. A quick look around Sports Soccer (or whatever it is called, you know the place, in the corner of Speke retail park – I’m not going through all that again) and I found some luminous yellow Donnay balls at a very reasonable price. I’m not THAT fucking stupid so I bought two-dozen Nike NDX distance balls instead.

As it is now November I need some warm gear to play in. I had a choice; top of the range, breathable, waterproof gear from some Scandinavian manufacturer that makes expensive stuff exclusively for golfers or some long sleeve polo shirts. I’m now the proud owner of two long sleeve polo shirts…although they aren’t exactly what I paid for.

I went on to my favourite online golf emporium and notice they had a cool 3-for-2 offer on certain golf shirts. After a bit of perusing I chose a plain white shirt, a black shirt with some rather fetching pink pinstripes and a funky looking ‘tangerine’ Callaway short sleeve top (it was like a dark, rust colour on the picture). Hmmm, everything is not really as it should be.

The package arrived and my white shirt is present and correct. It goes a bit Pete Tong after that though. Instead of sending a black shirt with pink pinstripes I’ve actually got a pink top with black stripes. Very fetching I’m sure you can imagine? Actually, it reminds me of the salmon pink Everton away kit from the 90’s so I’m keeping it. The Callaway shirt isn’t a dark rust colour it is, as advertised, tangerine. Again, very fetching and again I’m keeping it!

To be honest, the only place two of these tops will ever be worn is at the private course at Widnes as I fear for my safety turning up at a municipal in a salmon pink top. The scalls in their England shirts, Lacoste tracksuit bottoms and Reebok Classic’s would literally tear me limb from limb…especially when they see how shit I am. They will think I’m taking the piss out of them (if they are capable of coherent thought that is?)

So when I turn up to play at Widnes with the pro I’m going to look like what can only be described as a twat. Couple this with the fact that I’m useless and have had almost no practice for the last few weeks and you can understand the day can’t come quick enough for me!!! This is going to be a car crash.

Saturday 15 November 2008

46 - £250 Off? Every Little Helps...

I hate being confused, which is a shame as golf confuses me daily. The latest head wrecker is the new clubs I’m going to get after Christmas. I’ve pretty much decided that I’m plumping for a set of Mizuno MX-100’s as they tick a lot of the boxes on my wish list. They are relatively cheap, they are ‘game improvement’ clubs and they have received good reviews in the magazines.

So what is the problem Rob? The problem is that I’ve just been to The American Golf Shop and found that I can pick up a brand new set of Callaway Big Bertha’s for a hundred quid less than the Mizuno’s. A set of Callaway irons (4-SW) for £269 (RRP £600), which are ‘game improvement’ clubs that have received good reviews in the magazines.

Hmmm. After a bit of research the deal isn’t quite as good as it first sounds. The Callaway’s are actually Big Berta 06’s meaning they have been about for around three years and aren’t exactly at the cutting edge when it comes to club technology. Although saying that, they aren’t exactly budget shite knocked up by a no name manufacturer from behind the former iron curtain either.

One of the reason’s I am getting a new set is to take advantage of the developments that have been made in club design in a desperate attempt to get better at this Goddamn game. So, do I choose the slightly older but almost certainly better quality Callaway’s or the brand new, totally up to date Mizuno’s?

The question gets more complicated with the aid of Google. A quick search shows that I can get my chubby little mitts on the Mizuno’s for a tenner more than the Callaway’s, which makes them even better in my eyes. Decisions, decisions.

Actually, what I think I’ll do is wait until the January sales and see what the shops have on offer. The imminent recession should help me get more for my money as the stores desperately clamour for cash that may well not be there. “£350 for those bats? Pah! What can you do? I want money off, I want custom fitting, I want a discount on hybrids and woods oh and throw in some other free shit”.

Come to think of it, American Golf actually do most of that with the Callaway’s and I bet if I turned up with an envelope stuffed with cash they would do it with the Mizuno’s too. For fuck sake, I’m back to square one.

Friday 14 November 2008

45 - Practice Makes Permanently Shit...

As I’m getting some free lessons from a genuine golf pro I thought it only fitting to practice my bad habits fully so he can show me where I’m going wrong (I know, I’m a giver). There was only one thing for it, a trip to the trust driving range. A couple of texts later and Alan was in. After goading Lucky, he decided to come too in an attempt to teach me a lesson or summat.

It is fair to say that after a lack of golf for a few weeks I was rustier than Christopher Reeves auld wheelchair. I couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with a banjo. ‘Arthur’ was all over the place with me managing to hook the shit out of the ball and slice it widely with annoying regularity. Thankfully ‘Dougie’ Howson was as reliable as a Volkswagen. Shot after creamy shot flew long and straight into the freezing night air.

