The Club

Chapter 9 - One up

Match play is different. Rather than counting the shots at the end of the round, each hole is a separate competition and the player with the most holes won at the end of the round wins the match. There are all kinds of tricks of the trade that players use to psyche out their opponents during a match, but in general you simply have to play good consistent golf and capitalise on your opportunities. As I waited in the Club’s parking lot to take the juniors over to the King’s Course for their game one would think I would be busy imparting my golfing knowledge to my eager young companions. In reality I was trying to figure out how to drive the twenty-year-old VW van Cloudy had loaned me to transport the team. He seemed eager to have me take the old rust bucket when he tossed me the keys and said that he thought it would be able to transport the entire team. This vehicle inspired little confidence, and its manual transmission and lack of power steering rendered it virtually un-driveable especially up and around the bowl of hills that the Club called home. One of the first roads we had to navigate, upon exiting the Club’s parking lot, was Corkscrew Hill. I felt nauseous in anticipation and the diesel fuel wasn’t going to help.

Tom arrived first, with his mother. Tom’s mother was a “hang around kind of lady” and I could tell that she wasn’t too pleased about the transportation method I had come up with for the team. I figured she would drive behind me and pick up the pieces as they fell out of the van. For that, I was thankful.

Next were Harry and his father. Harry’s father didn’t stop; he merely slowed down, and somehow Harry was able to jump from the car and pull his clubs out at virtually the same time as his father sped off.

Dick’s dad drove decidedly daintier. He slowed down to a crawl before every speed bump, going so slowly that the car pitched and swayed over every little hill. Mr Dick was cashed up; he drove a Jaguar that was 5 years old but in mint condition. Dick Jr. was a great kid. Although his family had means he acted in such a friendly, down-to-earth manner that everyone that met him came away feeling that they had met a great friend. His father was also a solid guy, yet a little cautious for my liking.

The last one to appear was Lorna and she did just that: Lorna never arrived; she just happened. So once the other three had arrived, there was Lorna walking from the short range behind us to the van. She always had a big smile on her face. I figured if you cut that girl in two, there would be a lifetime supply of sugar found inside.

The five of us piled into the van; I took a deep breath and off we went. I can’t imagine Cloudy had driven this behemoth in 10 years. To say it lacked the essentials of a modern-day vehicle would be an understatement. The heater did not work, and if you were on the driver’s side and it rained there wouldn’t be much to see as only one of the wipers was operational. By the time we got to King’s I was a nervous wreck but euphoric; in fact I was so joyous that we had made the trip successfully that I had completely forgotten about the reason for our journey.

“Oh right, the match!” I said.

Once Cloudy’s van had coughed and wheezed to a shuddering stop, we unloaded and headed in the direction of the King’s pro shop to register. The assistant pro, Graham, met us there and handed me a match sheet on which I was to place my team’s names, in order of play.

I put down Dick as our number one player, followed by Tom and Harry, with Lorna playing fourth. As the kids began to warm up with some putts, Graham stopped in his tracks.

“Who is this?” he questioned.

I wasn’t sure what he was looking at so I enquired. I had sized up Graham to be a bit of a stickler and was pretty sure that I was going to despise him in a very short period of time.

“You brought a girl?” he exclaimed with incredulity.

“Yes,” I answered emphatically.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Graham moaned. “Now I have to tell one of my players that they have to play a girl, and how fair is that when you are playing a match and your player hits from the red tees and gets a 60 m advantage on every hole?” Graham whined. “I put the tees back to tips. I’ve made it into a real test for these guys. I should have known your club wouldn’t know how to put a proper team together. We should never have invited you guys at all,” Graham proclaimed, loudly enough for Lorna to hear.