Stupid is as stupid does…

15 07 2012

And then the wheels REALLY came off…

OK. I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t had the best of weekends golf wise. Things started badly when Bruce invited me to join his Saturday morning group. I was happy to play with him, Bud and Li’l Stevie Ellis, but I explained to Bruce that, even though it only cost $4:50 to enter, I preferred not to take part in their Skins game as it would mean having to play him even up. Bruce then explained to me that seeing as he was fixing my van at the moment my bill would go up by an awful lot more than $4:50 if I didn’t join in. I could see his point, joined in the game and – somewhat predictably – lost the lot. Even worse, Bud beat me for the third time running. Bud must have been away from school the day they did ‘how to win gracefully’, because he gave me the gears from the first shot of the day to the last.

I’m normally pretty chirpy on the golf course, and etiquette is my middle name, but when I missed a two foot putt for double bogey on #14 I have to confess that my standards slipped for a moment. I’d prefer to say that I tossed my putter lightly towards my bag, but Bruce and Bud were in no doubt that what they had witnessed constituted club abuse and that I’d be getting a phone call later from Bruce’s wife Joanne. (Joanne is, apparently, the keeper of the sacred flame of good golf course etiquette). A couple of holes later I hit an utterly miserable tee shot and wound up to give my driver a seriously good throw. At the very last second I remembered the no club throwing rule and managed instead to thwack Bud’s head cover, which was lying on the ground. It’s one of those furry animal head covers (in the form of a skunk – Pepé le Pew, actually) and it gave a very satisfying thunk as it rolled along the tee box. There was also a click, which I realised to my horror was Pepé’s glass eye, and which was now lying on the ground next to its owner. Oops! There was no getting out of this one, so it was a very quiet, very contrite Bagger Dave who completed his round in eighty flippin’ seven ugly blows.

As it happened, I was paired with Bud and Bruce again on Sunday, along with Henry Bondé. It’s always great playing with Henry – a man whose decibel level on the golf course makes me appear to have taken a vow of silence – and Henry was in especially fine fettle as he played lights out. My game also took a turn for the better and I was particularly pleased when I hit a good drive on #14 to give myself a chance to avenge the ugly snowman of the previous day. I should have known better: my second shot, a three wood, was horrible and headed straight for the ditch that crosses the fairway, 160 yards or so short of the green. The others all hit good second shots (Bruce actually hit driver off the fairway to the fringe of this 500 yard Par 5 monster) and joined me in the search for my ball. Disconsolate, I was reaching into my bag to find a ball to drop when Henry bellowed in my ear that he could see a ball up past the ditch, in the middle of the fairway. Was it mine? It was indeed! I’d got the luckiest of bounces and my ball had ricocheted off the bridge up to near the 100 yard marker. I’m not really into over exuberant celebration, but this huge stroke of fortune demanded a high five with my playing partner. This obviously meant letting go of my pull cart and it was at this point that Newton’s law of gravity took over. The cart rolled down the slope – slowly, yet just fast enough to evade my desperate grasp – and fell into the ditch. Somehow the bag and all the clubs were catapulted onto a dry patch in the middle of the creek, but the cart itself sank up to its wheels in water. Just as I was clambering down to retrieve all my belongings, Doug the greenkeeper came by on his mower. He switched off the engine. “Hey, Dave. For future reference, next time you play this hole you don’t have to carry all your belongings across the creek with you.” He gestured behind him. “That’s why we built the bridge.”

Thanks for that, Doug. Thanks a lot.

So the record is as follows: Saturday on #14 – one club thrown. Sunday – an entire bagful dispatched into the ditch. I can hardly wait to see what lies in store for me next time out.

All da best!

Dave B.




8 responses

15 07 2012
Bud B

A slight correction Dave. I did not play with you on Sunday, & yes Pepe’ le pew has to go for repairs, and get a new eye. How will he be able to see
his beautiful French Frog again?

15 07 2012
Bagger Dave

Apologies, Bud. Of course you didn’t play with us – I wondered why it was so quiet. Apologies also for the tragic accident with Pepé. I shall of course pay for the eye operation.


15 07 2012

David, I am really sorry to hear your tale of woe. I am sure you feel devastated over shooting an ” eighty flipping seven”. But I chose to remind you that I shoot an 87 EVERY GODDAMN DAY without throwing any clubs or pushing my cart into the ditch or defacing my friend’s equipment. Do not be alarmed when you see me on the course tomorrow wearing full hockey goalie equipment to protect myself from flying equipment. If you are interested I can get you into the next Anger Management Class starting this Friday. Help is available Dave. Oh, by the way, I hear that Ringstead is selling off some of his clubs real cheap in case you lose or damage any.
Bring your “A” game tomorrow because you know your friends will all be there to kick you while you’re down.

15 07 2012
Bagger Dave

I’m beginning to realise that it was a mistake fessing up to these small errors in judgement and I thank you for your offer of help. One thing I don’t need is any of Ringer’s cast off clubs. That’s what Lairdo’s for.

Be nice, Robin – you might be my partner tomorrow!

16 07 2012

I feel your pain, DB. I’ve had a couple of club tosses in my day but the best action was watching a certain tall gent snap a driver over his knee – an expensive yet entertaining momentary lapse in judgement. Cheers!

16 07 2012
Bagger Dave

Ooh! I like riddles! The only trouble with a clue like ‘a certain tall gent’ is that nearly everyone is tall compared to me. I can confidently discount Stevie Ellis, Stan the Man and myself, but if I had to put money on it I would have to guess that the guilty party has the initials CC.


16 07 2012

Close but no cigar…

16 07 2012
Bagger Dave

Bah. It didn’t really sound like something Colin would do. How about SB?

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