GOLF:Trying to 'cure' people who dislike golf is a bit like old-time southern pastors trying to 'cure' homosexuals . . . 'Actually, Bill Murray blowing up gophers in Caddyshack is what I think of when I think of golf. But I nod and bid him to continue'
BEFORE WE'VE EVEN LEFT the car park, Séamus is already making his pitch. "You see that '08 Merc?" I see it. "That's probably what you think of when you think of golf, right?" Actually, Bill Murray blowing up gophers in Caddyshackis what I think of when I think of golf. But I nod and bid him continue. "Look at the cars next to it though: '01, '02, '98. The one at the end is an electrician's van." I take his point. Golf is not the elitist pastime it is sometimes portrayed as. But that's not my beef with it. Not really. It just doesn't seem like any fun to me.
Séamus, an old school friend of mine, has been a member of Ballyhaunis Golf Club since he was seven years old. He currently plays off a 10 handicap. I, on the other hand, have had a lifelong aversion to the sport. It's certainly not a family thing. My father was a member here. He was one of the worst golfers ever to swing an iron, but he loved coming out. I'm not sure if my grandfather was a member, but a photograph exists of him at the 1947 Captain's Prize. He certainly looks like he's having a blast. For me, however, any sport whose biggest stars are all middle-aged men in beige slacks has to be viewed with a certain suspicion.
"I'd say I've brought 10 or 15 lads out here who hated golf," says Séamus. "Almost all of them are now into it big time."
I tell him that he's like one of those southern pastors who can "cure" homosexuals. But, in truth, I'm beginning to see that my friend didn't exactly have his work cut out for him here. It's a beautiful, well-tended course and very tranquil. Séamus outlines the rules and conventions of golf, which I'm going to assume readers are either already readily familiar with, or couldn't care less about.
There are, he concedes, so many rules that even he doesn't know them all. Last year, in competition, a ball he was about to putt was blown a few feet by the wind. In accordance with some obscure regulation, his opponent docked him a stroke. They sound like a fairly happy-go-lucky bunch then, golfers?
"There's one," Séamus says, "that you'll find here and you won't find anywhere else . . . " No poor people?
"No, I'm talking about a sense of fair play." (He later tells me that annual membership here costs a hardly extortionate €500.)
"People are respectful of their opponents. It's not too many sports you can say that about these days."
So there's no cheating at all then? Not even a tiny bit?
"Some people might mind their handicaps. Coming into a big competition, they wouldn't necessarily go out and score the best round of their lives."
That's something I don't understand, I tell him. Why do good golfers consent to being put at a disadvantage when they compete? Do they not resent that they come out here, night after night, practising their drives and chips, only to lose a competition to some fair-weather golfer with a higher handicap?
No, he insists, it's all part of the game. Besides, he says, your handicap is what other golfers judge you by. What was my father's handicap, I inquire? He equivocates a second.
"It would have been in the 20s," he says diplomatically. "Mid-20s. For him, golf would have been more about the social aspect: meeting people, getting some fresh air."
As he talks, Séamus tees off on the final hole and lands the ball on the green. He really is rather good at this. That's probably the real reason I'm never going to purchase a set of golf clubs. I'm just too competitive. I just can't stand to do anything I'm not good at.
Back in the car park, Séamus's girlfriend Pamela has arrived to pick him up. She doesn't play golf herself. But she does take an interest when the majors are on television.
"I have developed a tolerance for it over time."
What drew her in, she says, were the different personalities on the tour: "Like Ian Poulter, who wears those ridiculous clothes . . . "
"By the way," says Séamus, as he kicks off his shoes, "please mention in your piece that I'm wearing normal clothes."
I assure him that I will. But what happens at the editorial stage, I warn him, will be out of my hands. The article may be altered to say that he's wearing . . .
"A tutu," suggests Pamela.
Yes, it may end up saying that he's wearing a tutu.
"Whatever," he grins.
And with that, he twirls around on his tippy toes and dances away . . .
GOLF FACTS
* The first game of golf for which records survive was played at Bruntsfield Links, in Edinburgh in 1456.
* Three hundred and fifteen years later, on February 6th 1971, astronaut Alan Shepard teed off on the moon.
* Ireland has the fourth highest number of golf courses per head of population in the world, after Scotland, New Zealand and Australia.