Tom is home from his Oscar duties and being rained off, we couldn’t play golf today, so we headed to the range instead.
A funny thing, the passing of time and how our roles in life change…
Since he was a young boy, I have been keen for him to play decent golf. Readers of Eclipsed will know that golf is the one area of life where I have been ambitious for my boys. As such, I invested a lot of time and energy in to teaching him the hardest game of them all. And so I should be proud that he can now beat me up on the golf course every bit as much as he can in the show biz arena?
Well, yes, I suppose I am, but only to a point…
…which turns out to be when pupil becomes teacher and I find myself receiving a golf lesson that I have never asked for – as happened today.
I shouldn’t be too proud not to listen. After all, he makes a compelling case; my ball taking a bounce or two before hitting the back fence and his ball smashing in to it on the full.
After numerous attempts, Tom grabs my club and announces that my driver is not adequate and that he will buy me a new one.
Tempting and generous but I resist. I like my driver, albeit it doesn’t serve me so well these days.
Tom examines the head (as if he knows what he’s looking for).
‘It’s got pink writing’, he exclaims.
True enough because it is a women’s club. I bought it many moons ago from a pro who felt that it might suit me. And it did for a while until every shot started to balloon to the right.
My swing speed was measured and sure enough, I was too strong for the female shaft and rather than buy a new club, I had it changed for a stiffer – dare-I-say-it, a more male shaft!
So now my club has a special place in my heart and it always make me smile, whether or not I am on the fairway.
Some of you will have figured out already why this is. My cleverer or more astute readers perhaps?
Others will not have a clue and for them, I explain it now and I apologise also for any offence caused in these such sensitive times…
…It is a women’s head on a man’s shaft.