First things first. With my beloved regular-shafted Titleist 755 clubs back home in beautiful Yorkshire, my opening task had presented itself. A pretty fundamental task at that. Find a set of bats to hit with, Alfie. But not any old set could replace those that I had swung with since I started the game at 14.
Naturally, my first port of call was the new boss’ farming shed. The initial signs from my raid appeared promising as I did indeed discover a selection of bats. Alas, they were of the wrong sport. I didn’t feel too confident at the prospect of opening the face of a cricket bat in an attempt to launch a flighted lob out of a steep-faced Shepparton green side pot!
Unperturbed, the hunt continued. In the far corner, under what could only be described as a red-back spider breeding ground (unfortunately, minus any Taylor Made Spider putters), I found what I was looking for. Standing proudly, if not a little dusty, was my first Regional Australian golf club set: Top Flite 2000 blades. And to accompany them? Only the finest 1982 Ben Hogan Tour Wood paired with a Wilson putter that appeared to have lost some of the magic bestowed upon it by Nick Faldo in the ’89 Masters. Realistically, it was an ensemble with which I’d be ecstatic to break 90.
In the days leading up to my first round I was lucky to find myself a lovely house in Shepparton. This would become my home for the next 6 weeks. Although it wasn’t the house itself that sold me. At the viewing I was greeted by a chap supping pre-mixed tins of rum in his garage. Beside him a beautifully crafted, bespoke BMW golf buggy shining, rightfully, on its own pedestal. Little did we know at this point it was to later resemble more of a 1972 Ford Pinto as we had to be towed around the back 9. Anyway, like many others before him, the chap fell for my friendly Yorkshire charm and I moved in the next day.
My first visit to Shepparton Golf Club was one filled with a great sense of nostalgia. The approach, with its long, vertiginous driveway and single-story charming clubhouse could have very easily been plucked from the rolling hills of Yorkshire. Upon walking through the double doors, I was welcomed with a moving tribute to the great PGA legend Jarrod Lyle. Lyle grew up playing at the club and sadly lost a long, brave battle with Leukaemia exactly two years ago this weekend. Immediately, I knew this was a club of honour, respect & heritage.
With my induction complete, tightest white chinos on and Top Flite’s in hand, I strolled out to the putting green. Sitting dramatically between the undulating 9th green and the 10th tee it was up there with the most scenic starts to a round I’ve experienced. As far as the eye could see, members laughed with one another and bantered about their playing counterpart three-putting the last. All wore their Lyle inspired, yellow Titleist hats with pride.
Quick practice on the lightening quick putting green complete, I made my way to the first tee where I was joined by two local gents. The first, a 65-year old retiree addressing the ball as if he was about to stroke a glorious cover drive past a helpless mid-off. Guaranteed four runs, as I prepared a loud shout of fore, myself. There was absolutely no chance he was landing on the fairway. His opening strike went on to dissect the tree-lined fairway with a gentle draw. This was the start of a round in which he would ultimately shoot 37 points and collect over 200 bucks without breaking a sweat (and somehow his back). I was up next. No pressure Alf! The practice swing felt a tad jaded due to the previous night’s rum intake. In spite of this, for the first time in a long time, I felt that I was right at home. Disaster averted, I managed to catch a small fraction of the Ben Hogan wooden heel and off the ball faded down the left-hand side of the fairway.
One hole down and 2 points scored in the Stableford.
The second hole, which would triumph as the signature hole of many other courses, was a beauty. A 142m par 3 with the flag resting undisturbed beneath a shelf of clouds. The warning from my playing partners: “Avoid being short at all costs”. The fear of spinning a 9 iron off the front edge was placed firmly in my head. A shot like that would be eaten by the Augusta worthy run-off area. I opted for the 8-iron and my cut-off swing sent the ball floating above the canopy before dropping plumb in the heart of the green. This is where I discovered that Shepparton Golf Club played host to some of the most difficult yet consistently quick greens I have ever played. I take my 3-putt bogey, something of which I would become accustomed to, and dash for the par 5 third. Here and in the deep green side pot for three shots, it took a well-executed bunker shot to ensure I walked away with a hit & run par. A bunker shot that was however only made possible by the well maintained, compact and firm sand in the pot itself.
