Vegas & The Aftermath - Diary

[kinboshi]

Just met tonight's two Guests, both athletic chappies. One of them is John Regis - that's John Regis MBE - wow, he's HUGE.

Nice bloke though. I said I could guess his profession by his physique. "Go on then" he says". "Watchmender" I say. Not sure he was best amused. "Librarian?". "Accountant?".

Should be good craic on the Show, what a top bloke he is. Was his brother the guy who did Gladiators, played for QPR &/or Wimbledon? Don't worry, I'll ask him.

Ask him why he thinks Dwain Chambers deserves the right to be able to represent the GB athletics team.

Thanks.

[Royal Flush]

Ask him why he thinks Dwain Chambers deserves the right to be able to represent the GB athletics team.

Thanks.

Did he not qualify like the other runners?

[MANTIS01]

The attitude of people with experience to those with less experience is something that often surprises me.

Experienced golfers can often look down their noses at novice "hackers" in the same way that experienced poker players tag those with less experience as "fish". This is surprising because the only thing that separates the two is time invested.

My first job was Assistant Golf Professional at the local golf course that backed onto my house. I was 17 and for a keen golfer this was heaven. Whilst many of the gainfully employed were flustered in suits and traffic jams on their way to work, my daily commute was hop the fence and play the 16th, 17th & 18th. Is there a better way to get to work than that?

On my first day I was introduced to the Captain who was known as "The Colonel". Not sure if he was a genuine veteran or not because, as per Basil Fawlty, I was advised never to mention the war. He certainly looked the part though, ruddy skin, brylcreemed white hair and pencil thin moustache. It was easy to imagine him smoking a Woodbine before announcing "Chocks Away!"

Saturday's were my contracted playing days and he ordered me to be on the 1st tee at 8:30 a.m. sharp to join his "comrades" for an "inspection round".

When I arrived on Saturday it was like a scene from The Battle of Britain, ex-servicemen all about, and every detail of the day ahead was regimented like a precise military operation. I felt rather intimidated. But not half as intimidated as the poor fourball of "hackers" that had beaten us to the tee.

Now the 1st tee is a rather nerve jangling experience for anyone, but when these poor guys turned around and saw a reenactment of the D-Day Landings converging on them, they must have gulped in horror. Each kept offering the other the honour as if to be polite when in reality each player dreaded taking to the tee first, especially with such a large and captive audience. So the first guy, who was literally shaking in his boots, eventually stepped up to the plate. Funny how the falling silent of a large group, out of respect to the player on the tee, often adds to the pressure cooker of the experience. He took a few practise swings, checked his alignment and posture, settled down, collected himself, and then WHOOSH...missed the ball completely. He must have wanted the ground to swallow him up at that point and The Colonel let out a long condescending sigh which indicated his displeasure at the prospect of having to follow this group throughout the day.

Funny now that the player on the tee quickly abandoned his lengthy pre-shot routine and settled straight back in for another go. He no longer cared about the wind or his stance, he just wanted to get the ball away, any connection would suffice, as long as he got the ball away and ended his torture. More hurried now, he swung the club, and WHOOSH he missed again...."JESUS CHRIST" stormed the Colonel as everyone else muttered to each other.

I really felt for that guy. But at that moment it suddenly dawned on me that I was an employee of the club and the guy on the tee was a fellow member. I didn't want to be associated with the humiliation of this poor chap so decided to venture onto the tee and give him a few words to help ease the pain, just the usual stuff, "try to relax", "don't hit at the ball", "smooth swing" etc....After this gentle encouragement, and on the 3rd attempt, this chap successfully advanced the ball up the fairway, and a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.....and passed to the next in line.

Anyways, I often wondered after that why it had taken a 17 year-old boy to intervene when the Captain of the club had just stood there idly scoffing. And today when I read criticism on Blonde's PHA Board of new and inexperienced players it reminds me of this. The Colonel had been playing for over 30 years whereas the poor chap on the tee had just started. The only thing that separated the two was time invested.

When it was my time to step up to the tee I thought I would be nervous, but hey I was 17, I didn't have a care in the world and golf was what I did. So I just buried it down the middle without a second thought. The Colonel who probably felt that his manhood was being challenged, as many poker players do, tried too hard to outdrive me and duck-hooked his tee shot into the rough. "JESUS CHRIST" I cried with a wry smile and a wink. I never played with The Colonel again after that.

