Worst mishap out on the course.

Just occasionally a round doesn't quite go to plan. I've got a couple of mishaps that stand out in the memory banks. The first one could have turned out really bad but in reality we got away with it. I was a passenger in a buggy that clipped a kerb. The buggy flipped onto my side, slid down a concrete path onto a bridge smashing my driver. I got to ride in a Spanish ambulance. Thankfully, apart from cuts and bruises, no real damage.

But the really good one; playing in the 3rd round of a comp up in Scotland I'm 2pts behind the leader as we both tee off on the par 5 16th. He hits relatively short down the middle but I stick mine down the right, about 4" from a dry stone wall running parallel with the hole. Do I knock it out into the middle about wedge distance from the green or do I pull out the 5 wood and go for the green? Go on you big girl, go for it!

I make solid contact with the ball, and as my head comes up SMACK, it hits me just above the right eye. The ball bounces off my head OOB, and I spend 5 mins talking to the pixies. When I come round I drop a ball and finish the round, badly.

I finish the round with the mother and father of all headaches, and go into the bar for a beer. Two steps into the bar I pass out and face plant the floor. An ambulance is called and I get put in the back BUT the ambulance won't start. As there's only one ambulance on the island its a call to the local Police and the stretcher ends up in the back of a meat wagon for the trip down to the hospital. Hospital in this case turns out to be about the size of a small garden shed, and the Doc is used to dealing with the odd cut and sprain.

The Doc decides this is something he can't deal with and a call is made to the harbour to stop the ferry from sailing till they can get me down there. Queue the repaired ambulance... oh no! I'm in the back of said ambulance in the hospital yard whilst it does the whirrr whirrr noise of a dead ambulance.

And back in the meatwagon and down to the ferry for a trip to the mainland, and onto Glasgow.

After a couple of nights in a proper hospital I make it home but does the week of pain end there? Oh no it doesn't. The following weekend I decide to play, and as I leave the 12th tee there is a shout of FORE from the 11th tee. The ball took one bounce before trapping my right bo!!ock against my thigh, and I go down like I've been hit by a Jap sniper.

And from that day the guys nicknamed me Lucky.... not sure that's strictly accurate.

What's your worst mishap out there?

No offence Brian, but can you let us know if you're hoping to attend any Golfshake events?  Might just give it a miss if you do...

Oh Tim, I'm so hurt...

Anyway, having fractured my skull twice and broken my neck once playing rugby I consider myself very Lucky to be here.... you're taking the wrong slant on it matey.

Oh, and did I tell about the time I fell asleep on my motorbike... a story for another day.

   Brian, great post, had me in stitches.....

Unlike Tim i would love to play with you at a golfshake event.

Not only would i be almost guaranteed a good laugh at some point, if anything bad were to happen to would happen to you not me !! ( no offence meant )

Great post.

Good point Tim, didn't think of that....

Anyway, me and the lads are on a ride out across the Pennines near Alston. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz sleep perfect sleep, the next thing I know is the bike is bouncing across a, potholed, hotel carpark. In front me is the annual Darby & Joan club coach off loading a multitude of gaggling coffin dodgers.

Mmm, choices choices. Do I hit the coach? Do I give them a prolonged blast on the horn in the hope of a gap in the gaggle or do I lay the bike down like a fighter pilot staying with his aircraft making sure it misses the school playground full of kids?

Being hugely indesicive I opt for a mixture of all options. With the thumb on the horn I aim for the old ladies but stay with my Mk II Hurricane. Luck was with me.... of a fashion... and a gap opens. I scoot through the gap with a vivid picture of the whites of their eyes. Safety beckons but just as I think I can relax I realise that there is a low wall and a 20' drop at the end of the carpark.

Time for a sharp exit. I lock the back brake and start to lay the bike down speedway style. I am a God! Oops, maybe not! The bike throws me off like the bed in The Exorcist. And I perform a perfect roll before landing awkwardly on my right ankle - broken.

The Russian judge awarded 4.9 but deducted points for the landing.

Maybe one day I'll tell you of the day me and the lads ordered a round of drinks in one pub but transported that round to another pub................................... on our motorbikes, and didn't lose a drop.