Hacking Horribly in the Helderberg

Yesterday I played golf. Trust me, I am no golfer. When I retrieved my clubs from a cupboard in the garage I removed an SAA baggage tag dated 2006. That was apparently when I last used my clubs. I subsequently removed a couple of hotel brownies and a large chocolate biscuit from my golf shoes. From careful calculations of the amount of mould, my suspicions were confirmed that it had been a long time!

The golf day was a fundraiser, as they all are, for our church and a local charity concern that looks after disabled children. The big event was held at Erinvale Golf Course, a beautiful and challenging course on the side of the Helderberg.

Golf courses frighten me as it seems to be an outward expression of one’s obscene wealth. Unable to do compete, I parked at the far end of the parking lot so as not to cause a stir in the ‘cool’ car section. I then walked around the pro shop, eventually settling on a purchase of a second hand golf ball for R8. The assistant and I were both under no illusions that I did not fit in!

On the first tee, a friend and I met up with the rest of our four ball. Two Scottish chaps in their 70’s! Watching them tee off released plenty of pressure in us as it was clear that our golf was not about to win any competitions. Instead the plan was to have some fun. The sun was hot, the wind whipped my short pants around my legs and I drove a beautiful shot down the fairway. It was the last time I would play off that manicured grass, the longer stuff on the sides seemed so much nicer to my ball!

We laughed and joked, and occasionally even played a decent shot. Two good shots in a row were rare and three unheard of! I discovered that if I put my back into my swing I could almost smack the casing off the ball; sending it straight as an arrow as far as I could see. Unfortunately these sweet shots cost me five balls in rapid succession as they went straight in a direction I had not intended; into a wine farm across a road, into the gardens of houses that probably did not know they lived on a golf estate, and into water hazards that were picnic spots and well off the beaten golf track! Lesson learned – tone down the power swing! My soft shots were still beautiful examples of golfing technique, except that the compass in my R8 golf ball seemed to be on the blink, hence my zigzag up to every green.

The last hole saw me provide a demonstration of my ‘Happy Gilmore’ swing. Tee the ball up high, stand well behind it, start the swing, step to the ball, and hit it hard, hockey style! Much to the delight of the Scotts, the ball took off landing just short of the green. Ironic that whilst trying to control my swing all day I had no direction and with the most uncontrolled swing, I got the direction perfect!

Prize giving saw our 4 ball take last place – 24th to be specific! The rest of the field seemed to have had as much fun as us but used their clubs far less in the process. It still makes little sense to me that you want to spend more on equipment so that you can use it less. Our four ball certainly got its money’s worth!

Lots of money was raised through an auction, at least R100,000 ($12,000). Everyone was only to keen to open their wallets and give generously which is exactly what was needed. My wallet was very shy and so I was glad to slink off to the far end of the parking lot and climb unnoticed into my car.

Suffice to say, golf is not my game and I am an uncomfortable man around people of serious wealth. I just do not relate!