To see if I was going to continue playing golf in the future I gave myself two tests to pass. Firstly, I had to have a good session at the driving range with Richie (including reducing my horrible slice, getting the balls to go in the general direction I wanted them to and, most importantly, to enjoy myself). Secondly, I decided to play a round at Kirkby on my own to see if I could do it without any help or encouragement.
I had fallen out of love with the sport in the last few weeks. I had been putting the effort in, practicing hard, devoting time and money to the game yet was getting nowhere fast. To be honest, the only part of golf I was enjoying was writing this blog and drooling over golf porn (monster drivers with weights you could customise, expensive wedges, putters that look like ships from a Star Trek film etc).
If things didn’t go well over the next two days then I was going to jack the lot in or at least drastically reduce the amount of time I was devoting to it.
Yesterday I went to Aintree with Richie and had a great session to be honest. I even won the blue net challenge! He tweaked my game slightly (back to what I was doing properly a few weeks ago ironically) and I was back on track. All I needed was a decent round at Kirkby and there would be no more hissy fits and no more posts on here filled with tales of woe and sorrow, I could get back to trying to improve and hopefully enjoying the game again.
I wanted to play in peace so I arrived at the course at 7:10 confident that I would be the only person there. Was I shite. The car park was a quarter full and there was a queue to tee off. Haven’t this lot got anything better to do than be playing golf on a beautiful, crisp autumnal morning? Hmmm, just read that back and think I know the answer!
History will show that I always slice my first shot on a course and today was no different. Knowing that I would slice the ball I compensated by aiming at the river which runs the length of the first hole to the left. I may have compensated a little too much though as my training, allied to the Hippo John Daly driver Paul from work lent me helped the ball sail perilously close to the water, eventually rolling inches from the rough on the left of the fairway.
A decent, if a little short, second shot put me within chipping distance of the green. Time to bring out the 56* wedge and get the control on the green I needed. After today’s round I know I need to practice my chipping…a lot. I managed to top the ball which resulted in the ball fizzing across the green and into the trees at the back of the hole. A second chip was required. A third was needed seconds later as the ball shot back to where it had originally come from. Fuck this, I decided to use the putter from the fairway, it is easier. Minutes later I had a six on the first par four – a par in Rob’s Scoring.
This was pretty much the pattern for the entire round. Decent tee shot (majorly happy with this by the way), half decent iron to the edge of the green (sometimes in the rough though but you can’t have everything) then hacking the ball all over the bastard place with my wedge or 9 iron (pain in the arse) before two or three putting (not happy with this, my putting has gone down hill I reckon).
Playing your second shot from the fairway makes a big difference. The last time I played Kirkby and all through the round at Bootle my second shot was usually an exercise in trying to get the ball back into a playable position rather than going for the green.
I was impressed with the Hippo club Paul lent me. I was able to hit the ball relatively far and reasonably straight which helped me attack the green with my second shot. I was so impressed with the wood that I sent Paul an email via my BlackBerry on the 13th green to say that he wasn’t getting it back and asking him how much he wanted for it. “A 20 spot” came the reply. Job done, it now lives in my bag permanently!
Talking of the 13th, it is a big dog leg right par five that I struggled with last time. With the help of the ‘Arthur’ (John Daly – Arthur Daly…geddit?) and two good iron shots I was on the green in 3. I three putted to give me a score of 6 or a birdie in Rob’s Scoring! Get in. Oh and I managed not to completely fuck up any of the son-of-a-bitch par 3’s either! At this rate I’ll crack the magical sub-100 mark in the next 12 months I reckon…
I continued my way around the course and even played through four auld fella’s who seemed to spend as much time arguing as they did playing! As I was passing them they were discussing a ball one of them had found in the rough, I swear (and so did they – a lot) the conversation went some thing like this:
“Have you found your ball yet because there is one here? What are you playing?”
“Golf.”
“I know you are playing golf! What fucking ball are you using?!”
“Well why did you ask what I was playing then soft arse?”
“I meant what ball are you playing.”
“Well why didn’t you fucking say that?”
“For fuck sake. What ball are you playing?”
“A white one.”
“Are you taking the piss?”
“Eh? Oh, does it say Terry on it?”
“No, nothing. Hang on John, who the fuck is Terry?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well why would your ball have Terry on it?”
“You never know!”
“Are you trying to fucking wind me up?”
I played through, laughing my head off. It was good to see that it wasn’t just me who got frustrated with the game. I heard them effing and blinding on a fairway later on in the round and in the car park on the way out. After all the abuse they dished out to each other and all the ripping the last thing they did was arrange another match next week. The power of golf is strong!
