One of the guys that works here at the Consulate has been after me to play golf with him since I got here. And while I've definitely played more golf in the last 9 months than I did in the previous 5 years, we just hadn't gotten the chance. However, this past weekend my Lovely English Lass allowed me to go out for a round. I was very happy, and immediately booked a tee time for me and my friend at the Els Club at Copper Leaf.
Now I'd played there before, but the rain was awful and didn't really play as much as survive. So I was looking forward to giving it the old college try again. Now, to be fair, I am a horrible golfer. My tee shots always fade to the right (I turn my hips on my back swing) and I can't seem to keep my head down on my follow through, which tops the ball. But, I enjoy playing, and on occasion I hit a shot that makes it all worthwhile. (In fact, it's coming up on the one year anniversary of my making a 63 foot putt while playing in Virginia with family friend B.)
My friend and I arrived in enough time to get ready, but not enough to hit practice balls. This was a mistake, in hindsight. I wasn't warmed up, and as it turned out we were going to have a long afternoon. We arrived in our cart at the first tee, and met with the other twosome we'd be playing with. As we arrived, the starter took our receipt, and then said, "The rules for this tournament are best two scores on holes, and we'll be playing with handicaps." Confused, my friend and I looked at each other. It was then we realized that the two tee slots I had signed up for were for a tournament, and the people we were playing with (a man and his wife) were regulars on this course and were expecting to win. Yeah..... so not going to happen while I'm playing with them.
It all started off amiably, until I shanked my drive into the rough. It was then I heard them speaking in Afrikaans to each other. Now, Afrikaans is very much like Dutch, and I can pick out quite a lot of Afrikaans (to the utter despair of my local staff members). So what I heard them saying to each other was how crappy their lot in life was that they would draw to obvious amateurs, and one of them obviously out of shape. (Paraphrased). I did nothing over the next 4 hours to dispel them of the notion that they were correct that I was an amateur. Some of my drives took lovely detours into very high grass, never to be seen again, and some of them only went a few yards and stopped. Much sighing and head shakes followed. About the 6th hole, the lady started to actually mock me, telling me that she'd driven it further than I had, and oh I'd just barely cleared the ladies' tees. (Granted, the ladies tees on this course are sometimes at least 100 meters closer to the hole than where I was playing off of, but this started to rankle me.) I didn't re-hit a tee shot, and instead dropped where I'd lost the ball, so she gave me a not-played. If I stopped a putt short, she'd say, "Oh, you need to hit it like a man next time." It started to get annoying.
My friend, meanwhile, wasn't doing too badly for playing the course the first time. He did visit many of the fine bunkers the course has, which made him ask if per chance Ernie Els grew up in the desert. In the end he shot an 87, which was only 11 shots off the guy that plays there twice a week. His wife shot a 96. I shot somewhere close to infinity. But there were times I made myself smile with good shots, or even a putt or two that would have made old Ernie Els himself grin. Considering how much I don't play, it's amazing I finished less than 200. However, we had a good time, and after putting out on the 18th, we all took off our hats and shook hands. But not before the lady had one more parting shot. "You know, you just need to practice more often and play more often to get better. Obviously you don't, but you should to improve." Thanks lady, I'd like to but I have a wife, two kids, which are more important to me than golf, and a job, so I don't get to come out and play golf whenever I feel like it.
When we went into the pro shop afterwards, I walked in and found our partner complaining to the cashier about the stiffs they had stuck her and her husband with for the tournament. She didn't see me, and walked out without noticing me. I told the cashier I was the one she was complaining about, and he nodded and smiled. Then he said, "She's a pain in the ass anyway sir." Definitely made my day.
It was nice getting out of the house to play golf in the sun. When I got home I told Crazy Little Man we'd take his club out the next day and hit some tennis balls, which we did. He liked it, and I'm working on his swing. I want him to have the love of the game I do. And maybe one day he'll be a scratch golfer, and be able to hit that bunker shot to within a club length of the hole. Or maybe he'll be as bad as his father, at which case we'll join tournaments and ruin them for the pretentious people playing with us. Either way, we'll have a good time on the course.
PS Today is my 50th post. Yeah me!
No comments:
Post a Comment