I have no wish to dwell on the mass retreat after 1 hole by 8 of the 12 Ballbashers out on the course, for fear that rumours may spread that we are not fit for the Thin Red Line so I offer instead a sonnet to recognise the normal experience of Ballbashing:
“Upon the tee he stands with focus’d face
His white hair glowing in the morning sun
As his ball is drawn to a foreign place
In scrub and tree, his troubles have begun.
His 3-wood, once a wand in a younger hand
Now stiffly laughs at his ambition
And wedges thinned find all the sand
Is there fun in this war of grim attrition?
On the 18th green with new lens’d eyes
From right to left he sees the break
Far across the green his stroked ball flies
And hits the pin, a par to make.
Now marking his card, he softly grins
Next week, surely, that’s the day he wins”
The 4 Ballbashers, who experienced about 5 or 6 minutes of freezing hail during the 4 hours the round took, scored as follows. The team score is over 12 holes starting from when MikeW rejoined us:
Alan & Richard 8 + 18 = 26
MikeW & Stuart 8 + 16 = 24
The league scores were:
Richard (36), Stuart (31), Alan (27) & Mike (19)
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