[b4matt]

The attitude of people with experience to those with less experience is something that often surprises me.

Experienced golfers can often look down their noses at novice "hackers" in the same way that experienced poker players tag those with less experience as "fish". This is surprising because the only thing that separates the two is time invested.

My first job was Assistant Golf Professional at the local golf course that backed onto my house. I was 17 and for a keen golfer this was heaven. Whilst many of the gainfully employed were flustered in suits and traffic jams on their way to work, my daily commute was hop the fence and play the 16th, 17th & 18th. Is there a better way to get to work than that?

On my first day I was introduced to the Captain who was known as "The Colonel". Not sure if he was a genuine veteran or not because, as per Basil Fawlty, I was advised never to mention the war. He certainly looked the part though, ruddy skin, brylcreemed white hair and pencil thin moustache. It was easy to imagine him smoking a Woodbine before announcing "Chocks Away!"

Saturday's were my contracted playing days and he ordered me to be on the 1st tee at 8:30 a.m. sharp to join his "comrades" for an "inspection round".

When I arrived on Saturday it was like a scene from The Battle of Britain, ex-servicemen all about, and every detail of the day ahead was regimented like a precise military operation. I felt rather intimidated. But not half as intimidated as the poor fourball of "hackers" that had beaten us to the tee.

Now the 1st tee is a rather nerve jangling experience for anyone, but when these poor guys turned around and saw a reenactment of the D-Day Landings converging on them, they must have gulped in horror. Each kept offering the other the honour as if to be polite when in reality each player dreaded taking to the tee first, especially with such an large and captive audience. So the first guy, who was literally shaking in his boots, eventually stepped up to the plate. Funny how the falling silent of a large group, out of respect to the player on the tee, often adds to the pressure cooker of the experience. He took a few practise swings, checked his alignment and posture, settled down, collected himself, and then WHOOSH...missed the ball completely. He must have wanted the ground to swallow him up at that point and The Colonel let out a long condescending sigh which indicated his displeasure at the prospect of having to follow this group throughout the day.

Funny now that the player on the tee quickly abandoned his lengthy pre-shot routine and settled straight back in for another go. He no longer cared about the wind or his stance, he just wanted to get the ball away, any connection would suffice, as long as he got the ball away and ended his torture. More hurried now, he swung the club, and WHOOSH he missed again...."JESUS CHRIST" stormed the Colonel as everyone else muttered to each other.

I really felt for that guy. But at that moment it suddenly dawned on me that I was an employee of the club and the guy on the tee was a fellow member. I didn't want to be associated with the humiliation of this poor chap so decided to venture onto the tee and give him a few words to help ease the pain, just the usual stuff, "try to relax", "don't hit at the ball", "smooth swing" etc....After this gentle encouragement, and on the 3rd attempt, this chap successfully advanced the ball up the fairway, and a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.....and passed to the next in line.

Anyways, I often wondered after that why it had taken a 17 year-old boy to intervene when the Captain of the club had just stood there idly scoffing. And today when I read criticism on Blonde's PHA Board of new and inexperienced players it reminds me of this. The Colonel had been playing for over 30 years whereas the poor chap on the tee had just started. The only thing that separated the two was time invested.

When it was my time to step up to the tee I thought I would be nervous, but hey I was 17, I didn't have a care in the world and golf was what I did. So I just buried it down the middle without a second thought. The Colonel who probably felt that his manhood was being challenged, as many poker players do, tried too hard to outdrive me and duck-hooked his tee shot into the rough. "JESUS CHRIST" I cried with a wry smile and a wink. I never played with The Colonel again after that.

Outstanding post.

[Woody502]

Tikay when were you captain at Ormonde Fields? that was our (dad, his business partner and I) regular course throughout most of the 90's.

[M3boy]

The attitude of people with experience to those with less experience is something that often surprises me.

Experienced golfers can often look down their noses at novice "hackers" in the same way that experienced poker players tag those with less experience as "fish". This is surprising because the only thing that separates the two is time invested.