After just over three hours I eventually trundled up to the 18th tee and was knackered to be honest. One last swing of Arthur left me perfectly positioned on the fairway, a cracking iron shot put me in chipping distance of the green, after a fluffed chip I eventually got the ball about 20 feet from the pin. With some people looking on from the putting green behind the 18th dancefloor I stroked my best putt of the day to finish on a five – a birdie in Rob’s Scoring!
I wanted to strut off the course in a “do you know who I am” kinda way but my legs had gone so I shuffled over to the benches behind the first tee and sat down for 10 minutes while I worked out my score. I did the front 9 in 55 and the back in 52 giving me 107 in total.
I started this post by stating that I had given myself two tests to pass. Last night’s driving range session was passed with flying colours and after knocking a massive 12 shots off my first score around Kirkby it is fair to say Operation: Snide Round was an overwhelming success too. Maybe I’ll give this golf lark another bash!!!
Showing posts with label golf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label golf. Show all posts
Saturday, 27 September 2008
Friday, 26 September 2008
24 - Reports Of My Golfing Demise May Have Been Greatly Exaggerated...
Your sweary golf blog entertainment might continue after all. I had threatened to jack it all in if tonight’s session at the torture chamber, I mean, driving range went badly. I’m pleased to say that tonight went well…almost as well as it ever has. I blame Richie entirely for this.
While I practiced Richie stood behind me with his judging eyes, checking, ready to point out where I was going wrong. So it was inevitable that I hit six (it is always in groups of six remember) balls fairly far and fairly straight. I was embarrassed and a little bit pissed off. I had specifically asked Richie to come down to sort all my problems yet they had mysteriously disappeared.
Saying that, Richie still spotted a couple of things that he thought needed working on. In order to control my swing he suggested that I grip the club down the shaft a little. Apparently reducing the swing will mean that I’m not as wild and should have more control over the ball which in turn should stop the hideous newbie slice. Fuck me it worked! It worked so well I got adventurous.
Anyone who has ever played golf will tell you that the driver is the hardest club to use accurately which is why, on my two trips to a golf course so far, I’ve avoided it like the plague on the whole. Tonight my mate Paul from work (not Lucky Paul, another Paul) decided he would pop down to Aintree for a bit of a whack. He brought with him a present in the form of a metal shafted, John Daly signature, Hippo driver. He said I should use it to see if it would help my slice.
With Richie’s advice ringing in my ears and Paul’s wood gripped firmly in my hands (oo-er) I let rip and…the ball flew straight and true. For a change it went a properly decent distance too. Was it a fluke I asked myself? Was it fuck came the answer as I hit more and more balls acceptably straight and satisfyingly long. I switched to my 3 wood to see if I could replicate the magic and was more than pleasantly surprised to see I could.
Next it was on to my 5 iron. I wanted to show to Richie that although I might be a ham fisted gimp when it came to driving, I was doing alright with my irons. I hit my first shot so bad that he was laughing at me when I turned around. What a mate he is!!! The problem was easy to spot and quick to fix. I was standing too close to the ball and not keeping my head down.
Adjustments made I was back on course. The yellow basket challenge was on again and I failed once more. I got the same words of encouragement from Richie that I usually get from Alan though; I was getting close enough to be on the green and in a good position to two putt. I was back to being proud of my little ‘Fivey’!
Time for the wedge and the blue basket challenge. The game is simple; there is a blue basket around 50 yards away and we each in turn try and chip into it. So far I have played this game with Alan and Lucky and lost on both occasions. This time, armed with my 56* wedge, I was determined to win. After a few shots I realised that the wedge was just too lofty, the ball was flying higher than further.
I switched to Lucky’s 9 iron and, in the immortal words of Stifler, it was “on like Donkey Kong”. I was there or thereabouts from the start so it was only a matter of time before I hit the jackpot. A few balls later I was laughing like a loon as I bingoed the target. Get the fuck in! I won, job done, game over. Richie went one better though by doing a ‘Crossbar Challenge’ (watch Soccer AM on Sky) on the basket…the bastard.
With the prize won I moved to a spare bay, relaxed and fired a few balls off. It is amazing how much easier this game is when you have no pressure on you. I hit lots of creamy shots into the crisp Aintree night with a smug smirk on my face. I finished off with two 3 wood drives that were the best of the night. It is good to be the king.
While I practiced Richie stood behind me with his judging eyes, checking, ready to point out where I was going wrong. So it was inevitable that I hit six (it is always in groups of six remember) balls fairly far and fairly straight. I was embarrassed and a little bit pissed off. I had specifically asked Richie to come down to sort all my problems yet they had mysteriously disappeared.
Saying that, Richie still spotted a couple of things that he thought needed working on. In order to control my swing he suggested that I grip the club down the shaft a little. Apparently reducing the swing will mean that I’m not as wild and should have more control over the ball which in turn should stop the hideous newbie slice. Fuck me it worked! It worked so well I got adventurous.
