A Four-gone Conclusion

UK Handicap; 3.5 USGA Handicap; 2.2

As was odds-on to happen, I have slipped back up to 3.5, meaning I am now playing off a handicap of 4. As much as I didn’t want it to happen, in a perverse way I like playing off something-point-five, as I feel the extra shot I now get gives me a good slingshot to get a significant cut.

I can’t pretend that I put up any sort of resistance to the inevitable rise to 4, I did it in the most miserable style.
The first game I played after my last post didn’t count for my handicap, which is just as well, because it was absolutely awful. Any time where my first par comes on the ninth hole isn’t going to end up with success. In the end I had one par in the first 13 holes, then 5 successive pars to finish, meaning I at least finished on a positive.

The following Saturday was a handicap counting round, and once more I turned a potentially good round into the obligatory 0.1 increase. After a shaky start, back to back birdies around the turn saw me 2 over par on the 13th tee. I can’t really remember what happened for the next hour, I think I just lost concentration completely, but I know I dropped four shots in four holes. A couple of pars to finish resulted in a 77 net 74, which wasn’t a disgrace, but was two shots too many to avoid a handicap increase.

The following day I had my first club match of the year. For the first time since I started playing golf again 4 years ago, I was the player receiving shots, as I was up against a 1 handicapper. By the end of my round, I had a touch of the Worman Swords. All bad golf is measured on a scale, with the Worman Sword being the absolutely worst golf I can possibly play, so named after my performance at the said named competition last year. It was embarrassing playing as I played, against a 1 handicapper who must have thought there was a 2 missing from the front of my handicap, and I was actually a 23 handicapper who had delusions of grandeur. Anyway, enough said, it was miserable, I was well beaten, the team lost, there is always next year.

The round in which I eventually went up to 4 came Friday past, and once more it was ridiculously bad golf. I totalled 23 stableford points (11 on holes 1-6, 1 on holes 7-12, 11 on holes 13-18), the equivalent of at least 16 over par. It was particularly disappointing as I was playing with two people who will push me this year to be the low player in the club. Going on current form, swing quality, temperament, attitude, natural ability, and just about everything else, you would get long odds on it being me being the low player at the end of this year. However, there is plenty of time for me to reverse this prediction, and I am literally counting down the days (42 currently) until the clocks go forward, and evening practice can commence.

In fact, evening practice might not happen, as in line with a broader lifestyle change, I am contemplating getting into a routine of getting up early every morning and practicing before breakfast. Going to bed at 1am and getting up later isn’t good for the mind, body or soul. I’m not typically a morning person but if I can get into the habit of being an early riser it will make me feel better, more productive, and hopefully a better golfer.

After the major downer of Friday, a couple of people gave me some hints as to why I may be randomly firing the golf ball in all directions.
I got a quick chance to put them into action, as today was the club “3 club and a putter” competition, so I took out a 3 wood, 7 iron, pitching wedge and putter with no expectations.
These lack of expectations look well justified when I was 5 over par after 6 holes, but from somewhere I actually found a bit of my game, and played the last 12 holes in level par. For the first time in several months, I can actually genuinely say without lying to myself that I played pretty well. The fact that I can play with 14 clubs and score 23 points, then two days later play with 4 clubs and score 35 points, is not lost on me. For the first time this season, I was absolutely solid with my putting. I didn’t miss anything inside 8 feet. By the end of the round my confidence in putting has risen dramatically, so I was standing over a putt knowing I was going to hole it, rather than thinking about which side I was going to miss it on. Sounds simple, confidence breeds confidence, but it’s absolutely true and is something I already know, but maybe need to remind myself by taking part in my annual read of various Bob Rotella books.

As things stand, my results show that I am playing stinking stuff, and there is no doubt that I need a lesson (when I can find the funds for it), but there is also an element of confidence simmering underneath, once I can get a few tweaks made in my swing I’ll be back in the game.