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Tuesday, 3 May 2011

No Gold Cup

High on the Sussex Downs
never vertical
inclined against the gale
or straining at the climb
he in the tournament,
I his caddy for the day.

Beyond us two,
his partner
and his partner's caddy
was nothing else to view,
the unrelenting rain
completing the quintet.

I've often wondered why
he asked if I would caddy.
He might have had a Pro'
with knowledge of the course
and sound advice to give.
Someone to make the day.

Maybe he hoped
that I would catch the bug.
If so, he must have thought
the rain had killed that hope.
Not quite! I loved the battle
with the elements

and loved
his lack of focus
explaining in the rain
how sea side courses
(known as links)
need different techniques.

His lack of focus, though,
proved his undoing -
I'm sure that that was it.
That and a useless caddy.
(Later on
he'd make me left-hand clubs.)

I should have told you, dad:
I would have loved to play,
still watch it on T.V.,
but never could have swung
those clubs (left hand or right)
the way you always did.

11 comments:

Windsmoke. said...

Could never see the point in whacking a little white ball all over the landscape then following it around in all weather :-).

anthonynorth said...

An enjoyable memory. As I see it, mankind is split into two types - those who do and those who don't. I'm of the latter.

imnotaverse said...

What a lovely telling of the father-son relationship.

Jim Murdoch said...

I used to live near a factory that made gold clubs and we used to raid their bins when we were kids and cobble together our own clubs the heads of which often flew off mid-stroke. I only ever played in the back garden. Dad sunk a few holes and that gave me a decent putting green to play with (we had a big back garden). I’ve spent hours and hours wandering round golf courses but never with a set of clubs. There was one out our back door and we would go looking for gold balls or just muck around on it after all the golfers had gone away. I had a mate who golfed and I once wandered around with him but got bored after nine holes and left him to it. I’m sorry but golf on TV is just plain boring.

Isabel Doyle said...

it's not about the balls though, is it?

Dave King said...

Windsmoke
You need to have done it to see it!

anthonynorth
What about we who sometimse-do?

imnotaverse
Thanks for that. It's a day I remember with great fondness - surprisingly, perhaps.

Jim
I may have said before, that dad was a golf club maker and under the rules of the governing body (The Royal and Ancient, I believe) he earned his living at the game and so could not play as an amateur. Being a professional, but not a playing professional, made competion very hard for him.

As for the T.V., if I'm really honest I would have to say that I watch it - when I do watch it, that is - as much for the scenery as for the sport. It's the same with cycling, my first love, I watch the Tour de France, for example for the views in the Alps. (I also like to watch the womens' golf tournaments - but that another story.

Dave King said...

Isabel
Whatever else?

David Cranmer said...

Love the dad-son relationship in this one.

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

Great poem with a final stanza glistening with nostalgia.

flaubert said...

Nice memories, Dave. I used to play golf with my dad.

Pamela

Dave King said...

Thanks David

Tommaso
Yup, I can get very nostalgic at times...

Pamela
As you say, "nice memories".