Thanks for the advice about practice, chaps. We don't have a practice fairway, just a net and a practice green that doesn't seem to bear a lot of relation to the greens on the course! But I'll remember that for competition play.
So, to recap, yesterday's task: 3rd and final round, against the club chairman, and chap in charge of handicapping. I have to beat 100 - I absolutely must if I want to achieve a 28 in order to play the medal on Sunday, but really, I want to beat that by something - anything! I think realistically 25 should be a goal, but I just want to beat 28. But I guess we'll see...
I was kind of surprised when the chairman brought along a friend who'd only just started, but no worries, was glad to have someone else to play with - I had plenty of time and the he obviously wanted to kill two birds with one stone.
1st tee shot, straight up the middle. The first 4 holes go bogey, bogey, bogey, par, and after 4 holes, I'm in the pleasing position of being level with my 12HC partner. The fifth tee shot, again, straight up the middle, the 3 iron to the green slightly left, into the heavy rough, but within 20 yards. God, I love the RHD! Haven't hit a duffer yet.
So I do. Badly. Flub the chip 3 feet forwards, into the heavy rough. Then, for good measure, do it again. Finally get it out on to the green and 2 putt for a 7. Idiot.
That wasn't in the plan! Two of my three spare shots gone for nothing.
I hate, as I've said before, the drive off the 6th tee - a 150 yard layup before the violent down hill left dogleg. OB left, and by God, don't I know it. My playing partner, though, tells me not to think of it as a fairway, but to visualise it as a 25 yard wide green thats 150 yards away, and that thought really helps.
When I get there, I really have been unlucky to come up against a tree, and all I can do is fudge it on to the fairway. 3rd leaks right on to the bank, 4th to the back of the green, and a not especially inspiring three putt from 25 feet on an easy green is another 7. Goddamnit.
The wheel start to fall off.
7th T shot is fine, 2nd shot topped, 3rd into the greenside bunker. An Adolf Hitler follows (2 shots in the bunker), and I three putt for an 8. Gah!
8th tee, nice shot but the 2nd shot I slice, and I (and in fairness I should give my self credit for this, rather than beating myself on the odd occasion it happens) thought I'd stopped that kind of caper. I trudge back on to the 7th fairway, top the chip back on the 8th, finally fudge it back on to the 8th with my 4th, take my medicine. Chip, 2 putt, 7 again. I wonder if throwing a paddy might be helpful, and try repeatedly bashing my
clubs against a tree, Basil Fawlty style?
9th tee: The shame shot as last night. That's weird. It looks longer now!
I take a nine iron, and pile it high up the bank on the right. Both my partners have trouble. The boss sends it way deep, down the bank at the back so he's 10 yards below the level of the green, and the inexperienced one puts it through the back and into the middle of a bush.
I show my knowledge of the course by bumping my chip wide left, probably 15 feet left of the flag, and letting it roll down the bank for a comfortable 8 foot 2 putt for a bogey. The boss tells me it was well thought out, and I'm pleased with it.
50. Worst score for I don't know how long, and up till the half way point (of the out 9) of the 5th green, it was all cool.
Right. I roll my sleeves up. It's really hot, blue skies, sweating like a pig. I'm gonna grab this round by the scruff of it's neck whether it likes it or not.
10th tee, straight shot, 2nd shot under the trees to the front of the green, chip to the 4 feet, putt it out, par.
11th tee, into the bunker, sand out leaves it 30 feet short, 3 putt, but I'm still playing within The Plan.
12th tee, leaking right towards trouble but it stays on the short stuff. 70 yard low bump and run with a 3 iron puts it at the front of the green, chip and two putt, another bogey, still in the plan.
13th, topped short, but another good pitch using the bank to bring it down, 2 putts, bogey. The Plan holds.
14th (the scene of the earlier haemorrhage): tee shot down the middle, good strike on the 2nd shot, chip, 2 putt, bogey. The Plan holds...
15th, the horrible (6th) tee shot. Stuff it down the middle, top the 2nd, but the 3rd goes down into the valley in front of the green, from where I chip to 2.5 feet. Great stuff. I stand over the 2.5 foot putt for a bogey with an uneasy feeling, and somehow three-putt for a 7. I'm not sure I could even articulate my rage at myself. I'm 2 shots over Plan, BUT I'm standing on the '7th' tee for 30, so I know what I have to for The Plan.
Shove the T shot well wide on to the 8th fairway, and the chip brings it back to where I should have been for 1 shot, 3rd slices well right over the trees again. Provo plays to a perfect position.
We find the original, and I run it down the hill so that it's 1 foot short of the bunker so that the bunker is directly between it and flag.
I know all the theory. Pretend it's not there. Imagine it's not there. Just play the shot as you would play it in the back garden. My head fcuks up at the moment I play it and inexplcably, on the downswing, I suddenly worry about the downhill slope on the green on the other side of the flag. I choke on it, splat, 5 feet forwards, straight in the sand. I've obligingly put it cleanly in there, like a waiter helping someone into their seat.
No Adolf Hitler, please. Whack, straight out to the 3 feet, putt out for a 7, and by God, I know it could have been worse.
Come on. Hold it together. That leaves 8 shots for the last two holes to play to The Plan. This is a tall order, but what the hell... Tee shot is straight, 2nd shot is straight, chip on to the green, but 3 putt from 15 feet. 6. Not good enough.
2 shots left...
On the 18th: Again, I take my 9 iron, and hope for the shot I played last night...
...it flies high and straight. Comes down between the two bunkers, pitches on to the green, rolls to 3 feet. I think I've earned the right to play air guitar on my 9 iron on the way off the tee and do so.
I putt it out for a birdie, giving me a 45 for the back 9 and The Plan somehow has held. 95 gross wasn't a thing of beauty, but it was enough. In the clubhouse for a coffee, the boss checks my card; the HC reduced figure (bringing double bogey+ to double bogey, brings my score down to +28 over SSS, so I have achieved my goal, I have my handicap for Sunday, and life is peachy.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit gutted. I didn't play to capacity today, and I - as someone (I can't remember who) said on here - left some shots out there. 2 wasted pitches in the heavy rough, 3 putting too many times, but in particular from 2.5 feet.
I really wanted to beat 28. I'm gutted, but I'm not going to be down about it. I had an objective and achieved it. All it means is I should enjoy it while I've got it. Roll on Sunday. I treat myself to a Wetherspoons lunch as celebration...
... and that should have been the end of the story. It was only when I checked that the card had uploaded on
Wireless18.com that I noticed that it had listed my card's HC reduced figure as 88 - ie; +27 over SSS. My heart was lifting as I double checked it, and, yup, sure enough, it was +27. I ring the chairman to ask him to double check it, and now - NOW - I feel really fired up. That's more like it. How can one shot make such a difference? It doesn't, of course, to anything other than my pride and self belief.
All good.
Now... Another 18 this morning, and let's see if we can't get The Plan rolling properly.
And Greg - if you ever read this - you will never know how much pleasure (in all seriousness) your RHD has given me in the past 2 days. Thank you so much.