More Depressed Than a French Footballer

I'm glad the Royal Ascot Race Meet has been and gone for another year and that peace and normality can return to the club. I've not practiced much this week (coaches parking on the practice ground, reduced layout and hours spent in traffic getting in and out of the club) but went to the range on Saturday in preparation for the 1st round of the Volvo Matchplay (four ball better ball) alongside fellow Ascoteer Hywel Lloyd. It wasn't great but acceptable especially in a matchplay arena where my score wasn't overly important. So far so good.

We were playing at Maidenhead Golf Club, on a course hosting it's club championship final round so I knew before the off that the course would be playing tough. Using my "Homer Logic" and knowing that all Maidenhead has in terms of warm up facilities are a couple of nets, I thought I'd pop into the driving range located on the outskirts of the town where I usually go and work on my game. Oh my god!

If there's ever another of these "ask the experts" sections in a golf magazine or online, I'm going to write in with a doozy of a question. What do you do an hour before your tee off time when every, and I mean EVERY shot is a shank? I thought it only fair to warn my partner when I got there but he seemed unflustered and I think thought I was over-playing it. We met the opposition, a 14 and 16 handicapper and set out.

The first is a straight away par 4 of 358 yards and I've creamed a 3 wood off the tee. Maybe it was just a glitch. I'm standing over the second shot with only 118 yards to the flag and 9 iron in hand. I'm then chipping out from the trees to the right of the green as I pipe one straight right. We won the hole and I hit another great 3 wood at the next and was left another 9 iron in. I'm sure the golfing gods were teasing me. Anyway, it found the green and I holed a great six footer for the win. I made a great up and down at the 5th from a greenside bunker for a half and an even better from way left of the par 3 6th from under the trees and with a steep bank between me and the hole. We were 3 up and cruising.

By the time we came off the ninth I was a gibbering wreck and we were back to only 2 up. I was topping, slicing and shanking all over the shop. It was the original horror show and made Dustin Johnson's meltdown in the last round of the US Open seem good in comparison. It really got to the point by the time we'd reach the 14th where I stood over it like a rabbit in headlights and had no idea where it was going and to a degree whether I'd hit it at all. It's the worse feeling I've ever had and I felt so embarrassed. It didn't help that Hywel was single handedly trying to keep the opposition at bay. They made a birdie two at the 182 yard 16th (no shame in losing to a two) and then I nearly came to the party. I found the fairway on 17 (483 yard par 5). Just play it short, pitch on and make 5. I could almost have kicked it on for 3 but instead decided to try and shank a hybrid as well. One down.

I got onto the edge of the last in three but the writing was on the wall when one of the home team made a 5. I needed to hole from 20 feet and although the pace was good it broke left and we were out. I was a mess. I was embarrassed for Hywel having to partner me, the opposition for having to put up with searching on every hole for my wayward shots, and embarrassed for myself to have played that badly. I won't be playing the stableford on Saturday as I can't suffer another round of pain like that.

I went to the range tonight. It's fairly obvious that my weight is moving forward during the swing so there is no way on earth that the club can return to its original position at impact and that the hosel will always meet the ball. All I have to do now is find the fix. I've been trying to get a quick lesson from my normal teaching pro Grant Sayer (ironically based at Maidenhead Golf Club) or Paul Harrison from N1Golf who I used a few times while Grant was out of action. Both are fully booked and I'm hoping my lovely wife can call in some favours with the pros at Sand Martins where she works and get something for Wednesday. I've a half day so in theory can get out of work, train and cab to the club and have a lesson by 1.45 at the latest. An hour working on the cure (I hope) and back in the bar by 2.50 and just in time for the England game.

It's an old story, blog readers. Your hero seems to be making good progress (5th in the last medal with four double bogeys) and was playing well since. Then the fiendish Dr Hack infiltrates my game and lays a booby trap to railroad any attempt to push on towards single figures. Fear not though as Homer is made of strong stuff and I will be back soon.

Meanwhile I'm off to polish the ball marks off the hosel of my clubs.

Total number of lost balls in 2010 = 39