Bloody Golfers, If only there was a law against them!
You know those people who dress in the craziest colors that don’t match. Stripes with plaid, bright fluorescent pants with equally loud big buckled belts, shiny multicolored shoes that would be at home in the wardrobe of any circus clown. The only thing missing would be the red nose, but wait the day is not over yet and with the right amount of beverage and the correct vintage the red nose may well arrive just before the taxi ride home to the hotel.
The now famous Pinmar Golf team charity tournament arrives again on the shores of Mallorca and with it every type of golfer.
Some are golfinatics who have spent thousands on lessons and fashion which they counter balance with the hours spent in the 19th recounting every lost ball every dropped shot, every almost made putt and for these afflicted the game is no longer a game it is a lifestyle that consumes the leisure hours like….., well like sailing or boating. We live it, we breathe it we love it. Of these golfers there are two distinct groups.
Players and golfers.
The former is someone who holds an officially sanctioned handicap of a single digit or even better a plus handicap the holy grail of amateur golf achievement. His or her fellow golfers look on in awe as the person in question strides with confidence to the first tee withdraws from his trundler a brand new Titleist ProV golf ball, the same as used by the very best Professionals who earn squillions every year. This person commands a respectful hush as they proceed to work through their pre shot routine, visualizing the small white object traveling in a perfect trajectory and landing softly on exactly the tuft of grass they have selected as their target a mere 250 meters away. The swing is balanced and poetry in motion. The club connects with the ball and sends it on its voyage making a sound the next group of golfers seldom hear but dream of regularly.
The latter group, equally fanatical, though for reasons that have thwarted many a dedicated weekend golfer, alas are doomed. Doomed because they need to work for a living, some started playing this curse of a game late in life, some need to pick up the kids and trundle off to football practice all the while musing at how much Tiger Woods pays in alimony and if only they could have started when they were three years old. Golf for these people and I include myself in the mix here is a cruel double edged sword. For sure as the sun shines bright on Mallorca in June, this group will enjoy at least once in the round the almost perfect shot. The surprise attack from the golf gods! For no explainable reason, the golf ball flies in the general direction in which it was meant to, terminating on short grass rather than in sand or water. The back stiffens and the stride lengthens. Playing partners commend the strike and make aspersions of your real handicap. For this briefest of moments, this nano second in your golfing career, all is well in your world.
There is another group of golfers who’s prowess with the little white ball readers may be more familiar. These are the people that will make up a large proportion of golfers at the Pinmar this and every other year. The boaties, industry personnel, friends of friends, skippers and crew. More than likely in the spirit of charity and fun the attire will reflect more the over the top look. After all we are here to have fun, rather than to win.
Hopefully the noses are befitting of the day had, and the sleep in the taxi home is a comfortable one.
