A new season brings new opportunities.
Not only is this my first year as an ambassador, but following a fateful afternoon in the sun last autumn, I now have the unenviable title of ‘scratch team captain’.
Cue a winter of fixture negotiations and a summer of finding 8 barely single figure members to risk a 10/8 humiliation playing against the visiting teenage aspiring pro off +2.
I am also getting married in a few weeks. Cue weekends of wedding meetings, suit fittings, song choices and importantly, the stag do.
I’m not going to admit which one I was or am more nervous about, but these two worlds crashed together in a frenzied weekend a few weeks back.
With a ‘surprise’ stag do on the horizon, there were a few that were unable to attend the long weekend away, so the main event was supplemented with a day of golf and a few beers the weekend before.
It happened to also be the day before my first Scratch Match. With only a few weeks notice, there wasn’t a huge amount I could do about it either, apart from arm myself with my lucky blue bunker polo.
To cut a long story short, I drew the young ‘only wear UnderArmour’ guy with the very shiny blades. With 3 hours sleep, a 6am start and a 2 hour journey in the tank, I found myself 1 down after one. At the back of my mind I was thinking ‘this is going to be over quick, just don’t embarrass yourself’, especially after my competitor left his drive within 4 foot off the pin on the par 4 second.
Either flavoured vodka shots have some mystical golfing power, the luck of the polo triumphed over adversity or my opponent simply felt sorry for me, after 10th I found myself 3 up. The shakes got to me by the 16th, but I hung in there to win 1up.
We ended up losing the match overall, the lucky polo remains in the match day wardrobe, but yet again, my 10 handicap comes into question.