Thought for the Day
Tact is the ability to describe others as they see themselves
Stay away from me
Golf is a fun, sociable activity, and much of its pleasure derives from the people with whom you share the fairways, but there are a few, and thankfully only a few, golfers who you would prefer to leave in the clubhouse rather than share space with on the course.
The Snail
In more than 40 years I have played with a few laggards but I have yet to meet a golfer who thinks they’re a slowcoach. There are few things to match our capacity for self-delusion. For some it’s a matter of fitness or physique, and if a playing partner perambulates at a leisurely speed because of a health issue, that’s absolutely fine. But, and I pick my words with care, others are just so fat that they couldn’t beat a toddler in a race to the bus stop and watching them waddle along can be frustrating, at best. If you want to pile on the pounds and be a lardass at home, good on you but don’t make me endure a four-hour round because of it.
The Unprepared
Being slow is as much about attitude as it is about speed of movement. By all means stroll between shots but when you get to your ball don’t act surprised to discover that you now have to play. As you’re walking, particularly as you near the green, size up the general topography and situation; does a pin cut tight to the right of the green, near a bunker, mean you want to aim for the fat of the putting surface, rather than take on the flagstick, for example. Don’t wait for three playing partners to hit their shots before making up your mind about your own. If your ball’s on the green, fish the ball marker out of your pocket while you’re walking. And when you leave the green, find the tee you want to use at the next teeing ground before you get there. It can be summed up in two words – be ready.
The Storyteller
We’ve all been there. Someone who likes to chatter and tell jokes or stories arrives at the tee and it’s their turn to play, but they’re halfway through a yarn and continue regaling you. In these instances it is perfectly acceptable (it may even be in the rule book) to say: ‘Hit your bloody shot and then finish the story.’
The Handicap Snob
The wort example of this I ever saw was when my wife and I were on holiday in Bermuda and played a world-class course called Mid Ocean. The starter paired us with an American dentist (therefore dislikeable on two counts) and his lovely wife. Dentist played off about two and, having watched my first drive, decided (quite reasonably), that I was nowhere near his standard of golf. He also decided (quite unreasonably) to ignore me for the rest of the round. I don’t exaggerate; he didn’t say a word, even on the rare occasions when I hit a good shot. Our wives, a Rastafarian caddy and myself had a very enjoyable day but when the dentist offered to shake my hand on the 18th I said: ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ In fact, my language may have been a bit stronger. What he failed to appreciate is that, when it comes to playing partners, scoring ability means nothing, affability and personality are everything. Some of my most enjoyable rounds have been with people who couldn’t hit the sea from the deck of an aircraft carrier – but they were good company.
The Yardage Fiend
On a press trip once in Portugal, one of the journalists faced a chip shot of about five yards onto the green. He paced it out. At the end of a week of competition I staged an impromptu prize-giving and presented him with a beaker full of ice cubes because: ‘Glaciers can form in the time it takes you to hit a shot.’ You can see the same sort of obsession with yardages throughout the game and it’s become worse since GPS and other measuring devices have gained in popularity. For an exact knowledge of how many yards you need to hit the ball to be relevant, you need to know exactly how far you can, or do, hit any club in your bag. Handicap golfers do not have this information to hand – if we did, we’d be on tour with the other superstars. By all means use a GPS to give you an approximation of what club to hit, and then hope to hell you make a good enough swing to get it that far.
The Clubhouse Bore
There are the rules of golf, by which we must all abide, and the laws of golf, which can be ignored. One of the most prominent of these is the belief that every shot you hit is of the same great significance to everyone else as it is to you – it isn’t. Despite this, you see groups of golfers forced to listen to one man’s (and it usually is a man) account of every stroke he played – despite the fact that the guys he’s regaling were all there, and saw every single one. It is acceptable to talk about odd or unusual incidents, or make a general observation, such as: ‘If I could putt I might be a golfer.’ Otherwise, shut the hell up because nobody but you cares. In the early days of the PGA Tour one pro was so notorious for delivering a blow-by-blow summary of his round that once, when he walked into the clubhouse to join some other pros, one of them said: ‘I hope to hell you shot 63 because then it would take you only half-an-hour to tell us about it.’
The Encourager
This might seem an unlikely (and mean-spirited) inclusion because these are the playing partners who want to see you do well, and enthusiastically applaud every ‘good’ shot. Unfortunately, their enthusiasm often overrides their judgement. As the ball leaves the face of your driver they will say: ‘Great drive’ before sidespin exerts its influence and your ball turns ever further right until it disappears over the out-of-bounds fence. It’s not a bad idea to save your congratulations until the ball has come to rest. Or you might semi-top a shot that travels a reasonable distance and be congratulated. To be lauded for an effort that you know was crap is discombobulating. By all means praise me when I make a decent stroke and the ball goes somewhere approximating where I intended. Otherwise, button it.
Mouthy Journalists who write articles like this
They’re the absolute worst and should be avoided like the plague.
Quote of the Week
My game is so bad I gotta hire three caddies – one to walk the left rough, one for the right, and one for the middle. And the one in the middle doesn’t have much to do.
Dave Hill