Country NSW - The Angry Week



After getting on the piss the night before after another 76 final round at Young, I thought the drive to Springwood in the Blue Mountains would be scenic and a nice way to reflect on the past couple of tournaments and how The Shooter can improve.


Scenic my fucking arse, up, down, around, up, down, for fucks sake how long does this fucking take. Find the 2 star flea bitten motel, fuck me, I have hit a new low. My life officially sucks. This place is so small, I cant put my golf clubs and suitcase in the room at the same time. Finally I move around 2 chairs, fucked if I know why they are there, find enough space for my suitcase, then trip over the fucking thing, how good is my fucked knee going now, Jesus Christ.


I go out to Springwood to have a look before the pro am tomorrow, jump out of the car, get a Putter, 56, bushnell, couple of balls, notepad for mapping, phone and wallet. This should be a good way to decompress and enjoy the afternoon.

That’s until I take 5 steps, drop a ball that bounces under the car, try to get that out and drop the 56 onto the fucking bitumen, twist my other knee and hit my head. Oh fuck me its Groundhog Day.


Into pro shop, introduce myself, ” Hi Best mate, I’m The Shooter” He didn’t seem at all interested that he was in the presence of greatness. His loss, I thought.

Get 20 steps off the first tee and realise I cant walk, my left knee is still fucked and now my right one is on life support. I get a cart to drive around in, drop bushnell, putter falls out of cart. Finally I see the course and have a pie and a beer in the clubhouse. #tourlife.


I get to the course early for my afternoon tee time, have a few putts, go inside register, have a coffee and chill for a while, then the usual media commitments, interview with The Springwood Bugle and sign a few balls and gloves for the kids. #givingback

The good times come to a very fast fucking halt, 1 over through 4, can’t turn through to my left knee, it hurts almost as much as giving Stickers money after losing, although that’s rare, when it does happen it hurts. My knee is so sore I am sure I will need a replacement before the end of the week.


My 6th, hole 11, is where the hills started to take their toll, drive down the right, runs into the tree line, not good this side, flub a 60 off a dusty sandy lie, get up to the trap, oh of fucking course, its embedded and short sided, so so good, out to 40 feet, not bad under the circumstances, then a little 3 wiggle to top it off. Racing to +3, fuck.

Par the next 3 bogey 17 par 18 to turn 4, fuck this is hard. Par 1, after hitting a gap wedge 30 over the back under a tree. Bogey 3 with a little 3 jab, 4 with a fat 6 iron and a shit pitch and finally another bogey on 5, my last trying to hit a low punch wedge under a tree that didn’t quite work either. Just another fucking 78, winner at -2, not even close.


Cant wait for Blackheath tomorrow, hope my knee holds out.


Had to do a mercy dash to Drummond’s in Penrith last night, old mate pro had no putter grips in the shop, fucking rookie, never happen in my day, cant hold onto this putter another day, new grip required. I even said to the lady I could put it on myself if she was too busy. She looked at me with a glint in her eye, I gave her the popped collar, double pistol move, she said “I fucking knew it, The Shooter” Yes, little lady, you are right.

She said she would be happy to watch me put the putter grip on myself,  “I can always learn from a pro, I’ve only been doing it 20 years” she said. Don’t get sassy now I muttered to myself. 20% discount for PGA Shooters, she said as I waved goodbye, her cheeks were flushed and she was a little out of breath.


Got a fucking cart at Blackheath, couldn’t get up and down those fucking hills without one, especially as the knee is going great. Its got better, only feels like 4 knitting needles are going in each time I take a step, should be fine.

Starting on 5, nice little par 3, measuring 138 meters, playing straight into the fucking hurricane, hit a knock down 5 iron punch, told the amateurs it was a 7, straight into the trap, fuck no, who would have thought, embedded. Bogey after misreading the putt and leaving my 20 footer 8 feet right, just as well I got this new grip, its working a fucking treat.


The amateurs I got today were so slow, the grass grew around their feet, fuck me the guy on 25 looked for his ball on every shot, had no idea where anything went and he hit his Driver 175 after running 30. The guy on 16 should have been on 25, he was fucking hopeless. In his defence he was older than the dirt there and he could not hear a fucking word you said, some was because he was old (older the Blisters) and some was because he had hearing aids in that were from 1927.


Bogey 9 to be +2. On to the back 9. These have to be some of the worst golf holes I think I have ever played, on 10, a par 5, you cant hit a shot that doesn’t finish low left because you have a massive hill in front of you, land it on the right side it goes off left. I hit a cut driver that landed above the hill and settled on the left hand side, 8 iron second shot to 10 yards past the green, flub, pitch, hole 4 footer for 5.

11 short dogleg right, worst hole I have ever played, chip 5 iron off the tee, it runs down behind a tree, fucked, the fucking thing went 226 meters, what a shitbox. 12, dogleg right, 4 iron, 227 to the trees. Then you have to hit it between 3 massive conifers to a downhill green, over the back fucked.


Short on the next, fucked, then I get to the fucking 15th, par 3 playing 189 straight into wind, by now I have called it Hurricane Colonoscopy because it’s fucked my whole week, 4 iron, bounce a little right, chip it up to 3 feet, pretty good, amateur is on my line but 2 feet, tells me he will putt first. His goes hard right, misses the hole by 6 inches. What a cock.

I line mine up, little inside the left edge, mine misses by 4 inches, reach over to tap in, miss, fuck, i’ll just tap this fucker in, how embarrassing, miss, YOU FUCKING WHORE is the only thing echoing around the 15th green now. Or as I prefer to call it, the Valley of Lost Hope.


Now I really have the shits, amateur says, “geez that moved more than mine” I said who fucking cares, go faster you old geriatric oxygen thief’ He couldn’t hear me because the wind was only 150 mph by now straight into his 1927 hearing aid.

Birdie 2 of the last 4 to shoot 78 and while I can still claim a win from Blisters, its a hollow victory and a shameful display of my lack of skills.


6 hour drive to Bermagui, only to do all of this again, fuck I hope I can make a decent score soon and my left elbow gets better, right elbow heals, left knee swelling goes down, right knee fluid dissipates, my neck is less stiff and my headache goes away.


Fucked Unit Shooter out.