Why I'm an evil witch, but I don't care

I don't actually mind slow play that much. I don't like being held up, and I don't like holding people up, but playing slowly doesn't especially wind me up. My actions today could have been interpreted as being annoyed by slow play, but that wouldn't be quite true.

There's a particular lady who I've played with once or twice who had a stroke a while ago. She's made a great recovery and is back playing golf, so good for her. She isn't as mobile as she was, walks much slower, can't bend down so easily to pick up her ball, and her swing is a bit stiffer. So pretty much everyone is sympathetic, even though being slow isn't usually something that gains you many friends out there on the fairways.

The situation today was that I was in the last group of women, in Lady's Day (I hate that phrase) at the club. And I was in the slow gang, because I was with this particular lady. So far, so whatever. The point is when we were standing on the 4th tee, a two-ball of men was finishing out on the 3rd green. So as we walked up the fairway I mentioned letting them through.

The response was a load of bombastic balderdash, the essence of which, apparently, is that women don't allow men through on Lady's Morning because men aren't allowed out in the middle of a women's competition. It's tough cheese for them. Even though it wasn't even a competition, and we had clearly lost a hole already, and they didn't start in the middle of us but had caught us up, they aren't allowed out in the middle of us. Nope, doesn't make sense to me either. As far as I'm concerned, you lose a hole, you let people through. Whatever the circumstances. Except perhaps a match against another club.

So after a great deal of pompous empty windbagging from this lady about how it was a preposterous suggestion (without any concrete answer about why it wasn't possible) I gave up. If we weren't going to let them through, we were bloody well not going to be a hole behind the group in front.

So I walked her stiff pompous little legs off.

Now that may make me evil, because she's not a fit-and-healthy 30-something. And it may not have taught her a lesson, since she probably blamed it on me not liking the speed of her play, rather than me having a problem with her rudeness to the golfers behind. Anyway, arrogant old biddies don't learn lessons from young upstarts like me.

But it made me feel better, dammit, with the added advantage that I didn't have to talk to her much for the next 14 holes because I was mostly walking 20 yards in front of her.

Image from cinnablythe's Flickr photostream

Practicing what I preach

So the reason can be so self-righteous in my last post is that a few months ago I decided to stop moping around about not improving as much as I would like. In other words, I decided to get pro-active on my ass.

I know! Revolutionary. After all, the reason people like to proclaim proudly that they've never had a lesson in their lives is that we would all like to be natural talents who could drive 250 yards the first time we stood on a range and never knew what it was to three-putt. Who wouldn't like to give the impression that they just were good at the game, with a nice swing and good touch around the greens? I'd be willing to guess most people would like to be people who didn't have to try.

Unfortunately, I was never going to be one of them, so I've had a few lessons. One of the most important lessons was that just having lessons wasn't good enough. Apparently (outrageously) I had to practice as well.

It took me a while to come to terms with this shocking revelation, but I have made a concerted effort to go to the driving range at least once during the week, preferably twice. One of these days I might even finish a bucket of balls. And I generally try to spend 5 minutes on the putting green at the end.

It's square and a bit sad, but I have been trying to play better golf.

I've seen plenty of people who are natural sports people be crap at golf, as well as plenty of people who are naturally crap at golf. Essentially I don't think there's any shame in being crap at golf. But I thought I'd give 'trying' a try – just don't tell anyone.

Photo from macwagen's photostream on Flickr

Chipping Stanley

There's a chap I play with sometimes who is a fair golfer - strikes the ball well, good with a putter - but who simply cannot chip or pitch. In fact, if he has to clear a bunker to make the green, he has been known to go around the bunker with a putter to avoid having to make that pitch. And not for a joke.

I've got quite a lot of sympathy for that. I'm sure everyone has at one time or other had the chip yips (is that a word?). Well I have, anyway. Each time you thin it, or duff it, you have less confidence, and the less confidence you have the more you thin it, or duff it, until you're stuck in chipping hell, where you feel like your playing partners are rolling their eyes and looking at their watches, and the green is the size of your kitchen table and just as likely to hold.

Yep, been there.

So this bloke then - let's call him Stanley - his chip yips mean that his handicap is in the high twenties, when, according to the rest of his game, you'd expect him to be more like in the mid-teens.

So far, so the ordinary story of any golfer. The point that makes this chap's chip yips worth commenting on is not that he's famous throughout the club for being 'most likely to take 6 to get on the green from 6 feet'. It's that he's really quite uncomfortable with his level of golf. He's basically embarrassed that his handicap is in the high 20s. It doesn't help that his girlfriend has a lower handicap. He's one of those people who has never been bad at any sport. He has played at County level for some sports, and ball-and-bat sports in particular were where he excelled. He's one of those annoying people who's a sport natural.

... except in golf.

The problem, then, is that he thinks he ought to be good at golf without really trying, in the same way as he is good at other sports just by turning up.

Chipping Stanley won't have a lesson. That's not unusual in itself - plenty of people get all mystical about the technicalities of their swings but decline the advice of a professional. But Chipping Stanley also won't practice chipping. I've occasionally seen him at the putting green before a game, but he never, ever, goes to the chipping green. He makes all sorts of excuses, professing that practicing doesn't make any difference anyway, and besides the grass around the chipping green is too long, and the green itself has different run from the real greens on the course and blah blah blah.

