Short Story Preview: Are you Fixed? – Malcolm Allen
Much of the enjoyment of golf is in the expectation: you can do better, you have had a lesson, you finished well last week or you just can’t wait to try out that new pitching wedge that the Pro swears by. You set off from home with a spring in your step and goodwill to one and all. As the interpreter said to a German friend of mine on a
business trip to China, ‘Mr Sielemann, the sky is brue, the frowers are glowing, the birds are singing. In fact, Spling is just alound the corner.’
Surely, one of the great pleasures of golf is the people you meet. Well, nearly all the people. The fly in the ointment is, of course, THAT MAN whose golfing personality gets up everyone’s nose. He is quite different from the club bore who can be tolerated (in small doses), but THAT MAN, and he is usually called Sydney, is to be avoided at all costs if both a steady handicap and a stable blood pressure are to be maintained.
Picture the scene. You have arrived at the club car park in eager anticipation of a friendly Sunday morning four-ball. As is the custom, you have made no previous playing arrangements and will be delighted to make up a four with whoever is available. Anticipation of a great day is high, the weather is perfect and the course is looking great. But, hang on, surely something is wrong? You can sense it. Old Harry, who is normally out of his Saab and on his way to the clubhouse before the turbo-charger has stopped turning is, for some obscure reason, buried under the bonnet. Bob, who is renowned for his aversion to practice and his game shows it, is chipping assiduously on the edge of the practice green. Your senses are alerted to danger but, as yet, you just can’t quite make out what form it will take.