The Club

Chapter 17 - Melbourne

The excitement of pennant season soon relented. I for one was glad it was over; an over-emphasis on winning is not good for a golfer’s soul. There is too much inherent failure in the sport, and obsessively counting scores is a game of diminishing returns. I encouraged the juniors to get back to the purity of the game, the art form, the walk, the exercise, and the surrounds. Enjoy the purity of a well-hit shot or a putt well rolled. There would be plenty of time to get back to high stakes games and tournaments.

The junior development program was beginning to take on a life of its own. We had gone from 4 serious junior players to 20. I was running clinics for the new players on Sunday mornings and tuning up the better players during the week. I had co-opted Jason to help me with the growing squad of players. I was surprised at how unnatural Jason was with the juniors. He knew the game, but he had difficulty explaining things in a way to which the young players could relate. I had found that with young players you couldn’t come at things straight; everything had to be from an angle. I would start with a joke, a story, or by comparing the swing to something unrelated. I liked to shape their natural movements rather than to attempt to force the players into swing positions that were not natural. Jason asked me a lot of questions about how to coach the players. Initially I was suspicious of his questions. I found it curious that communicating with young players was not intuitive for Jason since for me it came naturally. I was actually quite honoured that he was genuinely interested in how I connected with the players and sequenced lessons; finally there was something that I could teach him!

Lately, there was unspoken discomfort in the otherwise casual banter that generally prevailed in the pro shop. The uneasiness was caused by the pending end to Jason’s internship. By August he would surely be applying for other positions in Australia. I was sure that he would make a fine club professional and I was also sure that his departure would leave me with a greater workload, trying to pick up the pieces that Cloudy would inevitably drop.

Today was a rare case where Jason, Cloudy, and I were all in the shop together. The sea parted, a bush burned, and Cloudy spoke.

“Teddy, I need you to go to Melbourne,” he announced.

“Pardon?” I said.

“Yeah, apparently we have some member here named Lorna, and she’s been asked to go down to Melbourne for a week to play with some other gals,” he said. “I need someone to go down there with her so I don’t have to watch a bunch of 12-year-old girls attempt to hit a golf ball. Not good for my liver either. I’ve got too many buddies in Melbourne – I’d be staggering back from St. Kilda every night and probably wouldn’t make it down to the course anyway. Nasty, just nasty,” Cloudy said as his voice trailed off out the door.

Cloudy’s attempt at a casual attitude didn’t ring true. He knew Lorna’s swing by heart as he did with all of the juniors, and at times when I was stumped he would always have a tip at the ready for me. Yet here, in front of Jason, the brave persona was back.

I looked at Jason with a puzzled expression on my face.

“I guess you’re going to Melbourne,” Jason proclaimed.

The next day Lorna came in with a huge smile, clutching a letter with all the details. It invited her, along with 9 other girls from Australia, to come to Melbourne with their coach for a week of high level instruction and training. The idea was to select players for the national team. Lorna was high as a kite.