Car Washes and Range Tokens PDF Print E-mail
Written by Sara Woodward   
Monday, 08 March 2010 14:04

I watched the Club Repairer cut the grip off the seven wood with a Stanley knife. His black hair laced with grey, his green eyes narrowed as he concentrated on removing the grip from the shaft. The workshop smelt of metal and white spirit and the lathes were old and the colour of mushy peas. It took me back to childhood, watching the creation of miniature steam engines which puffed their way beyond the rose bed, past the pond and vegetable garden and back again.

Irons were stacked around the room in various states of repair. In bundles or propped against the wall. One was clamped in the vice. It looked like a seven iron which had seen better days. The workshop floor was covered with iron filings and bits of tape soaked in white spirit. Coffee cups sat on ledges with sugary silver spoons resting against the handles. In the bin, an apple core and half eaten stale cheese and pickle roll. A tub of green Swarfega was next to the vice, its top wedged back at a crooked angle. A calendar showing sheep grazing on the hillside in the Highlands was taped to the wall.

 
The Road To Redemption PDF Print E-mail
Written by Sara Woodward   
Monday, 01 March 2010 11:04

So the Fallen One has finally emerged from the blue velvet curtains and spoken to a select coterie concerning his past misdemeanours. His mother booked a VIP seat and proved all mothers love their sons, despite their failings. No doubt the mother of Brutus would have hugged her son after the knife incident although Brutus was driven by not by his loins, but his love of Rome. Woods disappeared behind the curtain to travel the road of redemption. What manner his atonement makes concerning his family is for him to decide, behind closed doors.

When he chooses to return to golf, there are other concerns which need to be addressed by those who are charged with setting rules and standards for the noble game.

The powers that be who hold high office are entrusted to ensure golf professionals uphold the highest standards of behaviour and etiquette on the course. They compromised these principles and threw away the rule book when it came to Eldrick Woods.

 
The Turning of the Tide PDF Print E-mail
Written by Sara Woodward   
Monday, 01 March 2010 10:56

None of us knew what lay ahead on that winter’s day. Sid woke early and put on his striped socks and navy trousers. It had been the Sheriff’s idea but for some, the journey would be the hardest part.

The Sheriff had been busy searching the internet for a Swindle day out. Somewhere to escape the frost hard fairways and unforgiving greens. The evening had proved fruitful and a deal found on the coast. Bacon butties and a round of golf. Lunch, tea and cakes. It was an offer not to be refused and only needed running past the Golf Police.

“But if you belong to a golf club, why do you need to pay to play somewhere else?” he said hunting for a pair of socks and an ironed shirt.

“Links golf” I said packing the bag and cleaning the clubs. I put the clubs on hold and threw a hot iron over a crumpled shirt. I added something to the shopping list. Between butter and bread. Socks. Then I returned to the seven iron.

 
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