Anyone who has ever played golf will tell you that the driver is the hardest club to use accurately which is why, on my two trips to a golf course so far, I’ve avoided it like the plague on the whole. Tonight my mate Paul from work (not Lucky Paul, another Paul) decided he would pop down to Aintree for a bit of a whack. He brought with him a present in the form of a metal shafted, John Daly signature, Hippo driver. He said I should use it to see if it would help my slice.
With Richie’s advice ringing in my ears and Paul’s wood gripped firmly in my hands (oo-er) I let rip and…the ball flew straight and true. For a change it went a properly decent distance too. Was it a fluke I asked myself? Was it fuck came the answer as I hit more and more balls acceptably straight and satisfyingly long. I switched to my 3 wood to see if I could replicate the magic and was more than pleasantly surprised to see I could.
Next it was on to my 5 iron. I wanted to show to Richie that although I might be a ham fisted gimp when it came to driving, I was doing alright with my irons. I hit my first shot so bad that he was laughing at me when I turned around. What a mate he is!!! The problem was easy to spot and quick to fix. I was standing too close to the ball and not keeping my head down.
Adjustments made I was back on course. The yellow basket challenge was on again and I failed once more. I got the same words of encouragement from Richie that I usually get from Alan though; I was getting close enough to be on the green and in a good position to two putt. I was back to being proud of my little ‘Fivey’!
Time for the wedge and the blue basket challenge. The game is simple; there is a blue basket around 50 yards away and we each in turn try and chip into it. So far I have played this game with Alan and Lucky and lost on both occasions. This time, armed with my 56* wedge, I was determined to win. After a few shots I realised that the wedge was just too lofty, the ball was flying higher than further.
I switched to Lucky’s 9 iron and, in the immortal words of Stifler, it was “on like Donkey Kong”. I was there or thereabouts from the start so it was only a matter of time before I hit the jackpot. A few balls later I was laughing like a loon as I bingoed the target. Get the fuck in! I won, job done, game over. Richie went one better though by doing a ‘Crossbar Challenge’ (watch Soccer AM on Sky) on the basket…the bastard.
With the prize won I moved to a spare bay, relaxed and fired a few balls off. It is amazing how much easier this game is when you have no pressure on you. I hit lots of creamy shots into the crisp Aintree night with a smug smirk on my face. I finished off with two 3 wood drives that were the best of the night. It is good to be the king.
Thursday, 25 September 2008
23 - This Is A Low...
As you may have noticed after reading the last few posts on this blog, I’m not the ray of sunshine I usually am. It would be fair to say I’m about as happy as a bulimic with no fingers. The reason is simple; I’m not getting any better at golf despite putting a lot of effort in. I practice three times a week and get to a course every couple of weeks yet I’m still utter rubbish.
If I’m being honest I think I have actually regressed. When I first started I could hit the ball far but without any real accuracy, now, after all those hours of practice, all the tips and all the help, I can’t hit it as far as I could originally and I’m just as inaccurate. A lose/lose situation I’m sure you’ll all agree.
A few weeks ago, although I was what’s know in the trade as ‘shit’ I was enjoying it. Now I’m finding it more and more difficult to motivate myself to bother any more. The driving range used to be a place where I could practice and have a bit of fun, now it is starting to feel like a torture chamber where every screwed up shot hits me like a nail in the knackers administered by a particularly sinister jailer.
The last straw came the other night when even my 5 iron refused to play ball. I went through about 40 balls without hitting one straight (the vast majority not making it past the scrub in front of the bays before the grass starts if I’m being honest). Earlier my ‘fixed’ 3 wood went on the blink as the auld slice returned and then I couldn’t chip the ball into a basket just 50 yards away with a club just designed to chip the ball just 50 yards.
Even Alan’s words of encouragement couldn’t lift me and before you could say “you’ve just wasted an hour of your life and £4 because you couldn’t hit a cows arse with a banjo let alone the ball properly” I had wasted an hour of my life and £4 because I couldn’t hit a cows arse with a banjo let alone the ball properly. It was my worse performance at Aintree by some margin.
I’m meeting Richie at the range tonight and he has promised to give me some tips. I have a sneaky plan for Friday too but if these two sessions don’t go well I might have to face the fact that golf just isn’t for me and jack it in as a bad job. This is a low.
If I’m being honest I think I have actually regressed. When I first started I could hit the ball far but without any real accuracy, now, after all those hours of practice, all the tips and all the help, I can’t hit it as far as I could originally and I’m just as inaccurate. A lose/lose situation I’m sure you’ll all agree.