It took me a good 15 balls to hit one good shot with ‘Fivey’ which had me more worried than usual. I could spot some obvious mistakes like slicing the ball a few feet away because I was standing too close to it but other mistakes had me baffled. Why am I finding it SO hard to hit the ball in the sweet spot? Why to I almost break my fingers with another shot off the toe or rattle my fillings out as the heel cracks the ball. I changed everything I could but was still all over the place.

I had a bit more joy with ‘Mac’ the Knife 56* wedge. I showed Lucky’s lad how to chip the ball high with the wedge but then couldn’t do the shot myself. After a few minor adjustments I was back on track, firing balls 20 feet down the range covered in snow (not literally you understand – as soon as it starts snowing I will be making snowballs to throw at the North Face wearing scalls who litter our streets – ahem).

After the warm up me, Alan and Lucky started the Blue & Yellow Basket Challenge. We were all over the place at first but Alan was the first to find his range as he peppered the baskets with crappy yellow golf balls. Soon after, Lucky got his act together and missed the target by inches a few times to howls of derision from the stocky ball of fury. I never got close. At all.

Eventually Alan bingoed ‘Big Yeller’ to win the long game but we all failed to chip into the blue basket despite it being within pissing distance (if I would have had a full bladder after a few pints obviously). I came away from the range happy to have smacked a few balls and met my mates but nervous about how crap I have gone. The pro is going to have his work cut out…

Wednesday 12 November 2008

44 - The Prospect Of Professional Help Is Scary...

I received an interesting phone call the other day. A friend of mine, and avid Robs Adventure In Golf blog reader, rang to say that he had arranged for me to get a bit of professional help. I instantly thought I was going to get sectioned (or be forced to spend a few hours with a primary school English teacher to help with my atrocious punctuation and sentence structure as displayed all over this little corner of the internet).

Thankfully it turns out Terry had arranged for me to play nine holes with the pro at his local track in Widnes. Nicely done!!! It seems that Terry has been printing of my stuff and showing it to the pro at his private course who has been laughing at my pathetic attempts to play the hardest son-of-a-bitch game ever devised by man. I’m not sure if it is pity or just a morbid curiosity to see if I’m THAT shite but the pro has decided to help me out.

I have to meet Terry at 10 a week Sunday so he can show me the course then we tee off at 10:30. After slicing my first tee shot I’ll no doubt be teeing off again at 10:31. Ahem. As I am a guest of Terry I’m going to be on my best behaviour. I won’t be swearing as the ball flies arrow-like into the trees, I won’t be throwing my 7 iron down the fairway after scuffing another shot and I won’t be sobbing like a girl as I miss another easy putt.

Joking aside I’m actually really nervous about the whole thing. Apparently Terry is a really good player (I’ve never subjected him to 18 holes of torture) and the pro is, well, a pro so I’m going to look a complete and utter fucknugget even if I do what I would consider as ok. I know I’m kinda missing the point as I’m there to learn but never the less it is still putting the shits up me. Put it this way, I’m so confident of failure that I’ve just bought 24 new balls!!!

Then again, I could have a couple of hours tuition, work out where I have been going wrong and suddenly elevate myself from ‘absolutely useless’ to the heady heights of ‘just shit’. Stop sniggering at the back, it could happen.

At the end of my session I hope to have had a good morning on a nice course and come away with some tips on how to improve my game. Actually, I’ll be chuffed if the pro can just get me to hit the same shot consistently even if it isn’t perfect, at least that way I have got something to build on. My motto is ‘aim low, you haven’t got as far to fall’ – I’m an ambitious guy.

Terry has also offered to sign us in sometime in the future so me, him, Richie and Lucky can have a pairs competition at his nice course. With that in mind the worse thing that will happen during my soiree is that I’ll have the inside scoop on the first nine holes of course which might just give me the tiniest advantage over Lucky when we commence battle. Chances are though, it won’t make a blind bit of difference!

Tuesday 11 November 2008

43 - Second Annual (Drunken) Tiger Woods Challenge...

After the overwhelming success of the first Annual Tiger Woods Drunken Challenge we decided to make it a regular thing. The premise is simple; four players take on one of the beautifully rendered courses on EA Sports Tiger Woods 09 on the Playstation 3. The kicker is that we all, as raging piss heads, drink our way around the course until the last few holes become a blur. It is a laugh!

