Serious golf.

9.1.2011.

That's me. Serious. About golf. My golf. 

The late Dato' Ismail Mansor, a senior at RMC, was responsible for my current addiction to this frustrating but facinating game, back in 1978.  I was 34.

When I was posted to Seremban in 1977-78 he was the State Secretary, which made him the  ex-officio  Deputy President of Seremban International Golf Club. He called me to his office and insisted I sign the SIGC application form for membership right in front of him. He even allowed me to pay the entrance fee in two installments. The Government rate at that time was, I think, RM 500. 

But I only took my handicap test eight years later. I was 43. For that, I blame Hank, another RMC mate. But unlike him, I'm still hacking around 365 days a year, if it doesn't rain, trying to find the perfect game. I know it doesn't exist, but damn if I'm quitting now. 

That's why I hate these snitches who watch a tournament on tv at home and call the organizers, about some silly unintentional breaks on some silly old rules. The fact is, whatever infringements are committed, they never make any difference to the shotmaking, but make all the difference to the legal outcome. Like  grounding their clubs in the bunker, or flicking away at the divot while the ball rolled back in. What should we do about snitching ? One suggestion.  Put the snitcher in front of the tee-box and drive a Titlest Pro Vi through his  backside!

This morning I was in a flight during our New Year Medal. One idiot in the group hit my ball for his second shot without ascertaining it was his ball first. When I discovered his mistake he lost his cool and kept at it until the next tee-box.  I tried to be a gentleman and said it's just a game.   I  marked my ball . I  showed it to him. His reaction surprised me.  "OK OK it's over, don't repeat it", he almost shouted. And to think that it was entirely his own stupid mistake. 

Of course, being his marker, I penalised him two strokes and put him for a 10 on that par 5. The nerve of some people. He played shit for the rest of the day. And I think that was too good for him. 

Many of the morning golfers at the Club are regulars who obviously love their golf. Several are around 70, which is fantastic, really. But what they should also do is try to improve their game bit by bit and make it even more enjoyable. But they don't. Instead of practicing their chipping and putting on the practice green near the tee-box, they just chat while waiting for their turn. 

Going to the driving range is even further from their minds. Since my handicap test 24 years ago, I had taught myself by buying books and magazines until I came down to 6 in 2006. I didn't have any teacher other than those books and magazines. In fact I have more than 90 golf books in my collection at the last count, including one  published in 1905 - "The Complete Golfer" by Vardon, the famous English golfer in that century. 

So, if you put your mind to it, it can be done. Mizi (my nephew and a pro) in jest offered me the job of being his caddy when I met him at the Club after the game to day. OK I said, pay me 100 per day and 10% of your winnigs. I'll pay my own food and travelling expenses. 

In fact I can help him with his mental game. But I'm too serious about my own golf. Mizi will have to make a better offer to make me leave my golf for his.

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