Golf Lessons Nos 2,3 and 4: Bunkers and Blisters!


I apologise for the pun but I have clubbed three lessons into one!

Lesson 2 was merely another session at the range with partner Peter in which I hit most of the balls and was rewarded with the statement that I was ‘pretty good’ and in order not to introduce errors into my budding genius I was to have a few lessons with a Pro!
Three days later I was demonstrating my technique to my new tutor.

Lesson 3. Perfecting My Swing
Enter David!
David was equally impressed but warned me against continuing with my bargain steel clubs. I had secretly flexed a coveted graphite shafted iron in my sweaty palms in the Pro shop before meeting David on the range and was prepared to begin my collection there and then by purchasing my first ‘diablo’. However, both Peter and David insisted this was a bad idea. Evidently I couldn’t buy one iron at a time – it was necessary to buy a set in order to maintain consistency. I disputed their logic, but came away resigned to search ebay for another set of clubs as I couldn’t and wouldn’t afford a new set.

David approved of Peter’s initial guidance but adjusted my grip and helped me to relax the shoulders. We painted a red spot on my glove, emulating the winner of the British Open, Louis Oosthuizen, which not only helps me to align my thumb but signals the mind to begin my pre-strike programming!
Being an advocate of mind over matter, I was very happy to initiate this regime into my play.

Lesson 3 ended with advice to head out on the greens immediately, ignore any crowding from more experienced players by ‘waving them through’ (which David suggested they would not like as it would subject their own play to scrutiny) and to practice, practice, practice before my next lesson which we agreed would be the following month.

Within five days of lesson 2, and two days from lesson 3, we travelled to Fareham to pick up another ebay bargain – my set of graphite irons and – wait for it –Big Bertha (illustrated left).


Already I understand the reverence for the name Callaway. You may recall that I purchased a Callaway glove in lesson 1. Big Bertha is made by this hallowed company! Now I felt like a proper golfer! I had graphites and a Calloway.

The purchase completed everything I needed to head out on the fairway as the previous owner was retiring from the sport and had included her ball retriever (for when I lose my ball in water!), tees, used balls (marked with her initials to avoid disputes), scorecard, raincover, bag, trolley, spare gloves and pencils etc. Now all I lacked were spiky shoes!

We remedied the shoes on the way home from acquiring Big Bertha and her lesser compatriots.
Now, let it be known that I have a HUGE problem. No matter how much I pay, or how long I take over the fitting, I always seem to get blisters when wearing ‘proper’ shoes. This is because I have very narrow heels. It is the reason I tenaciously hang on to my old boots which I have worn for nearly fifteen winters – they do not hurt!

Both Peter and the man in the golf shop assured me that the most comfortable shoes were Footjoy. They certainly sounded comfortable but I was not to be easily fooled, so I tried on various types and makes. Eventually we agreed on the Footjoy Softjoy shoe and booked a tee time for Saturday afternoon.

Lesson 4 Teeing Off.
Proof as per illustration – my shoes on the turf!
Peter was stunned, I beamed. My first hole was a double bogey!

Big Bertha struck with deadly accuracy and sent my first ball straight down the fairway. Next I used a pitcher. Not being used to this iron (and probably a little over-confident with my initial success), I missed the next stroke. I pulled my head together, focused and reclaimed my genius. The next stroke put me on the green where I easily putted my ball in two! I insisted we keep score. Peter instructed me in the etiquette of clearing the green before marking my card.
As we galloped towards the second tee (it is NOT a stroll, he told me!) I glanced at the advancing black clouds. Before I reached the tee the first drops of rain were falling. Undeterred, Peter insisted we play on.

I blame the rain. Big Bertha failed me. The ball disappeared at a right angle into the undergrowth. Blinded by the drizzle on my glasses, I decided to take a new ball and forfeit the stroke. This time I connected and hooked it to the left into another group of trees. The only good thing about the second tee was the fact that I avoided the bunkers! I decided not to keep score!

As we trudged through the wet grass and increasing rain storm towards the third tee I felt my shoes slipping against my achille’s heel. I knew ‘the dreaded blisters were blossoming - one on each heel. Distracted by the long grass, the blisters, the ‘four-ball’ crowding me from behind and the drips on my glasses, my technique failed and I landed in the sand!

I was annoyed and frustrated. Determined not to be beaten I drew my sand wedge from my bag and addressed my errant ball. By this time I had lost several! I pulled myself together and reclaimed my reputation, taking only two strokes to clear the bunker and arrive on the green where my putting quickly despatched the ball into the hole!

Eventually the rain stopped, the sun came out, I began to enjoy the game, but not the pain in my heels so on the eighth fairway we decided to call a halt and return to the clubhouse, discretion being the better part of valour!

I spent a long time in the bath, easing my aching muscles and nursing my wounds while Peter washed the grass from my shoes and trolley (‘do your own next time,’ he said, ‘you’ll be fitter by then’) Today we went shopping for heel grips and blister packs! But I am undeterred and will be back on the green next week so watch this space for my progress.