I had a day off on Wednesday and after the sterling practice session I had put in the previous Sunday I went to the range in buoyant mood ready to put the finishing touches to the swing change I'd been working on. It never ceases to amaze me how fickle golf can be. I think I must enter some subterranean time manipulation vortex that makes the mind and body forget what has gone before.
Sure enough, there I was, same bay as Sunday, same clubs and still feeling great. The warm up went well and the first few half shots were fine and crisp. I moved up to a pitching wedge. It was adequate. Workmanlike if you will but lacked the fizz off the clubface I'd enjoyed. And so it continued as I progressed through the bag. I couldn't find anything that was reminiscent of what I'd achieved not three full days before. The initial move back felt wrong. The turn to the top of the swing was similar to juggling snakes and coming down and through had more lateral slide and movement than a 1980's body popping reunion contest.
Now don't get me wrong, a lot of these shots were passable attempts at golf strokes and the end results were fine, in a relative way. However the difference between the two sessions was chalk and cheese. Suffice to say the buoyant mood was quickly burst and a grey cloud of frustration took its place.
I was due to hit the range tonight. However as it was chucking it down and blowing a hoolie that idea was canned for a night in front of the telly. I'm looking forward to the next comp though. I was down to play in the stableford tomorrow but as has been the case so often recently family matters have had to come first. When I do get out again competitively, if I can bring my Sunday swing to the party then I could have a very, very good day and a long awaited handicap cut beckons. If I turn up with old faults from Wednesday then a 0.1 increase will be virtually guaranteed by half-time. I can't wait to see which Homer turns up. The practice ground beforehand won't be much of a guide. I've had lousy warm ups and storming rounds and other times pured the ball in rehearsal to go and fluff my lines at showtime.