My Funniest Moments on The Golf Course

I keep droning on about it I know, but golf is meant to be fun. You would be hard-pressed to believe that if you watched the antics of most leading professionals and many club golfers.

I enjoy this sport and relish every opportunity I get to play it. And I have witnessed some very funny and some scarcely-credible incidents on golf courses.

Here are just a few of them:

Vanishing Act I

This is the incident that prompted this article. When a senior golfer spots a golf ball he simply has to have it, no matter where it lies. I was recently playing at my home club, Dunston Hall, and came to the 16th, a tough par four with a green guarded by a large lake. As we waited to play our second shots one of the group in front of us spotted a ball in the water. Out came his ball retriever. What he hadn’t realised was that as he had removed his retriever he had caught the on/off button on his electric trolley. As it overtook him and headed for the lake he realised what was happening. Too late! They both ended up in the drink!

Vanishing Act II

This is a classic. My late stepfather was what can best be described as a canny Scot. He was a man who looked after every penny (the sort of individual who gives the rest of us a bad name). He would use a golf ball until it was literally no longer fit for purpose. We were playing in a fourball at Colne Valley in Essex on a hot summer’s day. But in the run-up there had been a lot of rain and it was pretty wet underfoot. We came to a hole with water on the left. Dad flirted with the hazard but managed to avoid hitting his ball into the water. However, before he played his shot he looked to his left and saw several balls in the water. Out came his ball retriever. There was a steep bank down to the water. I knew it would be slippy and warned him to be careful. Too late! One minute he was there, the next he had vanished. He lost his footing, slipped down the bank and tumbled into the water. As we ran over he emerged, dripping wet but with four golf balls in his hands. And instead of heading back to the clubhouse he insisted upon playing on! His only words on the subject? "Don’t tell your mother."

Going Backwards

I used to play on a regular basis with a work colleague who was several years older than me. To say he was an inconsistent player would be to understate things. He will also feature in another tale in this collection but I am going to start with a tee shot. We were playing at a course called Waldringfield in Suffolk. Sadly, it has long since been closed because new owners believed it would be a good idea to build houses on it. I digress. We were on the tee at the second, a par five with out of bounds down the right and rough and gorse bushes on the left. I struck a perfect drive, straight down the middle. Peter then walked up to the tee, put his ball down and took a swing. The ball screamed forward, about two inches from the ground, hit the ladies tee marker, bounced back and caught Peter slap bang in his Crown Jewels. 

Ground Force

This is my second Peter story. We were playing at Rushmere GC on the outskirts of Ipswich and came to the par three eighth hole. It is a hole where you can’t see the bottom of the flag. Peter hit an absolute shocker that rolled along the ground, up the bank in front of the green. There is a lot of trouble behind the putting surface and we walked up and couldn’t see his ball. We assumed it had flown through into the rubbish. We spent some time looking for it, without success. He declared his ball lost. I then putted out and as I went to retrieve my ball from the hole, guess what I found? Peter’s ball. But as he had declared it lost, I claimed the hole. Let’s just say that his language was colourful, especially when I walked into the clubhouse at the end of our round and told everybody the drinks were on him!

Wheel of Misfortune

I didn’t see the funny side of this one at the time, but my playing partners definitely did. I was playing in a society day at Barnham Broom in Norfolk. We came to a par three where you had to hit your tee shot over trees, meaning you could not see the ball finish. I hit what I thought was the perfect shot. We headed to the green and my ball was nowhere to be seen. Behind the putting surface was a fast-flowing stream and I was just about to declare that my ball must have cleared the green and ended up in the water when one of my playing partners suggested looking in the hole - and there was my golf ball! To say I was excited is an understatement as not only had I recorded my fourth hole in one but I had done so on the nearest-the-pin hole. To get to the next tee we had to cross a bridge. I wasn’t concentrating properly and my trolley caught the edge of the bridge - I managed to prevent it falling into aforementioned stream, but not before one of my wheels had come loose, fallen into the water and disappeared downstream!

Dream Time

Another society and a story of a missing golfer. A group of 24 of us went for an overnight golf break at a course near Cambridge. We duly played our round on the Sunday, headed to the bar for a few drinks, had dinner and then headed back to the bar. At some point in the proceedings we realised that one of our number was missing. We thought he may have sneaked away to his room. Not a bit of it - we found him fast asleep in the gents toilet, wrapped around a urinal! I should point out that said individual was the first man down for breakfast the following morning.

Bad Bounce

The same society but a different comedy of errors. It is fair to say that the golfing ability of said society was and is pretty mixed. For most of the guys who turn up it is the only golf they play all year. These breaks are all about the social aspect - and we do have a lot of laughs. So on this occasion one of our number had a shot with the ball below his feet. He was playing with somebody who was using a buggy. He hit the ball, shanked it, it hit the frame of the buggy, rebounded and caught him flush between the eyes, right in the middle of his forehead. Thankfully, he did not seem to be badly hurt and there was much hilarity. Word soon spread around the course. By the time he reached the sanctuary of the clubhouse he sporting two magnificent black eyes! Safe to say that he has never been allowed to live it down.

Tartan Terror

Yes, you’ve guessed it - the same society yet again. This time we were at Stoke by Nayland in Suffolk. On the Sunday we played the Constable Course. The opening hole is a daunting par four that calls for a well-struck drive over water. Our format was to play in two teams - Old Gits v Young Gits. Our Young Gits team was captained by an Australian sports journalist called Glen. None of us had ever seen him play but he always talked a good game. Before we were due to start teeing off, Glen disappeared and told us he would see us on the first tee. He re-emerged wearing a pair of tartan plus-fours and a tartan polo short and tartan cap. We all fell about laughing. And we laughed some more when we saw his practice swing. He then put a ball on the tee, swung at it, the ball moved two feet and we all saw something flying through the air and plummeting into the lake - his driver!

Tree Iron

Same society, same trip! On the Sunday night we held a charity auction with a brand new set of Cleveland irons up for grabs. The young man who won them was genuinely thrilled. On the Monday morning we played Stoke by Nayland’s Gainsborough course and he appeared on the tee armed with his new clubs. He sliced his opening drive into the trees and then reached for a five iron - a brand new club he had never used before. And without taking a practice swing he stood over the ball and let loose - only for the shaft to strike a tree trunk on his follow through and snap clean in two!

Missing in Action

One of the things you have to accept with society golf is that it takes time. You can forget three-hour rounds. Four hours? Not a chance. The absolute minimum is five hours - and sometimes a lot longer than that. This story involves a golf weekend in Sussex. On the second day we would always play head-to-head singles. When sorting out the order of play I was always mindful of skill sets and would ensure that the highest handicappers would go out last. Most of us had finished and with one game still out on the course the result was already clear. We waited for the final game. And we waited. And we waited. They had been out there for SIX hours and were still nowhere in sight. So all of us headed for our cars and drove home. For all I know, they might very well still be out there!

Going Nowhere Fast

I organised a golf trip to France. We arranged to meet in a car park. I had given everybody a check list. Following it was not rocket science. So we all get to the car park on time, which was the first surprise. 

I then asked if everybody had remembered their clubs? Check.

Luggage? Check. 

Passports? "Oh s**t! I have left if on the bloody kitchen table." 

"Well you will not be coming to France with the rest of us."

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