Armed with irons number 7 and 9, I descended on the golfing range, pausing at the shop to be fitted with a glove. The gopher is on hold until I have demonstrated the ability to survive one complete round of golf! He will be the ultimate prize!
For ladies who shop I must say that my glove is very attractive but extremely tight fitting. I protested that it was too small but the ‘men in the know’ insisted that they had to be like a second skin. Mine is very pretty, as you can see from the photograph, and comes complete with three ball markers in attractive shades of pink, silver and blue. It is made by Callaway, who I understand to be a reputable name in the game. There is a magnetic patch on the glove where one can attach one of these markers in preparation for the putting green. Be warned, they do not come in pairs! So don’t return to the desk complaining that you’ve been short-changed when you open the packet.
Red faced, gloved, but not gophered, and wearing suitable flat shoes I carried my bucket of 50 balls to the artificial tee and dropped them into the feeder. A few moments later one reappeared on the end of a rubber tube. Peter, knowing how to operate the machine, adjusted the height and then began to instruct me in the art of the ‘swing’.
I had read this section in one of his books the previous evening: BETTER GOLF – EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT GOLF AND HOW TO PLAY THE GAME . I must say that I found this manual extremely easy to read and follow with clear illustrations.
It was in the above named book that I realised how difficult it might be to hit the ball with the old set of clubs we had brought for me. Now I understand why Peter had wondered if they would be suitable, or merely deter me from the sacred game for good. You see, I had got old fashioned blades which are smaller than the more modern ones favoured by most amateurs.
It was in the above named book that I realised how difficult it might be to hit the ball with the old set of clubs we had brought for me. Now I understand why Peter had wondered if they would be suitable, or merely deter me from the sacred game for good. You see, I had got old fashioned blades which are smaller than the more modern ones favoured by most amateurs.
After much practice at addressing the ball correctly, adjusting my grip, keeping my left elbow straight, bending my knees, balancing on the balls of my feet and keeping my hips in line with the tee while twisting my upper torso - and all this while keeping my eye on the ball - I finally swung my iron and despatched my first ball straight down the range.
Beginners luck? Not a bit.
Several others followed along with several hooked to the left and sliced to the right and some which bumped their way along the grass instead of taking to elegant flight! But, and I must emphasise this, BUT, despite my narrow blades, I only missed the ball four times.
I was well pleased, particularly as a surreptitious glance at my fellows in the adjoining bays assured me that my aim was as good, if not better, than most of theirs. (I must admit that many of them were a lot younger- in fact mostly children accompanied by their dads). However, I departed on a high, confident that the gopher will be mine!
To conclude : in lesson 1 I have mastered the art of repairing divots in artificial grass.
Watch this space for more tales of progress towards the greens. and the elusive gopher!
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