Fresh from the trunk slam missed cut in The NSW Open and full of enthusiasm for the next leg of the Major road trip, The Shooter lands in Sydney, out to Coogee for a night then to the airport to pick up the caddie of the year, The Brophs. Last week a good looper saves me 6, let’s hope this week we are on a winner.
Driving out west, it’s 10:30am and the road is melting already, fuck it’s hot out here. Arrive at the motel, home for the week, oh fuck, this may have been an error, syringe in the car park, that’s not a good sign. It didn’t get much better inside. “What is that fucking smell”
Out to the course, have the usual ice breaking pro to pro conversations with the pro shop, grab a pull cart and we are off, bushnell, yardage, bunker cover, pin position, false front and playing line are words and phrases that were used in abundance that afternoon. The vibe is good, the team is back together and we are pumped for the start of the second Senior Tour Major.
7:50 tee time, arrive at the driving range down the road, hit half an ice cream container of balls, at least I thought they were balls, some looked suspiciously like rocks, my 7 iron face looked a bit caved in. Off to the course and the putting green, we chipped and putted yesterday for an hour or so in that beautiful Western Sydney heat, surrounded by the enticing aroma of the sewerage treatment works, so so good.
First tee, ladies and a gentlemen, The Shooter. Few claps, hat tip, and away we go, flush the driver, little right, just in the tree line, “shot Shooter” was the call from the playing partners. First putt comes up an inch short for birdie. Even par through 3. Hit one right on 4, chip out, leave par putt 2 inches short. Bogey next after a hard hook chip out, flub chip 8 feet, then another flub chip 12 feet short but hole the putt. Bogey.
Miss next fairway left again, the shit farm smell is starting to get stuck on my driver, “of course I can hit a hard hooking 5 wood out of this rough, around a tree, 218 to the smallest green in the world Broph’s, fuck me you have been away too long” Wow, I didn’t expect that, how could that not work. Another in the right trees and then another in the left trees up 9. Pitch out to 60 mtrs, miss green, chip 12 ft short, 2 putt for double, fuck this isn’t what I expected.
Get to 10, had enough of playing poorly, I asked the Broph’s if he packed the scuba gear, he asked why, I said “we are going deep”, he called me a cock and walked away. Even par through 14 for the back, fuck me, it’s pumping, “Shoooooot” is the call from the galleries, they know shit is going down.
15, Par 3 smash it over the back, flub a chip out of long grass, chip it close, bogey, fuck, it’s ok, it’s only 1. Hit a driver down the left of the next par 5, “I think I can almost get home” is the ambitious call, fuck me, not if you hit it 50 meters right into the fucking trees you can’t get home you fucking cock, knife 9 iron over the back, flub chip, chip it to 12 feet, miss it make double. Fuck you stupid chipping fucking stick.
The Shooter is now a shot fucking duck, dead in the fucking water. Birdie 17, par 18 for a soul destroying 78. Fuck this is depressing. The highlight for the day was Blisters shooting 80. Fuck my life. I’ve got another round to go.
Embarrassed Shooter out.