This week’s video depicts Grant Smith locating the first fairway (miraculously) en-route to a fifteen over par 81 in the first round of this week’s Handicap Trophy.
Splendid weather meant milk bottle legs were paraded last weekend as players completed the first two rounds of the Handicap Trophy (aka The Duffer’s Cup). Good scoring reflected the benign conditions with the lower handicappers coming to the fore despite the nature of the competition usually lending itself to banditry. The final two rounds will be played this Wednesday and Friday and the top 3 currently reads –
- Michael Wood 127 (65,62*)
- Craig Irvine 128 (65,63)
- Scott Cameron 130 (66,64)
*including an eagle 2 on the 11th hole (his approach shot reportedly hurtling apace towards the 8th tee until the flagstick intervened, sending the ball into the cup)
Special mention goes to Rudi Taylor who notched a hole-in-one at the new 13th hole, believed to be the first at that hole by anyone in a competitive round. I was walking up the 17th at the time and could hear the whooping and hollering from there. At first I suspected it was in recognition of Simon Mitchell finally reaching a par 3 green in less than two shots but no, it was Rudi & co celebrating the hole’s first ace.
In other news, it’s my solemn duty to report a most unsavoury exchange between myself and a Stonehaven Golf Club living legend in the clubhouse following our respective rounds. Given we boast seven club championships between us, I take no pleasure in outing this individual’s affrontery but such rank impertinence cannot be permitted to pass without comment. I won’t embarrass the individual by naming him but his name rhymes with ‘meal’ and his 3ball was completed by his son Stuart and friend Harold, let’s just leave it at that.
It all began when word spread directly after my round (thank you Judas Cameron) that I’d submitted a no-return (NR) despite having pilloried such a practice in recent weeks on these pages. The suggestion from my accuser was that my NR demonstrated breathtaking hypocrisy, but in fact nothing could be further from the truth. An NR in my language is the cowardly ripping up of a card having racked up a high score, or the refusal to complete a round because you’re having a shocker. My situation however represented neither of these lamentable practices, yet irony to end all ironies, the origination of this scurrilous accusation in truth lay entirely at the door of the very individual now issuing me pelters. Let me explain.
The new 13th hole is a short par 3, the length of which is a struggle to gauge. As such, I over-clubbed horribly, sailing two consecutive tee shots over the green. The second of these I’d hoped might have remained on the golf course but having plodded down to the greenside it soon became apparent that, like my first attempt, my second tee-shot had indeed also gone OB.
Now in the normal course of events, one would shuffle back to the tee and re-load for a third time, but looking up the hill to the tee-box 120 yards away, I was greeted by the sight of two erstwhile club stalwarts, hands on hips, piercing me with that double teapot glare that instructs you not to dare walk back and simply to move onto the next hole. Recognising their palpable impatience and wordless menace, and in the interests of facilitating a smooth pace of play for all and sundry, I gallantly fell upon my sword and, instead of re-loading, moved onto the 14th hole once my playing partners had putted out. It was a selfless act on my part given it signalled the end of my participation in the competition, despite my score being commendable until that point.
Imagine my disappointment therefore when I was goaded by the aforementioned individual in the clubhouse afterwards for registering a no-return. His assertion that I had no business criticising others for the temerity of recording NR’s when I’d submitted one myself was vehement and sustained, leaving me somewhat disgusted. My defending argument that I was simply being benevolent to others fell on deaf ears, as did my suggestion that there’s a marked difference between NR’s of abject surrender and those of selfless gallantry. Realising that my protests were futile, I gracefully withdrew to order pie, chips and beans whilst my accuser and his gaggle of sycophantic cohorts continued to deride my NR.
Quite frankly it won’t do and I’m compiling a strongly worded letter to the Club Captain regarding the matter. If this is the type of disrespect a former Junior Champion (1986, I won with room to spare) is afforded then matters have come to a pretty pass. Meantime, I look forward to enjoying the last laugh later this season when triumphing in the Senior Championship. My short game is on the mend, my putting is exemplary and I’m hitting more greens in regulation than you’ve eaten hot dinners. I consider myself something of a front runner and no mistake. I’ll let my golf to do the talking.