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
Rain stops play
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?".
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.
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my game
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