mashieblog-blog

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Golf in the colonies

Golf is a wonderful sport indeed. But one of its criticisms might be that it is not quite as edgy as, say, Turkish wrestling, rugger, snooker or dwarf throwing. One rarely sees golfers coming down the stretch with blood pouring down their foreheads or attempting a swipe at the ball with a broken leg. It is, to be frank, a rather sedate sport. Like bowls but less fashionable.

Now, those of us of a certain vintage, positively welcome this old fashioned conduct. But Mashie Blog does not live in the past. It understands that sport has to move on. There are many ways we could give golf that little bit of spice, but it seems to me that one of the most obvious is to play more of our golf in Australasia. 

Why do I say this? Principally because the odds of one's surviving a round on the links in Australia are far less rosy than they are in almost any other part of the world, with the possible exception of North Korea. If one was smoking dollar bills and making a pass at Kim Jong Un's daughter.

Imagine the televisual drama of seeing Keegan Bradley boxed by a 8ft tall kangaroo? The tension of watching Master Furyk thrash around, looking for his Titleist in brown snake infested undergrowth. The gladitorial joy of watching Bubba Watson dragged into the creek by a croc? 

Mashie Blog will be experiencing all these joys next week, as he tackles the links around Brisbane in preparation for the new season at Royal Chipping Bilbury. Regular updates will follow. Until then, toodle pip.

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Nancy Reagan

Watching Master Rory stride off the golf course did rather grate one's nerves. Not simply because Old Tom would be turning in his grave at such conduct, but rather more because of the whole unfairness of it all. If Mashie Blog were to leave his corner office and walk out for a stiff G&T at the club after just 30 minutes at his desk, one rather thinks there would be a stern word or two.

Still, let him without sin cast the first stone and all that. How many of us haven't felt at some point like departing the links, hurling one's golf bag into the nearest pond and blowing one's wisdom tooth off with the 12 bore? 

In other news, Mashie Blog has had his interview at Royal Chipping Bilbury. They were splendid fellows and, without wishing to toot one's own horn, I think it is reasonable to say they thought I was a pretty decent sort too. Quite how the other chaps will have done I don't know. One can only hope. 

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Golf fashion - time for a radical change

There are times when one can do nothing other than marvel at the heroic proportions of tournament professionals. Gods amongst men. The names trip off the tongue: Brad Fritcsh, Darren Clarke, Mark Calcaveccia, John Daly. All men who could be on the catwalk if they weren't on the golf course. 

So, Mashie Blog finds nothing more irritating than those awful pip squeeks who snort about golf 'not being a sport' or claim its participants are more interested in stuffing their faces with a jam roly-poly than stuffing their opponents on the links. Every sport has one or two chaps in it who enjoy their nose-bag, Master Rooney is a man of comfortable proportions yet we don't hear snide comments about football players do we? Why are golfers bracketed in the league of dart players?

Mashie Blog has been thinking hard about this. How do we show the world pro-golfers are indeed athletes. The answer is startlingly obvious - require tournament professionals to wear spandex. Something akin to the outfits we see downhill skiers sporting. Imagine, if you will, Master Tiger Woods bending over to line up a putt in lycra. It would be a sight to behold. No distractions, no chaffing, no clothes flapping in the wind. Even better, if one has sponsors, the logo could still be prominently displayed. The Nike swoosh, for example, could be flipped around, depending on which direction a gentlemen dresses. Collars, of course, must remain.

I, for one, believe this could do much to dispel the myth that golfers are lazy, fat and poorly dressed. We might even consider asking pros (including those on the senior and ladies' tours) to do squat thrusts before every shot to prove their health. It would do much to add to the spectacle of golf.

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With pheasant season now behind us, it is time to turn our attention once more to golf. Many of the big name golf club manufacturers - Archie Earl, Charles Spinks, Cuthbert Butchart, Donald Ross - have been busy over the winter, so Mashie Blog thought it would be useful to show readers 'What's in the Bag' of Master Bubba Watson for the coming season. As one can see, Watson is using golf clubs at the very cutting edge of technology. Precision sanded bafflers, with a high MOI thanks to brass weighting at the bottom, alongside the finest, hickory shafted rutting iron, made from pure wrought iron. They look so easy to hit, one wonders how much further golf equipment could possibly go?    

