135 - Putt It Away...

After my lesson in golf fundamentals from Terry it was off to Widnes Golf Club for a session on the practice green. Now that I was able to drill the ball effortlessly 150 yards with some degree of accuracy it was time to face a whole different challenge as I tried to sink a measly 3-foot putt. How hard could it be?

After 15 frustrating minutes the answer was that it is extremely hard. I soon discovered that I couldn’t read greens; I have a touch as subtle as the Yorkshire Ripper and seemingly the inability to learn from mistakes, three qualities that are no doubt the envy of every player out there!

As on the field earlier, Terry showed me how it was done before watching me and correcting the problems. With his first putt he stepped up and put the ball a couple of inches from the hole seemingly without trying so I was confident I wouldn’t be too far behind him. I was wrong, very wrong.

It took me a quarter of an hour to even get the ball within chipping distance of the cup. To make matters worse, there were players at the club putting in a bit of practice before teeing off also making it look ridiculously easy. Now this was really winding me up but I stuck to the task and tried to put Terry’s advice into action.

Eventually I got into the swing of things and started getting my shots close; close enough to change my average from three putts to two. Then Terry threw a spanner in the works by making me practice on longer finishes that had me back at square one for a short time untilI found my range again.

Before leaving I had a little practice of chipping onto the green from about 20 feet away from the pin. I found that getting it onto the green is quite easy but getting it close is a whole different story. Again Terry gave me instruction and again I got better with each shot until I got tired and couldn’t hit the ball cleanly anymore.

Overall it was a great afternoon of tuition and practice. I had learned so much in four and a half hours and regained my appetite to play. Terry kept repeating that I need to practice to improve, something that I genuinely intend to do.

131 - Sick Of Being Sick...

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!! I’m sick of being sick of being shit at golf so I’ve decided to do something radical about it; I’m getting lessons...well actually I’m not, but I am really. I realise that I’m making as much sense as the instruction manual for a Chinese video recorder so I better explain.

A while back I was fortunate enough to get a free lesson from the Pro at Widnes Golf Club and my game improved immeasurably. I’m certain that with a few more lessons I would have been well on the way to my realistic target of playing off 18 but it never materialised and I soon slipped back into the bad habits which have left me on the verge of throwing my clubs into the canal.

I got in contact with the friend who hooked me up with the free lesson to see what the going rate was these days for expert tuition from a Pro; I was told to save my money as he could go through the basics with me for free – result. Terry is a decent player so I’m confident he will be able to help me out.

I’ve been told to bring a 3 wood, 7 iron, 9 iron and wedge and he will go through the routine with them all on the field at the back of his house. I might bring my 5 iron too so I have the full game set (how often do you use a 3 or 4 iron on the course?) Terry said he has a load of auld balls for me to slice across the field too so that is one less thing to worry about.

He also asked me to bring my putter too as we are going to his course to knock a few in on the practice green. I’m looking forward to this part as I’ve never really practiced my putting, I just turn up at the course and three putt my way around the 18 greens like a true clown. I want to see what the Bettinardi can do.

I’m not setting my sights too high but I’m hoping on getting the basics right so I have something to work on over the summer. Once I’m more confident about my stance, grip, alignment and swing I’ll go out with better players but at the moment I’m reluctant to make a fool of myself in front of them although I know they would be supportive and helpful.

It is a strange ‘Catch 22’. I need more practice with help from good players but I won’t go out with them as I’m not good enough. I should bite the bullet, swallow my pride and slice my way around Widnes Golf Club with Terry, Allerton Golf Course with Richie and West Derby Golf Club with Alan, who knows, I might actually get a bit better.

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.

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.

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!