Thought for the Day
Never get into an argument in a tent – it’s difficult to storm out and slam the flap
Tiger’s Troubles
Before getting into the meat of this week’s discussion I feel obliged to mention Tiger, en passant, if only to explain why his apparent marital difficulties will not be getting a lengthy airing here. Newspapers, magazines, websites and even TV broadcasters are having a field day, speculating, discussing and commenting on his recent dramas – and also, incidentally, having a rare old time making really poor jokes about the world’s number one preferring to hit an iron rather than a wood, after colliding with a fire hydrant and then a tree.
Tiger himself, or his management company, issued a statement saying that the incident is a private matter – and they’re quite right, it is.
Bah! Humbug!
I don’t want this to come as a shock, but Christmas is almost upon us (you may not have noticed any references to it yet on television and the like), and as you may have already discovered, GoKart has devised its own advent calendar, the culmination of which takes the form of a devilishly addictive puzzle.. The winner will receive a GoKart of their choice, which is inducement enough for you to give it a go. The nice people at GoKart asked me to be a guinea pig by seeing how far I could get and I have to report that I was hopeless – but don’t let that put you off.
Perversely, the experiment put me in mind of all the naff and useless gifts that we golfers invariably receive on December 25th. My own mother, God bless her, was obviously delighted and relieved when I first started as a golf writer, 20 years ago, because golfers are, in the mind of non-participants, easy to buy for. In consequence my sainted Mama bought me golf balls every year. I never had the heart to tell her that because of my job I was given balls by manufacturers in order to write about them. I also get to play in quite a few media golf events, and we’re always presented with a new sleeve of balls on the first tee so as a result, I have not had to buy one for nearly two decades. It didn’t help, of course, that the model she chose to give me was always Penfold or Dunlop – fine products, I’m sure, but not necessarily among my weapons of choice.
Occasionally she would look to add a slightly more exotic gift, such as those horrible things you hang from your bag, or belt, containing tees, a pitch mark repairer and ball marker. These have always struck me as the epitome of uselessness – why bother with constantly having to return to your bag, for example, when you have trouser pockets? Now and then, I am sure, your nearest and dearest know you well enough, or undertake a little research, to make sure they get you something you will actually use and appreciate (such as a GoKart) but more often than not we get saddled with tees in the shape of a castle or crown, a ‘humorous’ bag towel or set of head covers, or a hastily produced book, purporting to be the definitive product that will see you playing off scratch in 30 days.
Sorry, but there is only response, as you know, which is the fixed rictus-grin of appreciation we have to plaster to our faces, while murmuring apparently heartfelt thanks.
Finders keepers
Talking of golf balls, I have never quite understood the deliciously enjoyable thrill that finding them induces. As I mentioned, I haven’t had to buy one for a long time, and therefore have no need to search for them in the more obscure parts of golf courses around the world but search I do. My home club had two courses and in winter makes an amalgam of both, with the result that many holes are closed for at least four months every year, and one of my greatest pleasures is walking the dogs on those holes in order to search for errant Titleist, Callaway, Srixon and the like.
And, sad though it is, I have to report that life has few pleasures to offer as satisfying as returning home on a cold, frosty day, pockets bulging. You even have the double-whammy of delight in effectively finding them twice – once when you pick them out of the rough, and again when you wash off the dirt to reveal whether your prize is a scuffed and knackered Bay Hill by Arnold Palmer, or a pristine Pro-V.
Yes, I know it’s sad but I am a golfer, and therefore a slightly obsessive, probably nerdy freak who should get out more, so the adjective clings to me whether I like it or not.
Quote of the week
(On being paired with Lanny Wadkins) Cripes! They’re going to have to hire a third person just to smile for us.
Curtis Strange
Good morning
Playnig in a Texas Scramble a couple of days before Christmas, three of us after the 16th had all taken our alloted drives by then. Our team captain decided we three should take the short route to the 17th, through the woods, over the dry river bed and onto the 17th fairway ready to pick up the second shorts.
Sadly for me and my GoKart the dam had been opened and the river bed was full up with very dirty water. He lifted my Go Kart over the worst of the water but put it down in a mass of silty soily gravel. Thanks Bob.
From then on it ground to a halt with the front wheel not turning at all. Panic as I live abroad!!
Eventually the round finished, drinks were had and prizes awarded – and I loaded my poor trolley into the car and took it home. Fortunately, in a superb piece of engineering by the Go-Kart genuises I found that by twiddling those black knobs by the front wheel the whole thing came apart. There was enough mud and muck to start an allotment caught in the wheel housing but 2 seconds with the hose and all was clean.
So off to the 9 Wine and Dine this afternoon with a clean and usuable trolley again.
Thanks to the people at Go Kart for anticipating all the nasty things that can befall a trolley and putting in the solutions.
Alison
PS Did I forget to say that we are still playing in teeshirts and shorts? Alison