I’m no fan of golf stories (except as told by PG Wodehouse’s Oldest Member), and golfers telling of their own exploits is even worse. But. I won last week’s annual Golf Tour and this is my blog.
Seven rounds played over four days and four courses on the Lancashire & Merseyside coast. Nine friends, with handicaps ranging from 6 to 17, Stableford scoring. Me off 13.
Tour wisdom suggested an average of 30 points per round would win; I was averaging 32.8 after six rounds, with a lead of 17 points going into the final round at Formby Golf Club. Job done, it seemed.
Ultimately, yes, but that doesn’t tell half the story of the final round. My playing partner and closest challenger scored a lifetime best 45 points and had reduced the deficit to three points with two holes to play. I was shaking like a shitting dog, unsure how to explain blowing such a lead.
It would be wrong to say I fell over the line (I parred three of last four holes), but there was mighty relief at the end. And also pleasure in being part of an excellent week of sport – fitness, etiquette, fair play and mental pressure were all required. A good week. Thanks to all involved.