My first job was Assistant Golf Professional at the local golf course that backed onto my house. I was 17 and for a keen golfer this was heaven. Whilst many of the gainfully employed were flustered in suits and traffic jams on their way to work, my daily commute was hop the fence and play the 16th, 17th & 18th. Is there a better way to get to work than that?

On my first day I was introduced to the Captain who was known as "The Colonel". Not sure if he was a genuine veteran or not because, as per Basil Fawlty, I was advised never to mention the war. He certainly looked the part though, ruddy skin, brylcreemed white hair and pencil thin moustache. It was easy to imagine him smoking a Woodbine before announcing "Chocks Away!"

Saturday's were my contracted playing days and he ordered me to be on the 1st tee at 8:30 a.m. sharp to join his "comrades" for an "inspection round".

When I arrived on Saturday it was like a scene from The Battle of Britain, ex-servicemen all about, and every detail of the day ahead was regimented like a precise military operation. I felt rather intimidated. But not half as intimidated as the poor fourball of "hackers" that had beaten us to the tee.

Now the 1st tee is a rather nerve jangling experience for anyone, but when these poor guys turned around and saw a reenactment of the D-Day Landings converging on them, they must have gulped in horror. Each kept offering the other the honour as if to be polite when in reality each player dreaded taking to the tee first, especially with such a large and captive audience. So the first guy, who was literally shaking in his boots, eventually stepped up to the plate. Funny how the falling silent of a large group, out of respect to the player on the tee, often adds to the pressure cooker of the experience. He took a few practise swings, checked his alignment and posture, settled down, collected himself, and then WHOOSH...missed the ball completely. He must have wanted the ground to swallow him up at that point and The Colonel let out a long condescending sigh which indicated his displeasure at the prospect of having to follow this group throughout the day.

Funny now that the player on the tee quickly abandoned his lengthy pre-shot routine and settled straight back in for another go. He no longer cared about the wind or his stance, he just wanted to get the ball away, any connection would suffice, as long as he got the ball away and ended his torture. More hurried now, he swung the club, and WHOOSH he missed again...."JESUS CHRIST" stormed the Colonel as everyone else muttered to each other.

I really felt for that guy. But at that moment it suddenly dawned on me that I was an employee of the club and the guy on the tee was a fellow member. I didn't want to be associated with the humiliation of this poor chap so decided to venture onto the tee and give him a few words to help ease the pain, just the usual stuff, "try to relax", "don't hit at the ball", "smooth swing" etc....After this gentle encouragement, and on the 3rd attempt, this chap successfully advanced the ball up the fairway, and a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.....and passed to the next in line.

Anyways, I often wondered after that why it had taken a 17 year-old boy to intervene when the Captain of the club had just stood there idly scoffing. And today when I read criticism on Blonde's PHA Board of new and inexperienced players it reminds me of this. The Colonel had been playing for over 30 years whereas the poor chap on the tee had just started. The only thing that separated the two was time invested.

When it was my time to step up to the tee I thought I would be nervous, but hey I was 17, I didn't have a care in the world and golf was what I did. So I just buried it down the middle without a second thought. The Colonel who probably felt that his manhood was being challenged, as many poker players do, tried too hard to outdrive me and duck-hooked his tee shot into the rough. "JESUS CHRIST" I cried with a wry smile and a wink. I never played with The Colonel again after that.

POTM!

Great story

[bobby1]

I'm loving the golf stories guys, I could sit and watch or listen to it all day. I'm a hacker myself but with a decent enough short game to get round in the low 90's when I played. In truth I used to treat a round of golf as a mental exercise in staying calm and not getting annoyed with myself and think I was a far more rounded person when I played twice a week than when I didn't.

My fav story and one I can relate to is the first tee nerves. A couple of mates and I used to play Kimberworth or Tinsley around Sheffield and one one occasion we had been out til around 4 am the night before and still pretty much drunk. It was a lovely fresh 8 am tee time and as we strolled onto the first tee a fourball lined up behind us with all the gear and making lovely perfect practice swings. One of my playing partners was an old Asian sage called Bob Kamsika, knowing that we were now being followed he said to me'take it away Phil' and off I trotted up the steep bank to hit my first tee shot.

The first sign of trouble was when I bent down to put my tee in the ground the earth did a small sway before my eyes and I felt a sudden urge to be sick. Fighting this back I stood up and took a few big gasps of air and thought of how bad this would look If i threw up on the first tee.