As we continued the round, I bantered about how the once dominant Australian Rugby team was now only of a similar ability to the Socceroos’, to which the local lads gladly retorted. Did I happen to know of the whereabouts of the famous Ashes? Touche’. On each hole I made a point of stopping and appreciating the beauty around me. With a sand underlay, the week’s rain had been absorbed and gave birth to a plethora of flowers, trees and green scenery. Coupled with this, The Goulburn River cascaded alongside the course parameter and occasionally intertwined between holes. This meant that the course played host to a vast array of birds who sang almost in support of each shot. As the remnants of the morning frost glistened in the mid-afternoon sun, Shepparton Golf Course really became a pleasure not only to play but a pleasure to stand in.
And so we came to the most difficult hole on the course, the 10th. A long par 4 that would give Bryson himself a run for his money. It really was here that the beauty of Shepparton Golf Club hit me. Whilst I could not ignore the aforementioned fast greens, the pristinely cut holes or the picturesque Goulburn River backdrop, it was in fact the simple friendliness and human touch of the members that took this experience into a league of its own.
The old chap with whom I was playing sensed that I was once, in a previous life before beer, a solid golfer. On approach to the freshly-rolled 12th green, facing a short putt for birdie (I would go on to make a bogey), he turned to me with a tear in his eye and insisted that I discard the Top Flite clubs and visit his home during the week to collect a spare set standing in the corner of his garage. I felt truly humbled as he proceeded to explain that he had last year bought the set of Cobra irons for his son before he tragically lost his life in a traffic accident. It was the most humbled I’ve felt in my life. Despite being offered such a huge honour, out of respect, my initial decision was to politely refuse. He was however insistent that it would be a privilege to watch the clubs be put to good use.
Sure enough that week, I visited the man’s home and collected the clubs. Docked in a striking white Titleist tour bag, the contrast to the Top Flite’s was stark. Clubs were custom fit to his son last year, the clubs had stiff Dynamic Gold – True Temper shafts. I could not wait to take them for a spin. I left his home, promising to play alongside him again and return the clubs before I returned to New South Wales. With a little added pressure on my game and another impending Saturday competition, I called my good pal Adam Ledger. Ledge is one of the finest teaching professional’s back home at Woburn Golf Club where he is based alongside the likes of PGA Pro Ian Poulter. We jumped online as I hit the range, and from the other side of the world he had me hitting the ball with the sweet spot, once again.
Saturday rolled around. Competition time.
I felt fresh and was raring to go (a little less rum and four coffees will have that affect). My opening strike was a rocket dispatched straight down the middle of the fairway with the new Titleist Driver (albeit with the club’s adjustable weights setup dramatically for a fade in order to counter my reliably awful snap hook). I strategically plotted my way around the course punching 4 irons off of the tee where possible, missing approach shots only below the hole and avoiding the perfectly dense traps. At the end of the day, my name remained at the top of the leaderboard amongst 118 competitors. Excitement flooded in as I began to envisage on what I would spend my undoubtedly fat wedge of cash. To my surprise, it was the competition sponsor, a local farming hardware store, that presented me with my $50 voucher prize. You may laugh, but those x2 jerry cans came in extremely handy for my long, 8 hour drive back to New South Wales.
So, as sorry as I am for the length of this blog, I felt it an injustice to leave out the details. I’d like to personally thank Geoff Hamill and his kind-hearted family for lending me the clubs. I’d also like to thank everybody at Shepparton Golf Club for taking in a cheeky Yorkshire chap as one of their own. The course itself? Truly magnificent. To marginally miss out on the top 50 courses in Victoria seems ridiculous to me. The greens are unmistakably tricky, yet charismatic. The holes themselves cut as sharp as a shark’s smile. The run-off areas present a challenge that ensure your handicap is honest and demands that your short game is Mickelson-esque. Last but not least, the fairways are trim with a seemingly impossible amount of overhanging trees that create beauty for the spectator while commanding accuracy from the player.
On a final note, it seems fitting that on the weekend of the PGA Championship that the last mention goes to Jarrod Lyle. The members talk of Jarrod with passion and a glow that I can only assume Jarrod himself emitted when playing on the Tour. For those of you who may not know, Jarrod was committed to making a difference to children and families living with cancer. To honour him, Jarrod’s Titleist equipment is proudly displayed in the clubhouse with a modesty and class that permeates throughout not only the clubhouse but the aura of the club itself. And as Jarrod’s memory will continue to live on at Shepparton, my time at Shepparton Golf Club has created unexpectedly profound memories that will stay with me for life.
Make a donation in honour of Jarrod here: https://www.challenge.org.au/program/jarrods-gift/
one man & his clubs. 