Member-only story
How to get good at anything
Apart from me and my golf
I started playing golf when I was 11 years old. I love sports, so I was keen to learn when I realised that a few of my new friends at school all played.
Before I even had clubs, I joined them one Sunday morning at Brackenwood, a 9-hole public course, I cycled the three miles to. My concern that my Olympus Raleigh with drop handlebars might be stolen was overruled by the opportunity to watch and maybe have a swing or two.
We waited an hour to begin on the first tee of a short par 3. The queuing system was simple: golf balls were placed at the top of a gently sloped steel shoot. It was your turn when the ball made it to the bottom. No one seemed to mind the wait, entertained by watching the poor executions from the players in front.
My reward that day, aside from being able to watch, was the opportunity to finally have a go once we were well out of sight of the pro’s shop, the nerve centre for the course. The boys took their game seriously, so I was restricted to longer holes with wider fairways where I wouldn’t interfere with play. Pete, one of the players, was happy enough to let me try. He gave me a pitching wedge and a ball, which had seen better days. I’d quickly hurry a shot after he’d had his, mindful not to slow proceedings down — serious game golf.