I took a practice swing and in truth my swing was horrid, old Bob used to say I had the greatest distance over backswing he had ever seen but in truth If i caught one it went OK but I also had a few terrible shots in there too. So here I am really trying not to be sick I lined up to hit the ball knowing it was all eyes on me. I shanked it str8 right about 30 yards and str8 into the woods with almost no chance of finding it. So, trying not to look like a complete fool I calmly walked back down the bank to my golf bag to get another ball making sure I did not under any circumstances look at the four ball behind us.

On these occasions you know they are either looking around and trying not to look at you as they dont want to put more pressure on or they are doing as Mantis described and getting annoyed that they are gonna have to follow you all day long.

Armed with a new ball I climbed back up the bank and put the tee in the ground again and the same thing happened, the earth seemed to kinda sway and I just wanted to hit the ball and get off up the fairway a quickly as possible, I took a small practice swing and lined up to hit the ball and took a good hard swing.

As Tikay mentioned above there can be no bigger embarrassment than when the ball actually goes off the back of the club and thru your legs and that is exactly what happened. I heard a connection as I swung, almost took off a Knacker as the ball went thru my legs and turned around to see it trundling slowly down the bank towards my playing partners and the fourball behind us.The ball rolled down the bank and finished right in front of them and had actually gone backwards.

Now I wished the earth would sway again, open up and swallow me as I walked down the bank to get my ball and have another go. This time I was so ashamed that I couldn't stop myself looking my my mates and there was Bob with a huge grin on his face and joy in his eyes that I had managed to make myself look so stupid. I took a glance at the fourball behind us to see if they too were laughing and that was even worse.

All four of them had turned the other way and tho I couldn't see them laughing they were doing that thing that could not hide the laughter. To a man their shoulders were going up and down as they all tried their best to hide their laughter from me,not gently either, big hard shoulder movements and they looked like four characters from the Dastardly and Mutley cartoons.

I calmly walked up to my bag and said something like'Im gonna have a look for the first one lads' and trotted off trolley behind me towards the trees. After about 30 paces I could now hear all of them laughing out loud at me and what made it worse was my two playing partners, now nicely relaxed knowing they couldn't possibly look stupid after what I had done hit lovely tee shots up the fairway.

I somehow shot around 98 and actually beat my partners on the hcaps that day tho I was also sick twice too.

[M3boy]

Speaking of golf stories , this one is about happened about 10 years ago (when I was heavily into golf, u know, the time before poker)

There was a national better ball golf comp - sponsored then by Wilson and covered in FORE magazine.
It was a knockout type tournament - split into regions with the winner of each region going onto play a national qualifier.
The prize was a weeks golf in Val De Lobo - tournament over 2 days on 2 different championship courses. Hotel + flights included and prizes for the competition.

Well I teamed up with someone at my local golf club and we proceeded to make the national final. This was held at Buckinhamshire golf course - which the week before had held a major golf competition.

Anyway, I had one of those days where I could do no wrong and we won the national final - by a mile I must admit and there was unrest in the bar afterwards at my handicap (which was 16 at the time). Now anyone who knows golf knows that a mid handicapper can destroy a course if they keep the ball in play.

By the time we got to the final in Portugal, my handicap had been cut to 11

So, onto portugal for the final. I was so looking foward to this and wanted to win. We had 2 free practise rounds , which went very well - lots of notes were taken as to the course, best club to hit from the tees, trouble spots etc...

The night before the comp, me and my partner went out with the rest of the people in the comp and had a meal and a few drinks. Me being sensible, was in bed by 12 ready for our 8.30am Tee off. My partner however, who I knew liked a drink or two didnt get back to our apartment until 7.45am! He could hardly stand up and was sick 4 times before he hit the first ball (INCLUDING once on the first tee).

Needless to say it annoyed me and my game suffered and we ended up last for the day - I could of killed him tbh - turns out he was an alcoholic. I never spoke to him throughout the rest of the time in Portugal and indeed never spoke to him since.

One story about two of the lads actually made it into the magazine (I may have told the reporter the story ). Well these two had been out the first night with the rest of us but decided to go somewhere else and "get some action" so off they went in their hire car, this was Friday night. They were never to be seen again until the monday afternoon!

