The body unfolds slowly from 23 hours of sitting in an airplane, but the Bear firmly believes he can tee off without a trip to the practice range of even a practice swing ! A herd of Impala (South African antelope type animals), grazing peacefully in the presumed safety of the shade of the ladies’ tee box, bore the brunt of this arrogance. Fortunately not in the head, but one of them will have a bruised rump for sure ………
The boys are jet-lagged and stiff but we are with family on one of South Africa’s oldest and most challenging oceanside courses overlooking crashing waves and teeming with wildlife and the golf is not necessarily the focus. We’ve forgotten the range finders. I estimate distance and Rob is not overly trusting of my estimates and still less of my conversions from meters to yards. On semi-rough with a downhill lie that needs to fly across a bunker to an elevated green Rob sets up with a sand wedge.
I’m talking through his set up quite convinced that he should be playing a pitching wedge as opposed to the sand he is swinging. Of course he hits it regardless. My dad roars with laughter : I’m getting the real Mom on the Bag experience – you were totally talking on his backswing !!!!