Kev was the host with the most last time so I decided to step up and hold the second event at my gaff on Friday 7th October with a strict tee time of 19:30. There was no danger of anyone missing the start of the game as I also got mugged into being the fucking taxi service for the game too (as well as waitress, chef and chief pot and bottle washer).

There was a real incentive to do well in this round of the league as Paddy decided to donate a ‘fine’ trophy to be presented to the winner…but he forgot to bring it so that was that. The other incentive was to beat Kev ‘Man Citeh’ Long who had been sledging everyone with access to Facebook, explaining in detail how hard he was going to spank our arses (I hope he was just talking about the game).

The game started after we’d all selected our characters and the course. Again I went John Daley, Kev went Vijay Singh, Pat went Ian Poulter (resplendent in his tartan kecks) but Richie changed this time around and selected Jim Furyk. Was this tactics from Richie? Nah, apparently he just fancied a change.

Because Kev had been practicing SO much in an effort to eek out any advantage we decided to use the random course generator which would select 18 holes from all the courses available meaning that the first could be at St Andrews, the second at Sawgrass etc. This should make the game a bit more unpredictable and hopefully a bit more enjoyable. We also knocked all the settings up a little to make it a bit harder.

The game started and Kev roared to an early lead. The rest of us were playing catch up and I was doing worryingly bad. We discovered that Poulter can drive the ball as far as Daley and that Kev’s practice was paying off. Richie was doing surprisingly well seeing as he hasn’t actually got a copy of the game. We also learned that putting ‘Sweet Caroline’ on by Neil Diamond was a mistake as everyone stopped playing as started singing…

Kev was playing cautiously, learning from our mistakes but this would fail spectacularly on a tricky par 4 a few holes in. The hole in question was at Wolf Creek, a spectacular track plonked in the middle of a desert mountain range. The greens and fairways seem to have been lifted from another course and placed in the gaps between the peaks. It is a brilliant course.

The par 4 was relatively short, but not quite drivable because the green was behind a mountain peak! It was a classic dog-leg right but I knew it could be made if you hit the right shot. I went first and curled the ball around the peak and into a bunker protecting the green – job done in my book. Kev watched my shot and hit his ball up the fairway giving him a fairly long shot onto the green. Richie, bless him, fucked up two shots before ending up next to Kev. Then it was time for Paddy to shine!

The youngest player showed he had balls as big as Colin Montgomery’s gut as he blasted his tee shot high over the peak and onto the green. Well played Sir! Both me and Paddy pulled shots back, cutting Kev’s lead. Was this a turning point in the game? Erm, no. Kev continued to play well, keeping just ahead of me and a few shots ahead of Paddy who was playing erratically to say the least. A par on one hole followed by an eagle on the next – he was spectacularly inconsistent.

The game went on for an further hour and as it drew to a close Kev had a three shot lead with two holes to go. It was all over bar the shouting. I just kept plugging away knowing that there was always a chance he could screw up a tee shot or miss an easy putt. Amazingly Kev had a wobble and parred the 17th while I eagled it meaning I was just one shot behind with one hole to play.

The last hole was a par 5. I hit a decent tee shot and was on the green in two albeit about 60 feet from the hole. Unfortunately Kev was also on the green in two and was closer to the hole but still about 30 feet from the pin. I was first to putt and took my time lining it up. This extra time paid dividends as my ball plopped into the hole for an eagle! All Kev had to do was two putt for the win but the nerves got to him and he fucked up…twice! Victory was mine and Kev was absolutely gutted.

Paddy, ever the gentleman, took great pleasure in rubbing Kev’s face in it for about half an hour before we decided to have another round of the competition. I won’t lie; the second round is a blur as the ale made its merry way through my system. What I do remember was eagling the first and never looking back. Kev and Paddy were hilarious with there posing, sledging and celebrations after each good shot. By this time Richie was simply bladdered!

At the end I won by a few shots but the real drama was the battle for second. Paddy, like me earlier, pulled it out of the bag to snatch a draw with Kev on the last hole. This wasn’t satisfactory for either of them though so we had a play-off. Best out of three would sort the men from the boys. Actually, all it did was show just how close the two of them were. In the end we were adding all kinds of clauses to get a winner. ‘First in a bunker loses’, ‘first in the rough loses’ etc.

Eventually, after what seemed like about 10 holes Paddy made the break through and snatched second place from a now distraught Kev. Paddy was almost as unbearable in victory as Kev had been in the build up before hand. The two of them are different sides of the same coin!

