The Casual Blog

Tag: golf

July 31, 2011

Golfing at Turnberry, Scotland

Turnberry, Scotland (Kintyre)

Last week I played golf at Turnberry, Scotland, rated the number one course in the British Isles, and the site of numerous British Opens. Is it really so great? In a word, yes. It was golf nirvana.

I played the famous Ailsa course the day I arrived, immediately after traveling all night. The day was sunny and mild — possibly too pleasant for a representative experience. At almost every hole, I had a shiver at the beauty. It had a raw, untamed quality, but I gradually realized that it brilliantly combined the natural contours of the terrain with a deep understanding of the essence of golf. Its authors and keepers loved the land, and the game.

It demanded constant vigilance and focus. The hazards were, in golfing terms, serious — deep bunkers with walled backs, knee-high grass, spiny gorse, and water. I had one disastrous descent into a bunker, costing four strokes to get out. But I generally controlled the ball well, with a handful of excellent shots. I did not putt particularly well till the end, when I finished with a flourish — sinking a thirty-footer on 18 for a birdy. I ended up with a 92.

I played the Kintyre course the next day. The skies were overcast, threatening (but never quite delivering) rain, and there were gusty winds — proper Scottish golfing weather. The ocean is a bigger element in this course, and the bunkers less. It seemed less imposing than Ailsa, with views of the surrounding hills and pastures, but the level of difficulty was challenging enough. I played reasonably well for me on the first nine (46), but had a couple of bad blow ups in the second and finished with a 99.

Jim, my caddie, and a Linux fan

There is something about Scotland that spoke to me powerfully. The people seemed friendly, but practical and tough and very proud of their country. The countryside was rolling and rugged. I got a lesson in single malt whiskey, and learned that it a dash of water loosens it up.

After finishing my meetings, I had a few hours to walk about in Glasgow, and found it a lively, modern city with Victorian charm. I made a stop at the Gallery of Modern Art to see works of several contemporary artists, and also visited the Kelvingrove Museum. Their collection of Impressionists and Post Impressionists is quite good, and I also liked their collection of 16th century armor. There were lots of people out in Kelvingrove Park, which reminded me of Central Park in New York, but with grass tennis courts and lawn bowling.

The trip back was long — about 19 hours all told. It started with a 5 hour delay because of weather in Newark, and the 7 air hours were bumpy. One good word for Continental — they provided surprisingly tasty curry as part of my requested vegetarian meal. I ran out of electricity on both my iPod and iPad, and came close to running out of other reading material (horrors!).

The Newark to Raleigh leg was uneventful until near the end, when the pilot suddenly pulled up from the final approach and banked to circle around. My first thought was that I might have a rookie pilot, but he explained that there was a local thunderstorm with microbursts of wind. A few minutes later we made the final approach, and the plane began bucking and shimmying. I focused on deep calming yoga breaths.

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October 23, 2010

Golf guilt and gratitude

It feels delicious but somehow wrong to play golf on a regular workday. Even when the event is a company tournament, even when there’s been a sign-off from management, it still seems illicit. Particularly when the temperature’s in the mid-70s, there’s not a cloud in the sky, and the greens are healthy, it seems like it can’t be permissible. The blood of my hard-working, self-denying Calvinist forebears resists — and then capitulates.

And so it was that I played in the first Red Hat invitational golf event with colleagues and assorted Red Hat vendors last week. The event was at Crooked Creek, a pretty course in southern Wake County. I took my first adult golfing lessons there about ten years ago, and so it has a special place in my golfing heart. Although the overall yardage is on the short side, the fairways are narrow, and the course in general punishes imprecision. Considering the dry conditions of the past months, it was in good shape.

My golfing has recently been in a threshold state — possibly close to a new plateau. From time to time I get a foretaste of the golfing promised land, where a long smooth swing connects the dimpled white ball to a high parabolic arc, which settles in the center of the fairway an easy short-iron from the green. Other times I endure the bitterness of inexplicable shanks, gouges, and gaffes. But this is part of the extraordinary demands and attractions of golf: at any given moment the next shot could be a hopeless, round-destroying disaster, or it could be perfect beyond all reasonable hope.

We played a best ball format, in which the best of four balls off the tee is used for the next shot forward. It keeps things from getting too heavy. The foursome shares the joy of a well-played hole and divides up the guilty misery of one that is played poorly. I enjoyed my golfing colleagues, and particularly Steve G, who drove our cart and hit the ball a ton. We were proud when he won the long drive contest. On the other hand, the pace of play was painfully slow. I also struggled with an odd pain in my right leg. But we filled the time with pleasant chat and enjoyed the beautiful fall day.

I thought of my father’s attempt to introduce me to golf when I was a young teenager, and regretted that I rejected his offering. It would have been a good thing to share, when we couldn’t find much in common. I also thought of my father-in-law, who gave me the gift of a set of Callaway clubs and encouraged me to have a go at learning the game in mid-life when my own kids were adolescents. He helped me see that my resistance to the game was based on prejudices (too Republican, too fat, too white, too snobby) that were somewhat (though not completely) unfair. And he pointed me towards the undeniable beauty of game: courses that are in essence gardens, the grace of skilled play, and the gift of golfing friendships. It was an excellent gift. I’m sorry we didn’t have more chances to play.

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