Those of you who pay attention to my bletherations may remember that I was playing in a media outing at the Renaissance Club last week.
And how did I fare? Well, yours truly managed to cobble together a fairly consistent scorecard that was sullied by two pars.
Prior to this pleasant day on the links, I decided to go to the driving range which, for those of us who find the golfing going unbearably heavy, tends to be a largely forlorn exercise as any misguided sense of faint optimism about your game is obliterated in the time it takes you to say, “a bucket of 50 balls will be more than enough”.
At least I could take some comfort in the exasperated endeavours of those around me. There was, for instance, a gentleman in the neighbouring bay whose every frenetic lunge was accompanied by audible groans and grunts of indignant futility.
He looked to be taking about as much pleasure from his labours as a pit pony would from working down a bloomin’ coal mine. At one point, after yet another furious swipe, he gasped, “that's it, no more bloody finesse.”
It was a startling revelation. If finesse had been a watchword of his range session up until then, I dread to think what his alternative approach was as I made my exit while veins throbbed on his forehead and rivulets of sweat poured down his tormented face.
Talking of violent golfing acts, it seems not a week goes by without some downbeat tale of vandalism at courses throughout the country.
The other day, several greens were damaged at the delightful Braid Hills in Edinburgh as menacing miscreants churned them up on their rampaging e-bikes.
Similar acts of mindless mutilation took place at Bootle near Liverpool and Burslem in Stoke-on-Trent while the treasured former Ryder Cup venue of Walton Heath in Surrey once again suffered at the wheels of malicious morons on motorcycles recently.
The well-documented ravaging of Trump Turnberry, meanwhile, was performed by political activists. But vandalism all the same.
And poor old Caird Park in Dundee was regularly targeted by halfwits in various modes of transport down the years. The City of Discovery’s last remaining municipal course was finally closed by the council last week.
Over the Tay in St Andrews, even the statue of Old Tom Morris has been vandalised twice since it was unveiled last October.
Such desecration is not new, whether it’s senseless shenanigans or protesting and point-making. And it can happen anywhere.
Readers of a certain vintage may recall the stooshie during the 1983 Open Championship at Royal Birkdale when the words ‘Dennis Kelly is innocent’ were gouged into the sixth green on the eve of the third round. Kelly was a convicted murderer from nearby Liverpool.
The day before the Open actually started, Parliament voted not to restore capital punishment in the UK.
As one golf scribe wryly observed at the time when the damage to the course was discovered, “the MPs no doubt would have been more inclined to bring back hanging if they'd been confronted with the disruption of a major golf championship.”
These days, the rise of social media, which now documents every single cough, wheeze, snort and goodness knows what else of human behaviour in relentless, 24/7 detail, has perhaps created a perception that golf course vandalism has become endemic. I don’t know. Maybe it has?
Have a squint on Instagram or X – these are social media sites for those of you who live a more blissful life away from the madding online crowd – and you’ll see shrieking posts about courses being “DEVASTATED by yobs”.
Hysterical language is par for the course nowadays and, in some cases, the damage is not quite as apocalyptic as it’s made out. The fine folk from the greenkeeping ranks certainly come into their own in times of crisis and can pull off a rapid repair job like Kwik-Fit.
In the grand scheme of the world’s many ills, of course, a few ploughed up greens is hardly a cause to switch to DEFCON 1. Trump may disagree on that one, mind you.
Nevertheless, the depressing images of tyre-marked or even deliberately pitchforked putting surfaces – that happened at Western Gailes a few years ago – cuts deep into those who hold this game dearly.
There’s a general feeling that things have taken a turn for the worse since the days of Covid.
During lockdown, when you were apparently only supposed to stick your head out of the door for a gulp of fresh air and then bolt yourself back in the scullery for the rest of the week, many closed courses became spots for gatherings and activities before golf opened up again and went on to become the pastime of the pandemic.
Some took the you-know-what, though, with groups having barbecues on the greens and bucket-and-spade excursions in the bunkers. Others went the extra mile with wanton destruction.
When you look at a golf course, and the area it takes up, you realise how vulnerable they can be. In some ways, it’s a miracle there’s not more vandalism. The decent majority and all that, eh?
This grand game is a pursuit that, among its many noble qualities, demands and nurtures discipline and respect for others.
Perhaps those who take an idiotic pleasure in running amok over the greens and fairways should be actively encouraged to give golf a go?
Let’s face it, they’re clearly not getting taught discipline and respect anywhere else.
