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The Magazine

For all the Family

A Short Golf Story
By
Jim Wheatley

"Trevor woke up and sat up in a cold sweat. He had just been within a recurring nightmare the night before an important Golf Match. The ending to these nightmares was always the same. He was late on the first tee and therefore disqualified.

The causes of his lateness were always different. This time he first lost the key to his locker, then his lace to his golf shoe snapped, there was a long queue in the Professional's Shop and finally the re-lacing of his shoe. As he calmed down he realised how preposterous some of these delays were in his case. Firstly He always had his locker key on the same ring as his car key. Once he got there he always had his locker key. Secondly Professional Shops in his experience never stocked shoelaces, he always ended up using a piece of string that was kept in his golf bag for emergencies. Lastly, if there had been a queue, they would in the circumstances allow him to push in.

Later that day, after arriving at the course in plenty of time, having a few swings in the nets and a bit of putting practice, he was standing on the first tee with his opponent. It was a match play, knockout round, to be played.

Len his adversary, was a better golfer and allowing him five shots, being three quarters of the difference of their handicaps. Len was boringly straight, if not long, very competitive and the first shot Trevor received was not until the fourth hole. To have any chance he knew he would have to hang on until then and at the worst, be only one hole down.

The first hole was a relatively short par four. There was out of bounds all down the left side of the fairway, and trouble in a copse for the second half of the right side. The line was marked with a marker post slightly short of halfway as the terrain sloped down after it and the green unseen from the tee. Len won the toss and elected to drive first. Almost spot on the line over the marker post as expected. Trevor, who had a slight fade, aimed left of the marker towards the out of bounds. He made a good contact, so good that the ball kept its line without fading, bounced over the hill heading for danger. Len said, "I think that's still in play". Trevor being confident that the ball hadn't travelled far enough to be out of bounds, replied, "I think I'll play a provisional ball just in case".

He played it on the same line, sighed with relief when it eased left to right towards the centre of the fairway. They both set off down the fairway, exchanging polite references to the weather and condition of the course.

As they reached the marker post and could see down the hill, Trevor could see his first ball sat up in the light rough and about three yards inside the boundary markers. His provisional ball was about ten yards nearer the green than Len's yellow ball. As he changed course towards his ball in play, he allowed himself a wry smile. Not only was he striking the ball well, but also his brain was in gear as well. He'd legally given himself a practice shot to release the tension.

He was much happier and also confident that he wasn't going to lose the game by poor play.

If Len was to win he was going to have to earn it.

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