One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play, the game is over
The game is over"
Thanks to Marillion for putting into words everything that pretty well summed up the way I felt yesterday afternoon having completed my second round of the Stone Cup. If you'd read my previous blog, you'll know the story to date and that I had left myself much to do.
I'm losing on the swings is so apt. I actually struck the ball even better than I did on Saturday and had managed to avoid any form of cataclysmic meltdown on the final stretch. I'm losing on the roundabouts. Despite playing better in terms of getting the ball around, the conditions were much tougher than the previous day with strong and gusty winds making it very hard to select the right club and to score well. I'd decided to play as the forecast for the Bank Holiday was typical for an English long weekend with persistent light rain and a moderate breeze from mid morning on the cards. I figured best to get my second round done in the dry rather than the wet.
I knew I had to go low to mount any challenge to a top ten position. In fact I positively screamed from the blocks and drove the first green for the second day running for a par, made a par on the second and got a safe bogey (nett par) on the 3rd. Having hit a 3 wood onto the fairway at the 4th to leave 92 yards I seemed well set for another par. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I managed to pull the shot left. It missed the putting surface, careered off the steep bank and out of bounds. As I don't get a shot (stroke index 16) I didn't score. Still no harm done and I had points already in the bank from the first few holes so no need to hit the panic button.
The ball striking on the back nine was for the most part much, much better but yet again I somehow managed to find a poor lie, just run out of position or not quite execute fully. As per the front nine there was one real destructive shot. It came at the 178 yard par 3 13th where I hooked my hybrid left, with a bit of left on and then some left hand spin for good measure. If you saw how thick the vegetation is down the side of the hole you'd know it was a lost cause even contemplating looking for it. Hey ho.
As the lyrics say, "Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play, the game is over." I knew I wasn't going to shoot anything near good enough to challenge. The wind was freshening all the time and in the end had a real effect on the flight of the ball and really negated the improved ball striking. In the end it was another rather limp 31 points for a grand total of 62. Definitely not what I had planned and in my own mind, probably not a fair reflection. Three or four badly executed shots and maybe the same number of unforced errors over two days but other than that I was more than happy with the way I hit it.
I have to be honest blog followers, it is really getting me down now. How long must I suffer a lack of return on my investment in terms of lessons, practice and good ball striking without seeing any end result. I'm seriously thinking about calling it quits. Suddenly the quest for Homer's Odyssey of single figures seems such a long way away. I'm closer to going up to 14 (unheard of for me) than I am of coming down to anything approaching my goal.
The good ship Homer seems to be becalmed and in need of a helping breeze. I've put my thought out to the great and the good on the Golf Monthly Forum (http://forums.golf-monthly.co.uk/) and the general opinion is I'm trying too hard and thinking too much. I tend to disagree. Yes I'm pretty intense about my golf but I'm not standing over every shot with a thousand swing thoughts going through my head. I am actually an oasis of tranquility over the ball but somehow between taking the club back and making contact there is the odd breakdown in communication between brain and muscles and I hit a card wrecker of a shot. It is how I get rid of these from my game that is the key to me coming down.
Some have said have a break. No chance. The good lady will find plenty of chores for me if I stay at home. Some say don't play competitions for a while. Again not really a starter if I want to get back the shots I've added to my handicap to date. Others say don't take it too seriously. Well if you ask those I played with over the two days, I was as relaxed as I could be, even in the depths of my first round meltdown. I tried to keep positive and cracked a few jokes to stop the voices in my head yelling at me (am I the only one who has these voices when they play?).
I don't know the answer. All I do know is I'll be back next week for the roll up on Saturday and the Centenary medal on Sunday. You can't keep a good man down.
"Now sad in reflection did I gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of the morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of mourning
Promised triumphs now a wake
The fool escaped from paradise will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer why?
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the jester that showed you tears, the script for tears"
Well I'm done with crying (metaphorically). Time to wipe away the tears, dust myself down and move on. We're coming to the meat of the season now. It is in there. I promise you. In fact it is ready to burst forth and when it does it may, just may be the start of something big.
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