A Slice of Life: A 'twinge' no excuse to call it a day

Published on Sunday 1 March 2009 21:46

THERE must have been a few heartless grunts in the golf clubs when Luke Donald conceded his match against Ernie Els in the WGC-Accenture Match Play Championship in Arizona last week. Donald, who'd undergone surgery on his left wrist last year, reported he'd felt a twinge when taking a practice swing on the 18th tee and decided to call it a day.

Of course, it's all relative and Donald is playing golf for a living, but I feel compelled to report that every time I take a practice swing, I am beset by twinges.

Indeed, I don't need to take a practice swing to bring on a twinge. Twinges can come at me from all angles before I even reach the first tee and it's usually downhill after that. There's nothing consistent about my twinges and the ones which home in during the round needn't be the ones with which I set out. For instance, one of the regular pains occurs in the angle of thumb and forefinger of the right hand, but, while that one tends to kick in early, it generally goes away after a hole or two, when it's likely to be replaced by a pain in the foot, perhaps, or the knee, or the back – or anywhere.

Unlike Luke Donald, club golfers don't get paid for turning up and, as a result, they don't walk in unless things are pretty bad. This is largely because, as in my own case, they often play in sweeps and even if someone is reduced by injury or general frailty to crawling off the course, he will be approached and ruthlessly divested of his 1 stake money and any other sums which might have accrued as a result of side-bets struck up during play. Paramedics are permitted to go to the aid of stricken golfers once playing partners are agreed that the financial aspects of the round have been settled to everyone's satisfaction.

A small, short-tempered priest with whom I played occasionally over the old championship links at Musselburgh and who has featured in this column before, used give a howl, a sort of piercing "neeagh" sound every time he swung and got it wrong, which was fairly often. In my innocence, I reckoned it was just his way of not actually giving tongue to an oath or some coarse term which might have been deemed unseemly in a man of the cloth. One day, however, he told me he had a dodgy hip which, when put under strain, gave him "gyp," if that's how you spell it. Whatever "gyp" is, it caused him such agony that a quick "neeagh" was the only means of relief.

All this seems light years away from Rory McIlroy, who, at the tender age of 19, probably doesn't even know he has hips. Would that such flexibility could last a lifetime. Looking at the Irish prodigy flowing through the ball, you wouldn't think he had a bone in his body. He's a true creature of his time and it is interesting to note that he seems to be developing a Tiger-like flourish of the right foot at the conclusion of his more monstrous drives. Tiger Woods is a heaven-sent role model and if he has provided the inspiration for the new wave, it could be that he has paved the way for his own eventual undoing.

If there's any inspiration left over, poor Sean O'Hair could be doing with some. The American had one of those days against Paul O'Casey in the quarter-finals, a day when he could count himself lucky he managed to get up in the morning without breaking his neck. If there's any consolation for him, it is in the knowledge that while the lapse came as something of a shock for him, it's the kind of thing that is dished out to a lot of others on a daily basis.

In common with Phil Mickelson, O'Hair seems to go in for lengthy debates with his caddie. On one occasion, the microphones picked up a snatch of conversation in which the caddie urged his man to take into consideration, "the double adjustment." It wasn't clear what the double adjustment was, though it probably had something to do with the nerve-jangling greens on the new Jack Nicklaus course. Whatever it meant, the gut feeling was that double adjustments would be as well left alone. Certainly, given O'Hair's state that awful day, one adjustment at a time would seem to be quite enough to cope with.

In the department of helpful hints, Butch Harmon and the boys in the commentary box advised us to work on our weaknesses. "Find out what your weaknesses are and turn them to your advantage," seemed to be the gist. It has to be admitted there's no lack of material here. Weaknesses are something of a speciality in this neck of the woods and, if the truth be told, I'm something of a weakness hoarder myself and I've got a million. As a right-hander, what I'd want to know is, how, short of taking up a stance facing due left along a line at right angles to the line to the hole, do you set about turning a shank to your advantage?