So, I got there early - had to drive the missus into work at 7:30, so had time to crack through the first four holes as a warm-up, and it was really useful. Made a couple of pars and was feeling good.
What is it about superstition? At the moment, it seems whenever I see squirrels on the course, good things happen, and again, I saw squirrels. I'm not remotely superstitious, but, well, I figure, it doesn't do any harm (does it?
)
So, I meet the guy I'm going to be playing with, and we crack off promptly for a two ball.
First tee, I haven't even remembered to be nervous; there hasn't been time. So the 3 iron comes out and I smack it one. It leaks right on to the bank but it's safe. It needs a 7 iron punt back on to the fairway but it's ok.
Now I remember the nerves. How dumb. Why now?!
3rd shot; pitch on to the big bank on the left - there's a lot of bail out there, but inexplicably I leave it short, for another pitch, a 2 putt, and a 6 for the first.
That's ok. Wanted a five but that's ok.
2nd hole. OB left has been bothering me. Smack it down the middle, putt from off the green, putt, par. COME ON!!!
Feeling better, and the 3 iron drive off the third is a good strike, but leaks left into the trees, but I can punt it down the fairway, and get a good 5 on the par 4.
This is starting to feel ok. My opponent is playing unremarkable but remarkably successful golf, but I'm trying to ignore that. I'm starting to forget what I'm doing, and just play my game. I remember Luke!! ("We used to bullseye womprats back home..." This is my course and my way of playing it. I'm just fitting back in with what I do every morning at 6:30) Next two holes go bogey, bogey, until I'm staring down the barrel of the 6th hole. The gates of hell...
This hole is a nightmare for me. It's 270 yards but the last 100 are violently doglegging downhill left. Accordingly, it's 130 off the tee, then 110 to punt it down the hill. The problem is, OB is left, many trees are right, and it needs to be straight, no matter what, even if very short, to get to the green in two.
I whack a seven iron out there, and I nearly cross myself while I do it, and I'm an atheist. It flies straight, and I smile.
As I stride up the next shot, I forget rule (2) and smack it without focussing on straightening my left arm. hit it off the toe into the right trees and lose it, and kick myself. I've been so careful, and really let one slip through the net. I've played a provisional, and get away with a 7 no a hole where a 5 would be welcome.
I keep thinking WWSD - What Would Scrags Do? I know for sure he wouldn't be checking his card on the way into the 7th hole, but I can't help it. I'm on 30 and 30's good. I smile, feeling slightly guilty, knowing I shouldn't be checking.
7th is SI 1, a long par 4 350 yarder, veering left. The five iron lay up is sweet, the 3 iron into the greenm is not, but the following pitch is on. Chance for 5, but I three putt, on a tough green. 6 is ok.
OK. 36.
Smack the 3 iron up the middle of the 300 yard 8th. I have to start playing woods, but the 3 is working so well, and the woods can wait til the practise range. I get bogey. The short but interesting par 3 nineth waits; rubbish tee shot but I rescue it well with a short pitch, following the bank down into the green, leaving a two put for a bogey.
I have to double check on my phone (running Wireless18); yup!
45. COME ON!!!!
So chuffed. That's the magic number, that's what I want. Never mind the missed 3 footers; my short game's been great. I've really played around the greens, using the banks and slopes pretty much as I wanted. The putting's been ok, the striking's been ok, but 45? That's great. As long as I hold it together, the back nine don't have to be amazing. I just have to remember Plan A - beat 100. Percentage golf. Bring it on...
10th tee (9 hole course: same as 1) Is it laxness? I don't know. I hate this drive. Let the 3 iron slip left into the trees. I watch for ages ,then see it tumble down into the thick rough at the bottom. It's proabably 100 yards away, but when I get there, can I find it? Man.... We both look. No sign. I'm so annoyed - I know it's there. But in the end I have no choice. My opponent offeres me a drop from the woods, but that's not what I'm here for.
My 3rd from the tee goes the other way, into the bank on the right in the same place as my first tee shot. Again, I hoik a 7 iron back onto the fairway, but the chip this time finds the bank, and rolls down, a make-able three footer for 6.
Miss. Damnit. A 7.
Shake myself.
Come on.
