Having enjoyed the unprecedented frequency of seven rounds of golf over two weeks at the end of August, causing me to question the validity of calling myself a Part-Time Golfer, I am pleased to report a return to normality and the moniker can stay. The clubs have lain untouched in the shed for the best part of a month and will be dug out again this weekend.
Since dragging my knackered (and slightly hungover) body round Irvine Golf Club the morning after the Tweet Golf Cup, I am ashamed to say that I haven't touched my clubs. Not even to empty the bag of any accumulated detritus, let alone to contemplate cleaning them, so it'll be nice to give them an airing on Sunday when 3/4 of Team Never Up Never In take to the fairways at Chesfield Downs GC.
It sounds strange, but it will feel strangely comforting to stand on the first tee with zero practice, limited warming up and only a handful of chips & putts to my name prior to the round. My expectation levels will be satisfyingly reset at rock bottom and, I hope, I can relax, swing freely and, most importantly, enjoy the few hours on the course.
Can you have too much of a good thing? I am wondering if that is the case with golf. When I first realised that I would be playing three rounds during a family holiday in Devon, followed by four rounds the next week around the Tweet Golf Cup, I thought I would be in heaven. What could be more enjoyable than getting out to play that frequently, on five courses I've never played before (which I really like doing)?
Looking back on the Devon week, it wasn't as incredible as I imagined it would be, a significant part of which can be attributed to the abysmal weather bestowed upon the South-West. I can also apportion some of the blame to the state of my own golf game which, if truth be told, was ropey at best. I really liked playing at Royal North Devon (the oldest golf course in England) and we certainly had some half-decent weather that day, although the hurricane-force winds did make the inward half unplayable in places. I also liked the layout of both Willingcott Valley and Ilfracombe but the biblical downpours made those days less than perfect. The rain was so bad at Ilfracombe we had to come off the course after nine holes (when we were at the furthest point away from the clubhouse, naturally).
As for the Tweet Golf Cup trip, it was a different story in terms of enjoyment and, thankfully, the weather although I'm sorry to report that my golf was still very much a mixed bag. We played Chesfield Downs on the Wednesday, Royal Birkdale on the Thursday, Dundonald Links on Friday and, thanks to finishing fifth in the Tweet Golf Cup, we were able to use our prize and play at Irvine Golf Club on the Saturday. My golf did show a modicum of improvement as the trip went on, having comfortably punched through the bottom of the barrel at Royal Birkdale.
I didn't have a great round at Chesfield Downs - I had started to produce military golf, especially off the tee and was rapidly losing confidence in my driver - but I thought I would be able to hit/play my way out of it. I thought it couldn't get any worse. Ha.
Arriving at Royal Birkdale (my favourite course in the country) I was looking forward to showing the links virgins in my team how to navigate around this stunning track. To say I was disappointed with the round I produced would be an understatement. It was comfortably the worst round of golf I have ever played - I had absolutely no idea where the ball was going to go, particularly off the tee. To have this happen with driver/3 wood is understandable - everyone goes through that from time to time, so you switch to an iron to keep the ball in play and plot your way around. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep the ball in play with irons either, which isn't ideal. Although the rough was brutal and generally resulted in a lost ball, it was eminently avoidable so to fail to break three figures was a shock to say the least.
This disastrous game caused me to question my entire participation in golf. Shots I could previously rely on to get me out of trouble had deserted me when I needed them most. Being able to produce 180-190yds dead straight with a six-iron was the go-to option if things weren't going to plan with the woods. When I found that I could just as easily hoick it right as spray it left, I became seriously concerned about the state of my game. How could I justify walking to the first tee at the Tweet Golf Cup in a shirt displaying my single-figure handicap on the back for everyone to see, when I couldn't keep the ball in the same postcode?
Thankfully, a short session the next morning on the range at Dundonald helped me to find some perspective and, whilst I wouldn't call it a solution, I did discover a fix which restored some confidence in my long irons. This allowed me to play a little more freely and, partly due to the less punitive rough, score considerably better. I felt I contributed my fair share to the team effort (which had been my worry following the previous day's disaster) and it put a smile back on my face.
Am I still worried about my golf game, particularly my driving? Of course. I wouldn't go so far as to say it keeps me awake at night, but I do find myself regularly thinking about some of the shots I have produced with the driver in the past compared to what I am producing now. The fact that my stock shot used to be a fade/slice whereas, currently, I am treading a (very) fine line between a draw and a hook.
Will it get better? Will I get back the confidence I used to have with my swing? Well, I will admit to taking a small amount of comfort from a tweet I saw by Hank Haney the other week. To paraphrase, he said that all the greatest players have spent some time fighting a hook.
Thanks, Hank.
I am the Part-Time Golfer
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