Saturday 19 February 2011

Wounded Pride

Played this morning despite the incessant drizzle on top of heavy overnight rain. The course was pretty wet in places, particularly the back nine but it was mainly standing casual water on the fairways and the odd tee but the greens had done a great job of draining and each and every one of them was perfectly playable with no puddles.

I can't remember the last time I played a round starting and finishing in waterproofs and it is something usually reserved purely for competitive play but with the Four Ball Better Ball tomorrow I though I owed it to my partner Martin Davis (Bash) to get out and see what shape my game was in. The other hardy souls in our fourball were Colin Osborn and Mike Stannard. Bash and I decided to take the others on.

As for the golf, lets just say Bash is probably scouring the Royal Ascot rulebook as I type to see if a late substitution is allowed. I was crap. Actually I was worse than that. I couldn't get ANYTHING going and the tempo was so fast, the swing so loose and the results were inevitable. I knew it would be a struggle from the moment the opening tee shot went straight right out of bounds. I chopped my way down the second, lost a ball with my drive at the 3rd and only a good chip (no really) at the 4th brought any respectability to proceedings.

The 5th was a snap hook left and when I hit a good shot as I did on the 6th I three putted. The 7th was another story of slices, fats, thinned chips and missed putts. By the time we got to the 9th green (it took me a fair amount of time and shots to get there) it was hammering down and Bash and Colin called it a day. Mike and I decided to venture on. In my case it was in the hope of finding some crumb of comfort. A slappy hooky tee shot on the 10th said it probably wasn't going to be my wisest decision but an exquisite 5 wood from the rough onto the green finally put a flicker of a smile on my lips. Things improved in terms of ball striking until the 14th where I carved my approach way right into the environmental area.

I hit my drive of the day down the 15th and made a par. I pushed the drive at 16 and couldn't go for the green but laid up and hit a good 9 iron in and nearly salvaged a cheeky par. I hit a good 5 wood (probably a club short) down the 17th and had I taken a braver line instead of aiming at the right hand bunker to take the out of bounds left out of the equation it might have been close to the front edge rather than in the rough right with a bunker to carry. I produce shot of the day from nowhere. It was a beautiful high pitch just carrying the bunker, landing softly and rolling down to less than a foot for par. I even manged to find a fairway and green in regulation at the last for a par.

So what did I get out of the effort. My shoes and waterproofs are definitely up to the job and I was bone dry. My tempo still needs work and there are definite ball striking issues. My Ping putter from Monday is still in the bag and performed reasonably although putting like every other facet was in and out (mostly out). Don't hit it into bunkers in these conditions because I'm not good enough to get them out properly.

I even managed to drag poor Mike down to my level. He had a very steady front nine given the conditions and started the back nine well. However by the 14th he was having a few problems and made a few bad swings. I'm not sure how much he was concentrating but the banter was good (he's a fellow Fulham fan and Golf Monthly Forum member) and so it was more about being out and playing than constructing a score. At least I can take heart that some of the more seasoned Ascot members called it quits after just four holes and we managed to tough it out all the way. In fairness the way I played I felt like jacking it in after 4 too!

Don't worry Bash, I've used (I hope) all my bad shots up today. At least you know you are strong enough to carry me and I promise to make at least one valuable contribution along the way. All that is left is to try and get my stuff dried and put away as the wife is starting to make serious tut-tutting noises about my gear spread all over the house. Ooops

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