Driving, Driving, Driving – Shots Developing BHP at last….
So there we were – 6 of us at 9.30a.m. The #1 3-ball went off ahead of us, accelerating into the distance at breakneck speed. I’ve never seen people outrun their own drives before – tres impressive. We 3 plodded along behind – we did good, we did bad, we did downright ugly and the front 9 passed in a flurry of shots and much cleaning of sandy balls. Whew.
Along came the 10th (with compulsory choccie break for Lady M and I, L-Plater H is a largely chocolate free zone) and I put into practice the advice of The Buddy which had worked real well for me on St. Paddy’s Day. I aimed my drive way to the left and it were a goodie – my head stayed down, arm stayed straight, ball got hit fair ‘n’ square and lofted itself skywards straight towards the 10th yellow flag in the far, far distance. Then came the Big Gust of Big Wind and my ball shot away to the right and nestled itself in the shelter of the coppice on right. Aaargh. I tried to chip gently back onto the fairway in one, no fancy stuff. But, the trees were edging into and across my shots. Some even jumped straight up in front of me – 120years of growth in 0.5 of a second. My 5th shot cannoned into the big ol’ tree with the triangular root cave and ricocheted in a pin-ballesque manner from side to side until it settled comfortably in its little cave. ???? The big 10 was scratchilicious for me today.
And in just a few minutes hard yet silent grumping time, here we were at the 13th. Or my 13th as I now call it. I had a lovely drive. I had a lovely 5 iron. I had a lovely 7 iron. I had a lovely pitchy-chippie shot onto the green. I putt-putted down in 2. I had a 6 on a Par 5, or a nett birdie as I now affectionately call it. My squidgy little 13ipoo fluffiumpikins (for today).
I floated around and there we were at the 16th already. I applied the “2 club wind rule” that the Mc Man had referenced on St. Paddy’s Day. It worked not for me. The hungry Barrow and the malevolent wind conspired agin’ me. The wind dropped, the river sucked, my ball splashed. Oh, scratchy, scratchy, scratchy.
As for the 17th – a Par 3 should never create this much scratching to be sure.
But there we were – on the 18th tee box – clubhouse in view – 19th calling us with promises of sustenance and shelter (tea and scones). We drove divinely, we fairwayed fantastically, my 3rd went waaaaaaay across the green, my 4th used the bunker as a ramp and hopped happily onto the green. Down in 2 for a nett par. As happy as my “just broke the 20pts” thing was, I should not neglect my two golfing companions of the day. I am deeply suspicious that L-Plater H has been practising her putting. She was hammering putts home like Tom Cruise’s pool shots in “Colour of Money” and went, over the 18 holes, from looking surprised, to disapproving, to pleased, to guilty. And the Lady M spent the entire 18 holes chipping so devastatingly well that I was smelling salt ‘n’ vinegar by the end. What a day was had…
Safe, fast, powerful driving en vogue when
Golfing @ Garryhinch…