A few weeks ago, although I was what’s know in the trade as ‘shit’ I was enjoying it. Now I’m finding it more and more difficult to motivate myself to bother any more. The driving range used to be a place where I could practice and have a bit of fun, now it is starting to feel like a torture chamber where every screwed up shot hits me like a nail in the knackers administered by a particularly sinister jailer.
The last straw came the other night when even my 5 iron refused to play ball. I went through about 40 balls without hitting one straight (the vast majority not making it past the scrub in front of the bays before the grass starts if I’m being honest). Earlier my ‘fixed’ 3 wood went on the blink as the auld slice returned and then I couldn’t chip the ball into a basket just 50 yards away with a club just designed to chip the ball just 50 yards.
Even Alan’s words of encouragement couldn’t lift me and before you could say “you’ve just wasted an hour of your life and £4 because you couldn’t hit a cows arse with a banjo let alone the ball properly” I had wasted an hour of my life and £4 because I couldn’t hit a cows arse with a banjo let alone the ball properly. It was my worse performance at Aintree by some margin.
I’m meeting Richie at the range tonight and he has promised to give me some tips. I have a sneaky plan for Friday too but if these two sessions don’t go well I might have to face the fact that golf just isn’t for me and jack it in as a bad job. This is a low.
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
22 - Close Your Legs You Big Hussy...
After the good session at the range the other night I was eager to get back down there. I had started hitting my 3 wood properly by simply moving my left foot back half an inch (I know it shouldn’t work but it just does) and wanted to see if I could replicate the magic with my Big Bertha. I couldn’t. This game is shit.
I cannot understand how something that works on one club can fail so spectacularly on another. I was properly trying too. I was giving it so much thought and putting so much effort in that when it didn’t work I wanted to smash my driver to bits. I was on the verge of giving up in a girly huff, especially as the 13-year-old kid in the next bay was pinging the ball high, straight and handsome – the little shit – instead I moved on to my 5 iron, he wouldn’t let me down.
Sure enough auld ‘Fivey’ was as reliable as a Volkswagen. Time after time I got a good connection and more often than not the ball went where I wanted it to go. Again me and Alan had a showdown trying to get into the yellow basket thing 150 yards away. Again Alan won but only on a technicality as he had a Sally Gunnell that bounced into the net…the cheat!!!
Right, on to the cheap wedge that I’m trialling to see if I can justify buying a Vokey. Instead of doing any real practicing I was experimenting with the little fella, seeing how the ball flew differently when I hit it in different ways. Not too productive but I did get another little tip which worked a treat when Alan explained that unlike a prostitute I should have my legs closed to make it easier to get to the hole.
Closing your stance, keeping your arms straight and gently pushing through the ball will make it fly straight and true…if you hit it correctly that is. Currently I have an annoying tendency to top the ball making it fly low and far – pretty much the exact opposite to what I want it to do.
According to Richie I should give the driving range a miss, get on a field and hit the balls until I’m making contact with them consistently. After that I can start hitting the ball harder to work out what I can do with the club. I desperately want the wedge to work out as I know, from my two rounds, how important it is to get close to the pin when on the course…oh and then I can justify buying that lovely, lovely Vokey!
I cannot understand how something that works on one club can fail so spectacularly on another. I was properly trying too. I was giving it so much thought and putting so much effort in that when it didn’t work I wanted to smash my driver to bits. I was on the verge of giving up in a girly huff, especially as the 13-year-old kid in the next bay was pinging the ball high, straight and handsome – the little shit – instead I moved on to my 5 iron, he wouldn’t let me down.
Sure enough auld ‘Fivey’ was as reliable as a Volkswagen. Time after time I got a good connection and more often than not the ball went where I wanted it to go. Again me and Alan had a showdown trying to get into the yellow basket thing 150 yards away. Again Alan won but only on a technicality as he had a Sally Gunnell that bounced into the net…the cheat!!!
Right, on to the cheap wedge that I’m trialling to see if I can justify buying a Vokey. Instead of doing any real practicing I was experimenting with the little fella, seeing how the ball flew differently when I hit it in different ways. Not too productive but I did get another little tip which worked a treat when Alan explained that unlike a prostitute I should have my legs closed to make it easier to get to the hole.
Closing your stance, keeping your arms straight and gently pushing through the ball will make it fly straight and true…if you hit it correctly that is. Currently I have an annoying tendency to top the ball making it fly low and far – pretty much the exact opposite to what I want it to do.
According to Richie I should give the driving range a miss, get on a field and hit the balls until I’m making contact with them consistently. After that I can start hitting the ball harder to work out what I can do with the club. I desperately want the wedge to work out as I know, from my two rounds, how important it is to get close to the pin when on the course…oh and then I can justify buying that lovely, lovely Vokey!
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