Having suffered a car crash 80 – 80!!! – on the Thornbury Par 3 course today, it was time for desperate measures. My round was a complete shambles, a grotesque mixture of shanks, hooks and lost balls. Put quite simply, I could not hit a single ball where I wanted it to go.
I am told this is not an unusual state of affairs for golfers and in my near three years of playing the game, these episodes have come along from time to time to render me humiliated on the course. There was simply nothing good about my round. A few groups of people let me through and I produced even worse shots, losing two balls off the tea on the 14th hole, finally reaching the green in six shots – all of 100 yards or so. I might as well have putted all the way to the green.
I could not put my finger on it. Just last week, I shot a 57 on this course, just three over par and today I contrived to compile a round that was a ludicrous 26 over par. Whatever I tried, I just made things even worse. For the life of me, I could not work out what was happening. Only one thing for it: get onto the driving range. I paid my cash and got 100 balls with which I would practice my game and get myself back on track. I moved to a place on the driving range as far from everyone else as I could find and starting hitting the ball. And this was when things became silly. Not only was I hitting the ball relatively straight, which I had not managed with one drive on the course itself, I was hitting it twice as far too. I even used two clubs that rarely emerge from my bag and be damned if the ball wasn’t disappearing into infinity. Well, 200 yards or more.
From playing an horrendous round of awful golf, knowing that the next shot would be as bad as the that preceded it, I had stepped onto the range and I was playing like a candidate for the next Ryder Cup. Not really, but you get the idea.
What is it about this bloody game? I almost decided there and then to play another round with my ‘A’ game now restored but I decided against it. I know that if I had played again what would have happened: I’d have started mishitting the ball again and probably stormed off the course. Have I got a nervous tic that only kicks in when I am actually playing the game but disappears when I am practising? I might be onto something there. I made football look easy on the training ground, but almost impossible when I had to play it.
I am determined now to take a few days off before I play again. By a few days, I probably mean tomorrow and I’ll be cussing blind tomorrow afternoon. Golf is a wonderful game but it does have the ability to drive you crackers.