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Freaks of nature

If long putters joined the circus, they would be the unnatural bearded ladies. Not the fearless tamer who puts his head in the lion's jaw. Nor the noble human cannonball, who arcs across the sky with grace, drawing gasps of astonishment. The lip-stick smeared doxy. A ghastly, grisly spectacle we look at through closed fingers from behind the (Le Corbusier) chaise longue. They are the mole rats of golf equipment.

So, why do I admire their users so greatly? Because it takes great bravery to wield such a hideous sporting instrument. Not since Sir Nicholas Faldo stepped out on the links sporting pink Pringle tweed with a triangular golfer stiched into its fabric, has such courage been shown in sport. I say give young Keegan Bradley - as irritating as he is - a purple heart. Give Master Vijay Singh a lifetime's supply of deer antlers. Give Ernie Els whatever passes for an honour in South Africa. These men are bally heroes.

Of course, one has to wonder whether they are strictly fair. But that is neither here nor there. Irrespective of which, it appears the R&A and USPGA are too lacking in vertebrae to make a decision on their own - getting the collywobbles and opening it up to a 'consultation'. Worryingly, this includes picking the brains of tournament professionals - which is rather like trying to catch a trout in a puddle. Master Webb Simpson proves Mashie Blog's point by making the following argument for keeping long putters:

'Just because some of us are winning majors or tournaments with the belly putter, I don’t think that’s a good reason to say, ‘Hey, we’re going to take them away.’ Which is not actually an argument at all when one thinks about it, it is simply words ordered into a sentence. Of sorts. 

In other news, our interviews for membership at Royal Chipping Bilbury are now underway. Dickie Templeton and Gussy Bellman have already passed with flying colours, as I suspected. Neither mentioned their tendency to wrap their bafflers around the nearest tree after hitting bad shots.

Mrs Miggins is now serving breakfast (kippers) for myself and Mrs Mashie Blog, so I will draw these musings to a conclusion. I'm off to practice today in an effort to rid myself of a rather destructive slice, I'm hoping to take some inspiration from the 'slicefixer'.

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Knickerbockers

Watching Master Kucher play golf is like watching Mrs Miggins clean my knickerbockers in the scullery. One has to admire the professionalism, but it is hardly absorbing. Indeed, more than once I found myself drifting off in front of the wireless during the final of last night's World Matchplay. I'm not quite sure, in all honesty, whether the matchplay format makes for a very engrossing experience, particularly when one of its main participants - Master Mahan - takes so long to play a shot I quite began to wonder whether he had fallen asleep over the ball. Let us hope that some semblance of sanity is restored as we head towards the big tournament of the year, the Open Championship. By which, of course, I mean THE Open Championship, not that rather amateurish affair in the United States of America.

Monty, I thought, came across terribly well over the airwaves, though he does appear to be  loosening out a little around the waist. They say the wireless adds a few pounds to the appearance, but I'm not sure they add 50. He becomes more like Peter Alliss everyday and I strongly imagine he will need to be winched into the commentary chair before long. Still, he was a fine professional and I find myself warming to him more than during his playing days. Perhaps he is mellowing with age, like the rather fine Glenlivet 50 year old I enjoyed last night in the library.

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Mashie Blog is keen to bring its readers the latest fashions being sported out on the links. Today, two absolute belters. In the top picture, the gentleman is wearing a magnificent pair of tweed breeks in lovat green from McDunne Boggle & Sons on the Isle of Harris. The gentleman below is wearing a brown twillet single breasted jacket, with bag knickerbockers. Fabulous.

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Interview for new links

If current form is anything to go by, young Master McIlroy appears to be spending more time trying to work out how to spell his girlfriend's name - Wozniaky, Wasnicky, Wozniacki - than practicing with his new golf bats. But one can never fail to be astonished by the skill these chaps display on the links. To see Nicolas Colsaerts whack his brassie fully 314 yards is frankly depressing - particularly when Mashie Blog struggles to hit it past the 230 yard post. Of course, when you swing the club like Jim Furyk and hit it like Caroline Wznichic Ozniachi Wozniacki, you are unlikely to win the longest drive trophy.

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