Par 3 11th. Fudge it right into the dense trees that slope violently away right. The provsional is perfect, 15 yards short, just short of the green in the middle.
Unfortunately, I find the first one, half way down the bank, buried in a forest of trees. Nowhere to drop, and S&D is no use. Somehow I whack it back into play, but it stil takes a pitch and (stupidly) 3 putts. 6.
The golden thread starts to trickle away from me, and I dive after it. A great tee shot is smacked away with the 3 iron, resulting in another bogey (remember; Bogey for me = good), but the following par 3 has another bad 3 putt for a 5.
Come on... Steady it. Fluff the 13th tee shot, top the 2nd and through the back (tho only just) for the third. I'm starting to annoy myself. I know I can do this. What is this? Flap at the chip and leave it short, two putt, and somehow get a 6 on a hole that I really don't deserve.
Come on. WWSD?
He 'd sort this sh1t out. He'd relax and swing easy.
My bogey hole, the 6th/15th. A 7 iron, just get in play. I relax, square my wrists, swing easy, and smack it down the middle; smile, watching, before wondering why the club feels so light, and why there was a funny noise behind me. The clubs my Dad lent me have given up. The head of the 7 has separated from the shaft, and I put both bits in my bag, feeling at least glad the shot went ok.
I see - and I kid you not - a squirrel, trying to carry my ball off.
I take an 8 again, trying to knock it down the afore mentioned slope, having already got my opponent to watch where it goes. He watches. I hit it clean and it bangs into the trees where I lost the first ball on the ouward 9. It hits a tree and bounces back on to the fairway. He shouts at me, "God loves you!" I nearly shout back, "No, but the squirrels do!"
On the "7th" for 33 for the back nine. Scrags would not approve and to be honest, I don't want to know, but I do.
The same old 5 iron lay-up. Cracking great contact, and I watch it drop down the hill. The 3 iron is again fudged, and the 100 yard wedge is pulled 10 yards left into the bunker. Part of me is annoyed and part of me knows that to be greenside in 3 is ok. 64^ wedge comes out - I close my eyes when I hit it, stupidly, waiting for sand in my face. 8 feet away. I smile. 2 Putt for 6, and that's ok.
For the first time, my opponent (and literally, the reason I haven't mentioned him is I have't seen his game. I just haven't thought about it - I know he's been playing well, but I'm just focussing on my game) slices one right into the dry water hazard. I let the little terrier of my 3 iron yap again, and follow him (though, I'm gratified to notice, further up).
His provo goes OB left, and we can't find it. This, and this is quite dark, makes me smile. I quite enjoy this. He drops, with my consent (he's only marking my card, I don't care), and fluffs his next. I go back to mine, in the dry ditch on the right, and - and I do this so often I don't know why I don't practice this more - I hoik mine back across thew fairway to the rough on the left. My 8 iron from there finds the right front bunker, and again I swear softly.
Out in one, two putt, 6. That's ok, particularly with my 300 yard zigzag. My opponent takes 10, and for some reason, this fires me up.
18th. Short par 3. Squirt it right badly again. Again, a short shot I would dream about plays off to the right (deliberately) by 15 feet to allow it to roll down the bank to finish on the green 8 feet from the pin. Stupidly, I hole it for par.
Again, while the score is fixed in the back of mind, I have to get my phone out to double-check it, while my opponent is congratulating me for the putt.
49 back.
The 49 pisses me off. There was too much loose stuff going on, but even so, under 50 is fine, and my gross of 94 is one shot off my PB of 93 which I've only reached twice.
I still don't know I wasn't as ripped up about it as I should have been. My target, when I closed my front door this morning, was under 100. I beat that. I would have been delighted with under 95. I beat that.
So why the long face? I don't know. I played the game I wanted to play. I am - genuinely - chuffed as nuts. but I know that doesn't meet my best ever 'handicap reduced' figure of 86, and actually puts me, technically, handicap 30. My club are still happy for that to be 28, but I know - I know - I can play better than that.
Well, what the hell. I still can. I have another 2 cards to follow. I played well, I played my game, and I got the result I wanted.
Back on at 6:30am tomorrow morning to keep working on it. Did I mention that I love this game?