Nor' Westa' and an inspiring young playing partner at Waitikiri

Posted by Jamie on 27 December 2010 | 0 Comments | Tags: , ,

I??m camped out in the ??Row Box? ?? which is supposed to be bolted to the roof of Jucy Lucy, but I??m beginning to wonder ?? trying desperately to punch out a blog.  But the wind has other ideas.  The canvas walls of my makeshift cabin are flapping like the wings of a young magpie On The Run after scoring his most fruitful bounty yet.  It??s like a bloomin?? Disney ride up here.  Except there??s no smell of candy floss and Mickey Mouse is nowhere to be seen.  Anyway, no complaints from me.  I lie here with only 4 sleeps, 72 holes and doubtless one or two more lost balls between me and The End.  An appropriate time to look back, this time to our day at Waitikiri Golf Club.

After being blown sideways by the Nor?? Westa?? at Ashburton ?? it??s been hellishly windy of late ?? we found ourselves in the comfort of Christchurch.  Michael with his parents, and me with my grandparents.  I had a lovely evening chewing the fat with Grandma and Grandpa, who are surely the wisest people on God??s Good Earth.  Certainly they??re among the most interesting, and kind ?? I always leave looking forward to seeing them again (and to another installment of Grandma??s cooking).  Last Wednesday it was with great apprehension that I drew open the front doors, wondering whether that ghastly Nor?? Westa?? was still rearing its ugly head.  Course it was.  Waitikiri would be tough going.

Ron the General Manager wouldn??t have told us otherwise either.  After giving us a quick dressing down and instructions to smile for The Press photographer (??you??re at Waitikiri...you LOVE Waitikiri...?) y??er man then set about getting stuck in as we teed off.  ??Watch out for the O.B. on the right there lads...  You??ll do well to break 80...?  Good banter.  Perhaps the first time we??ve been sledged by the GM off the bat this year?  Mind you John Farren from Ballyliffin wasn??t half bad on this front.  The pair would get on well.  If only every golf official was so colorful.

For company we had a teacher and pupil, Campbell and Judah.  Cam a young man of Central Otago origins with a thick coverage of 8 o??clock shadow.  Judah a spritely man of 11 years, keen to sharpen up his handicap over the summer break.  Both gentlemen of a gentlemanly disposition and a pleasure to walk around with.  Judah in particular impressed me with his patience; not once did he lose the rag or grimace.  If memory serves correctly I was nowhere near as genteel at his age ?? not even close!  (Then again I??m a Scot and thus must be forgiven a measure of fire...).

       

The course was much as I remember it from past visits, largely on account of inter school matches.  Conditioning it must be said however has improved in recent years.  The club appears to have sold some real estate around the edges and ploughed the proceeds into a smart new clubhouse and greenkeeping resources.  My feeling is that the whole package is all the better for it, really an impressive beast.  Why they don??t amalgamate with next door Windsor I don??t understand ?? well, that??s not strictly true; I do now after the Inside Word from Ron ?? but that??s neither Here nor There.



For the most part it??s tree lined stuff.  Indeed on the back of Nor?? West?? gales the fairways were tree lined on 3 sides: to the left, right and underneath.  That is to say a carpet of branches lay underfoot after being torn from their rightful and respective homes.  Had I ever had the competency to hit the dam thing down the fairway I might??ve had trouble locating my ball.  As it happened I could have no complaints foraging around under the cover of shade like a swine hunting for truffles.  Judah must??ve been wondering why after playing so much golf I could be so hopeless.  And well he might.

In such trying times I looked to newfound junior friend for inspiration.  And I found it.  The young man caressed his pill beautifully around the track with enthusiasm and restraint.  When a 25 foot putt rolled in for his first par of the day mid-way into the back nine we all threw high fives around like a bunch of Americans who??ve just hit the green on 7 at Royal County Down.  A lovely moment.  From what I could gather, wee Judah lives only with his father, who also plays at Waitikiri and supports his son in his endeavours.  He??d be the paradigm student that The First Tee would love to have in the program were they to spring up in Christchurch.  Which is something both Michael and I would love to see.

JP           

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