Fear and self-loathing on the fairway: Why it doesn't pay to be a golfing chump

NZ Herald

4 Mar, 2015 04:00 PM7 mins to read

NZ Herald reporter Steve Deane, left, former rugby league players Steve Menzies, second left, and Wendell Sailor, right, play a round of golf at the Remuera Golf Club with pro player Ryan Fox, second right. Photo / Dean Purcell

Golf clubs have come a long way in 20 years. Standing on the first tee at the Remuera Golf Club alongside Kiwi pro Ryan Fox and former league stars Wendell Sailor and Steve Menzies, I am suddenly painfully aware of the technological advances made in the sport.

Lovingly crafted out of huge chunks of polished kryptonite - or something similar - the heads on the drivers brandished by my golfing buddies are unfeasibly large. By contrast, my 1990s era 3-wood looks like something custom made for Tiger Woods when he appeared on That's Incredible as a two-year-old.

Missing the ball entirely with Wendell's whopping appendage would seem to be physically impossible. Not so with my tiny club head, which is shrinking before my eyes as Fox, Sailor and Menzies all smash lusty drives down the fairway of the par five first hole.

The league duo are in town for the NRL Nines and Fox is helping to promote the Holden New Zealand PGA, which starts today at the impressive Remuera course.

I'm here to make up the numbers and not make a complete dick of myself, something that appears increasingly unlikely as my first tee shot disappears off the toe of my woefully inadequate club on the way to its hiding place two fairways over. Shit.

A good drive in an electric cart ruined, to update Mark Twain, golf provides a unique test of mental fortitude. Fear, self-loathing and a multitude of insecurities bear down on a golfer as they address the ball.

Like an Amazonian tongue-gobbling parasite or that go-damn ICC world cup promo song, self-doubt is seldom banished once it enters the cerebral cortex. Even the great Woods appears destined to join the extensive list of those who once had 'it', but lost 'it', never to be rediscovered, most people never have it.

Steve Deane goes looking for his ball. Photo / Dean Purcell

Many are compelled to search, hopelessly, anyway. At certain levels of humanity - mainly mid level businessmen and prime ministers - the ability to not be disgraceful at golf is mandatory. Vital links are formed on the links. Business gets done. It quite literally pays to not be a golfing chump.

The only money up for grabs today is the $40 haggle between Dell (Sailor) and Beaver (Menzies). Watching the two former pro athletes go at it is fascinating. They conform to type, with Sailor loud and brash, Beaver studious and scrupulously polite.

Nine handicapper Menzies has the better swing. Sailor, who plays off an 11, knows it. So he chirps away relentlessly at Beaver's mental defences.

My fervent hope that the pair would be choppers is dashed the moment they arrive. They've brought their own clubs. From Australia. Menzies owns a club fitting business and Sailor is one of those annoying humans who is good at everything.

Once upon a time I golfed. But four children and a nasty case of the shanks has curtailed my activity to a biennial round on a public goat track. It's going to take a minor miracle for me to follow the instructions of the Herald's head of sport and "just don't disgrace yourself".

An ability to consistently hit a five iron is perhaps my only saving grace. So it's with rising panic that I rummage through my bag in a futile search for my go-to club for my second shot of the day. It's gone.

Former rugby league player Wendell Sailor at the Remuera Golf Club. 30 January

Vanished. Not sodding there, presumably a victim of a can-a-hole challenge gone wrong. Having summarily executed it over my knee following a mis-hit approach in 1998, I'm also without a seven iron. SHIT!

Somehow I hit a solid 6-iron to get back to the correct fairway, followed by a 4-iron into the bunker at the front of the green upon which Dell, Beaver and Ryan are already patiently waiting. It's a good decade since I've attempted a bunker shot.

And I know, absolutely, that my new-found golfing buddies to a man are rating my chances of escaping the trap somewhere between "no chance mate" and "not a hope in hell".

Bunker play isn't really all that hard, in theory. But with humiliation hovering at the doors of a fragile psyche like a grim reaper with a sharpened pitching wedge, it does get a bit tougher.

The relief as my ball flops gently onto the green is immense. Three putts later I'm happily claiming my double bogey.

Clearly not intimidated by the company, Ryan rolls in his eagle putt.

Kiwi golf pro Ryan Fox. Photo / Dean Purcell

Two weeks later Fox, who is known for his impressive length, will win the Queensland PGA with a stunning eagle-eagle finish. The result lifts him to a career-high 203 in the world - the highest Kiwi on the world rankings.

He'll start as one of the favourites for the NZPGA today but, on the fourth hole of our round together, something weird happens. We record the same score, a bogey five. For the briefest of moments we are golfing equals.

After nine holes Dell and Beaver are also equal. Dell ups the chatter. And the stakes, to $100. Beaver disintegrates. Spectacularly. The same aliens that entered Michael Campbell's body, pretty much ending his career, have invaded Beaver's head. He turns to Ryan for swing tips but to no avail.

Dell wins five holes straight and it's all over.

With Beaver vanquished, Dell's focus turns to the second match - a 'best ball' contest pitting Ryan and myself against him and Beaver for a pint. Heading down the par 5 16th it is all square.

Ryan eats par fives, but on this occasional he pulls his drive left, out of bounds. "No offence mate," Wendell says to me, "but we've got this won". "It's not like you are going to do anything."

Given my contribution to the match has been a solitary par to halve a hole, it's a fair enough sledge. But I've long since put away my 3 wood. In fact, I've put away all of my clubs and am now using Dell's magnificent Ping i20s.

He was given the set by a Ping rep. Sports celebrities tend to be pretty well looked after, says Dell. He reckons I should drop Ping a line, or maybe write something nice about them.

Former rugby league player Steve Menzies. Photo / Dean Purcell

Ping's advertising material says the i20s were "winners of the exclusive Editor's Choice in the 2012 Golf Digest 'Hot List'," and "offer a progressive set design featuring high-launching long irons and penetrating short irons".

Turns out that means that even a muppett like me can hit them.
I smoke back-to-back 3-irons to be sitting just short of the green for two. Screw you, Dell. But disaster strikes.

My ball has found an unrepaired divot. I fluff my chip, hit the next approach left and then chip four metres past the hole. I make the putt for a six but Dell has parred it. It looks like we've lost it but Ryan announces the handicap system has given me a shot, so the hole is halved.

The 17th is a 174m par 3. Ryan and Beaver fire wide right. Dell pulls it left. The green is clear. With Dell's magnificent Ping i20 five iron (did I mention how good those clubs are?) in my hands, this is my chance. I strike the ball beautifully, it lands softly 5m to the left of the pin.

"F*** you, Steve," says Dell as we set off for the green.
All of a sudden I love golf. My par wins us the hole and Ryan ices the match by gobbling up the par-5 18th.

"What the hell was that, Menzies?" chirps Dell as we head to the 19th. "Mate, that's the worst I've seen you play. I talked you up. Man, that was embarrassing."