Overall it was a good night, the ale flowed, the game was good and no-one died. Kev has vowed to take revenge in the next round of the league where we are playing for the prestigious Saxon Way medal. I can’t wait and I suspect I’m not alone…

Wednesday 5 November 2008

42 – Sowing The Seeds Of Doubt…

After drooling over the new equipment being churned out by all and sundry I have convinced myself that a new set of bats is what I need. I have a dilemma though – can someone who is shit buy expensive clubs? Well of course they can. Should someone who is shit buy expensive clubs? Ah, that is a toughie in my opinion.

Is there anything worse that a beut with, as the guy on Bootle golf course said to me, “all the gear but no idea”, rocking up and hacking his way in front of you for five hours? I don’t wanna be that guy. There is a world of difference between paying £50 for a pair of gleaming white shoes and £500 for a set of unfeasibly shiny clubs…or is there? I’m confused.

Here is the thing though, I want to improve and I want to eek out any advantage I can which could mean buying bats more suited to my shitty game. The clubs I have now are Callaway Steelheads X16 which are supposed to be pretty good and I’m sure, in the hands of someone with a little talent, they will perform admirably. Is the problem me or the clubs? I’m betting it isn’t the clubs that got 9.5/10 in a Guardian review a few years ago.

Actually, that might be a point. The review I just dug up was from 2003 which means that by now the Callaway’s could be completely out of date in terms of technology and design although clubs don’t change that much in five years surely? I know there is an arms race when it comes to drivers but clubs are just, well, clubs aren’t they? Maybe not.

The mags keep banging on about ‘game-improvement’ clubs which make it easier to hit consistent shots more of the time. That sounds right up my street seeing as the only consistent thing about my golf at the minute is my inconsistency. It may sound up its own arse but it is true, I’m finding it difficult to hit the same shot twice.

So I should plump for a set of ‘idiot proof’ clubs until I improve and then get a better set. I can justify it to myself as I know I’ll play more if I’m enjoying it and the fact I’ve just spent a bomb on the things will make me get my moneys worth out of them. But in the back of my mind I would be conscious of being that tool on the first tee that everyone is sniggering at because he thinks he can just buy his way into the game.

Maybe a set of second hand clubs would be a good compromise but yet again I’d be using old technology? Christ on a bike, I haven’t been this confused since the first time I saw a diagram of a lady’s fun parts in a biology book.

Tuesday 4 November 2008

41 - Pretty Coloured Holes and Gemma Atkinson…

I’ve been away, did you miss me? No? Bastards! I’ve been on a training course to learn how to ‘Maintain and Administer a Windows 2003 Server Environment’ – it was as interesting as it sounds – so I haven’t had much time to play golf. Actually, I have had NO time to play golf. I have had a chance to read Golf Whine Monthly though which is turning me on more and more.

From the looks of things the new equipment for next year is released in the autumn meaning the magazines are filled with obscenely attractive woods, shiny new clubs, pornographic wedges, alien looking putters and funky arsed bags. Some of the pages of my magazines are stuck together…but I don’t really want to go into that right now.

Golf clubs look good in my opinion. I like the shape of simple blade clubs, the minimalist design and the focus on the materials. Tell you what though, cavity backed clubs are the fucking shit! Have you seen some of the stuff coming out? The fact that there is a gaping wound in the back of the club seems to inspire the designers to go mad…or to just fill them with pretty colours to hoike in the morons. Hmmm…

Needless to say, just about every manufacturer has a new set of woods, irons, putters and wedges for 2009. All look fantastic but some more fantastic than others. By now you lot must know that I can’t go a whole article about equipment without talking about the Titleist Vokey wedges.

I have dark thoughts when I think of the Vokey; I want them more than Gemma Atkinson (right - feel free to click on the image for a better look) oiled up wearing nothing but a smile! Actually that is bollocks.

I need a cold shower…and a 56* Titleist Vokey with the oil can finish. If everyone who read this blog gave me £1 it would go some way towards me buying one. Unfortunately, seeing as there are only about five of you out there reading it, it would be a very short way. Never mind, I can see a Christmas present to myself coming up.

Anyway, not only does the Vokey look the absolute business, it is also the best wedge you can buy according to Golf Whine Monthly. In a recent group test with five other wedges from the likes of Callaway and TaylorMade it stood head and shoulders above the competition to receive one of the highest marks ever given. Due to the extra choice of shaft stiffness it has gone from one of the very best to THE very best.

See, and you lot thought I wanted one because it has a cool bronze finish which wears away until the club starts rusting to give it a battered ‘junk yard dog’ look. Ooops, I think I need another cold shower…