So this is where I run out of sympathy for him. He has never really tried to fix his chipping.

I don't think people ought to practice. God knows I don't very much. I also don't think that everyone should have lessons. Some people are natural talents, and for others it's just not important. But I don't have a lot of sympathy for someone who sulks when his girlfriend gets cut another two shots, who is embarrassed about his handicap, but isn't prepared to invest 10 or 15 minutes on the chipping green.

I feel his pain but it's entirely self-inflicted.

Photo from Mr Jaded's photostream

Stroke index stalemate

So if the last sentence of my last post wasn't tempting fate, I don't know what was. Today I turned in a net 77. Grr!

On the positive side, I found out that I had been cut for general play by 1. I think hearing that before I went out added to my expectations, though, and doomed me from the beginning.

So my handicap bouncing up and down by one shot over the course of the year has meant there's one specific hole where I sometimes do and sometimes don't get a shot - the thirteenth. This has been bothering me for ages, but the stroke index on 13 is weird. It's not a particularly difficult hole. Not especially long, no water, no bunkers. The sixteenth, on the other hand, is longer, has got both water and bunkers, but has a higher stroke index. In an informal survey this month (I asked some of the people I was sitting with at lunch today) it turns out that everyone agrees with me - the sixteenth is much harder than the thirteenth!

One lady told me that this odd stroke index rating is because of stroke play. Since the course I play is harder at the end (back 9 harder than the front 9, and 15-16-17-18 harder than 10-11-12-13), a match could be over before the higher handicapper has had any of their shots.

On the other hand, no-one actually agrees with the stroke index in the context of our general play. The thing is, no-one is sure how to change it. One theory is that County has to approve the SIs. The more common theory is that we can set it ourselves. I think I'm going to propose to the Committee that we have a look at this issue. What that really means is that the Committee will argue for days about it, probably without reaching any consensus, and most likely nothing will happen at all.

The photo is from last month's committee meeting, via ernop's flickr photostream.

Rain stops play

I skipped my usual weekend golf, although I regretted it afterwards. I was tired, busy, and it was supposed to rain. A lot.

And in the interests of honesty, I have to admit I was also avoiding playing with "what's your handicap" because I'm still annoyed about it.

I regretted it later, because it hardly rained at all. I'm playing well at the moment and I could have pulled off a good medal card. How lame.


Photo from weimieweim's photostream on Flickr

What's your handicap?

"What are you playing off now?"

The correct answer to this question is "what the f*&$ is it to you, %^&*-face?".

Unless the person asking is marking your card and you have neglected to fill in your handicap, there's no excuse for this kind of rudeness. A certain person I play with occasionally, however, never fails to ask, whether or not she's marking my card. Even if we're not playing together. Even if we're not playing in the same competition, but just happen to be standing next to each other at the bar. I don't know why she thinks it's acceptable to just walk up to someone and ask them what their handicap is. I don't ask her her dress size, or "how much do you weigh these days?".

A golfer with manners doesn't need to ask because they don't need to know. How is my handicap relevant to you, unless you're marking my card? It's not. The whole point of handicapping is that my nett or stableford result is entirely equivalent to yours, even if our handicaps are 36 shots away from each other's. "I had a nett 73" gives you enough information, in the same way as "I lost 2lbs this week" tells you what you need to know without divulging the results of my latest Weightwatchers weigh-in.

The only reason someone would ask your handicap is to judge you. "He plays off 8 so he must be good. She plays off 29, she must be shite." In the meantime, we've all played with a single-figure handicapper who's a complete wanker, thinks they're a few practice rounds away from the European Tour, but despite a shaky grasp of the Rules is willing to argue the toss about whether their opponent is allowed to blow their nose during matchplay. Conversely, the 29 handicapper may be ex-Captain, County match referee, and the most encouraging companion to have around 18 holes. Judging someone by their handicap is... unreliable.

That's not to say that it's not tempting to ask sometimes. When someone you know at work turns out to be a golfer, it would be strange not to be curious about what level they play at. Nevertheless I generally try to refrain from asking their handicap, since what I really want to know is how long someone has played for, and how regularly.

Some people are just rude though. When this certain person asked me this week, my "why do you want to know?" wasn't enough, and she persisted until I actually gave her the number. Frankly she could just have looked on the board in the locker room. Next time she asks I'll have to be ready with a "what's your bra size?".

Image from –nathan's photostream on Flickr

An update, so I can pretend there has never been any hiatus...

Things have been moving along in the normal way in the golf club. Lots of petty irritations, as well as a fair few petty people. It's not all bad though - I actually came second in a putting competition, so that really idiotic stance seems to have brought some measure of success.

Not in time for the Club Championship though, where, unlike some clubs, we have both a gross and a net competition. I wasn't displeased with my net 145 over 2 rounds, except that on nearly half of the greens I three-putted and I had 3x four-putts.

So it's obvious that putting is still my big weakness. I have finally given in and started doing a bit of putting practice, whenever I go to the range. This has been moderately successful, although the bar wasn't set very high to start with. My second-place in the putting competition was with 30 putts over 18 holes, which is bloody good putting, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately the success is patchy, and some days those buggers just don't drop. Oh well. Such is golf, apparently. Or it is for me.

Image from jnthnhys' photostream via Flickr