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 I took up Golf this year. No big deal about that,
it’s just that I felt I needed to get out into the fresh air. No, actually my wife felt I needed to get out into the fresh air, get some exercise and try to
reduce what was becoming a comfy tire around my waist. Me, I was quite happy couching it, watching Sports and dozing off. Heh, when you
get to my age, I reckon you’ve earned it having skilfully avoided heart attacks, stress attacks, ulcers and any other form of hazard to guys my
age. It’s a veritable minefield, I tell ya.
So, she bought me some clubs, which was a
good place to start, I guess. I’d have mulled it over for a summer or two weighing up the merits of Ping over Muzone. I mean it gets confusing with so
many choices. I’d be bound to pick the wrong ones and then what sort of a klutz would I look like when I turned up at the local club. They’d all be looking
at me thinking what an idiot I was to play with THOSE clubs. Any way, she brought’em home, and to be fair, they looked pretty cool. Nice bag, too.
Now because she’s a classy lady and wants me not only to play with cool
clubs, I then had to look cool too. What? This was getting out of hand now. Off we went one weekend to ‘The American Golf Shop.’ It’s a chain deal.
They’re all over now in all the Malls. We walked in and the salesmen fall on us like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat. “Whoa, back off fellas, we’re
just browsin. Gimme some space here.” Well, it was nice stuff, pricey, but well if you can’t play good at least you can look good, least that’s what she
said and I agreed.
Well, we went home and I got slacks, shoes, cap, rain jacket, sweater and
one white glove. I looked like Michael Jackson! Actually when my wife put on the glove, she looked more like Michael, but that’s another story. I got on the
back lawn and swung the club, seemed okay. Well, next time I’d use the ball. Balls? I hadn’t got any balls. I know. I know. That’s been said about me for
ages. It’s all rumours, never substantiated.
So the next day I went to the discount store to buy balls. The way I figured it,
for the first year or so I’m going to lose a lot, so why buy expensive. I saw just what I wanted – Lakeland balls 100 for $40, seemed like a deal. I opened
the box and they were all different, seems there’s this business where these snorkel dudes get the rights to dive on Golf Courses and retrieve all the balls
from Lakes and Water Hazards that have been ditched there by the luckless Golfers. They then recycle them, package them and sell’em on. Well, for a
beginner like me, I couldn’t go wrong. I’ll probably dump’em right back in the water anyway.
The first day dawned to go to play the game. My neighbour, who retired
young and now looks forty if he’s a day, agreed to take me out and show me the basics. I put on all the gear and felt faintly stupid. I mean a bit bogus ‘cos
I looked so great, I wouldn’t have looked out of place at Gleneagles. My neighbour, Brian, took me to the Range first. Good call, as practice was what
I needed out of the glare of the first tee. That, I’m not looking forward to. I was bound to be sooooo bad, no amount of great clothes were going to cover up
the fact that I was useless.
Now, I’d watched the game a lot on TV and I tried to copy what I’d seen,
looked fairly easy. I swung, hit fresh air and I think I pulled something. No, this was not easy. I tried again and the ball hit the side of the stall with a
crack that could be heard five miles away. “Watch the ball,” Brian says, “not where you hope it’s going.” Once more I swung back and then forward staring
at the ball and I connect. Ah, piece of cake. It goes up and away, straight then curves way off to the right, but I hit it. Felt good and I’m hooked. 200
balls later I was very sore, but I was into it big time.
A week later, Brian took me out onto the course itself and I was pumped.
Four hours later I was totally shot, physically and mentally. This was so hard. You got the tee game okay, but then the middle game and the short game
were awful. Got the middle game corrected and then, well you follow my thought. Too much to think about and it was not relaxing, it was stressful.
Yet, I was more hooked than ever. I could not let this beat me, and it hasn’t it either.
Why am I rambling on about Golf? Well, the above is true and I am hooked
on Golf in more or less the way I described. What has intrigued me more than the game itself is the etiquette of Golf. The rules are extensive, strict
and universal. Everyone knows, and what is more, abides by the code laid down. It’s accepted that if you want to play properly and to a certain standard
, then you must abide by the rules of Golf. I got thinking as I strolled around. Yes, strolled the full 18 holes as “buggies are not allowed” on my course
(Note: MY course) which a lot of top dart players play and to a man totally accept the rules which at times are plain stupid in terms of some of the nick
pickitty, arty farty nonsense that they are.
For example, in my Club House, “Members cannot remove their Jacket
unless the Club Captain has done so.” What?! “Ladies must park in the Ladies Car Park, Men in the Men’s Car Park.” Seems fair! “Socks must be
worn to just below the knee, if wearing shorts. Ankle socks are not allowed.” A tad unnecessary, but Okee Dokee! “Ladies may only play up to 4:00 pm
on weekdays. Weekend play is forbidden.” Now you’re talking. “Ladies are not obliged to let Men play through.” Pay back! “T-Shirts are banned,
collared leisure shirts only which must be tucked into the slacks and positively no jeans.” Okay for wash board stomach guys, pretty unsightly on us fat dudes.
Anyway, you get the drift. No grumbles no matter how absurd the rules. You
wanna play, live with them. However, and my point (eventually) is that some of these same guys who blindly accept what are pretty draconian rules of
Golf, bitch like crazy at some of the moderate rules of Professional Darts, their own game!
For instance!
- Reporting to the Tournament Director at least two hours before your
game on television that you are in the Player’s Room.
- Wearing Sponsors Shirt patches that are no more than six square inches.
- Not infringing the exclusion Zone around the Oche when retrieving your
Darts or waiting to throw your darts.
- Informing The Tournament Director where you are staying and leaving
a mobile phone contact number in case the timing of your game is changed.
- Conforming to Standard Playing Rules of Play and Conduct, a copy of
which all players have been sent together with their invitation to play.
Those are just a few examples and amateur players may find them strict,
unnecessary, and draconian. At the Las Vegas Desert Classic, Ricky Villanueva fell foul of them and was scratched from the TV rounds and his
Prize money withheld (although subsequently it was reinstated at the discretion of the PDC Board). You know, if you want to play at the highest
level read the rules, not once but twice. And, more importantly understand their impact. They ALL apply to you. They are not dreamed up to catch you
out, give you a hard time, or make your day less enjoyable. They are, like golf, there to best serve everyone and make us as professional as possible to
the outside world, who probably regard us as a bunch of undisciplined alcoholics. Perish the thought!
The Pro Rules continue to be revised as prize money increases and thus the
pressure to win goes up correspondingly. Hey, it’s human nature to, maybe not break the rules, but certainly to bend’em. The pro game must be a level
playing field from the rules aspect as more and more amateur players try to break into the Pro ranks. At The World Matchplay in the players Lounge and
practice room the rules were displayed prominently in large print even though all players had a copy sent to them. Why? So there is no room for error, no
doubt, no chance that a player can plead ignorance. The Officials have a tough job anyway to make sure that the best conditions prevail for players to
be able to play at their best. Playing on TV is tougher than most imagine. Observing rules just helps everyone, the players more than most, oddly enough.
Well, I’m off to play another eighteen holes. I’ve read the rules and will
comply and will walk, as no buggies are allowed ???
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