What happened is that they ended up in Spain and into this Bar where they were soon joined by 2 (as they called them) really fit women who were being "very" friendly. They were drinking Asti by the bottle, but at the end of the night, they were presented with the bill which they couldnt pay so the girls disapearedl. Each bottle came to the equivalent of £100. And they had had 7 of them!!

Obviously they did not have that amount of cash so the "owners" of said "business" kept them there until the monday where they were escorted to a bank to withdraw the £700.

So my tale of woe was nowhere near as bad as theirs.

Oh memories.

[tikay]

Tikay when were you captain at Ormonde Fields? that was our (dad, his business partner and I) regular course throughout most of the 90's.

Oh goodness, what year was I Captain? I really can't remember, though if I were at home, I could tell you, as I have all the shirts, "Captain, 200?". At a guess, until I'm next home, I'd say about 2001.

The prior year, Rob Hunt was the Captain, & Slow-Mo, aka Simon Hawksworth, had been Captain a couple of years before. I can't recall the name of the Captain after me, though I can picture him clearly, & his wife, a most splendidly endowed individual, was a former Lady Cappy.

The young Pro in the Shop was Matt, who I introduced to Poker at Gala Notts, he became very good, & these days, he's a "Trader" at BadBeat, & plays on Laddies a fair bit.

Ormonde Fields Golf & Country Club, to give it it's correct title (it's generally known as "Royal Ormonde") is, to my mind, the most beautiful of courses, with the 1st hole being it's signature hole, an absolute beauty which would grace any Championship Course. No matter where you placed your drive, the 2nd shot is to an island green, with water to the left. The 8th was Index 1, but the 10th was a real brute, with OOB to the left off the tee. Slow-Mo could cut the corner on both this, & the dog-leg 4th, as I recall, the latter being a soft Par 5.

Talking of "placing" tee-shots, golfers always talk of where to ideally place the tee-shot, centre, left, right, whatever. I left myself room to maneouvre here, being a touch wayward with my drives, & I generally nominated "West" or "East" - & still often failed. I really was very bad indeed. I think Bobby1 & me would be OK together, somehow. I wonder if Compo plays? He'd be achingly good company on a golf course.

Jeez, I better be careful, I am starting to have visions of a blonde Golf Day.......

[RED-DOG]

I am to golf what Lazaroonie is to hang gliding.

[tikay]

I am to golf what Lazaroonie is to hang gliding.

Tom! New Keyboard, please. But you could come round with us, & wise us up on the nature stuff.

Ormonde had a resident kestrel, and a sparrowhawk, 2 pairs of swans, & a few mallards. The swans nested on the pond between the 6th & ?th, there was a little island in the pond, right on a driver length from the tee, & they got bombarded with wayward drives. The swans built the biggest nest you ever saw, it was huge, maybe 6 foot across, it's hard to imagine how they built it. 

Some new swans tried to move in one day, & swans must be territorial, because there was a right argy-bargy, with the resident swans huffing up their feathers & wings, & generally hissing & swearing at the newbies.

I teed off one day & the ball hit a swan full amidships, on the full, & it never batted an eyelid, but in subsequent rounds, when I reached the 17th, where it lived, it always waddled away.

The weird thing about swans is the contrast between them floating about on water, or flying, both of which are serene & beautiful, & the way they walk - which is anything but graceful - they have huge, webbed, feet, are bandy, and walk very "uncomfortably" as if they have piles. And that's nothing compared to them taking off, a very hit & miss affair, & well worth watching, as they flap their wings & paddle their feet with increasing rapidity, neck outstretched. Landing on water is also odd, as they seem to come in too fast, & use their feet as skis, ending up a a sort of "weeeeeee" moment. And then they re-arrange their wings & feathers, shrug their shoulders, as if to say "hey, what are you looking at big boy?" & resume their graceful dignity.

[M3boy]

A blonde golf/poker day/evening?

Now there's an idea!

[tikay]

There you go - a swan landing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgd426QrtJQ

[tikay]

And here's the take-off.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74HV1A8UcPc&feature=related

[tikay]

Todays Daily Telegraph ran a piece on Oxymorons. This one is a beaut......

"Charlton Athletic".