billyg
Q-School Graduate
Weve all had them -knocking one pin-high across the water at Augusta, being in the team photo of (yet another) jubilant Rider cup photo, lifting the 1st team cup at the local club competition, watching the little mewling bleeder in Nike Ferrari Air-Tech-Pro squash trainers belt 'imself in the cranium with a driver on the first tee in front of a crowded clubhouse on a saturday lunchtime etc... you know the sort of thing.
Seriously though, what's the best we can hope for? as weekend daisy cutters, aspirants, intermediates, failed pro's, could-have-beens, (dare I say it) staff writers for golfing periodicals at a what point do we say 'yep, this is as good as it gets- i'll look back on this as the benchmark- this is what it's all about'?
For me it's spending a week in somewhere like Arizona in a nice friendly hotel with my good lady playing (half decent) golf amongst the dunes and cacti, watching the sunset over a good meal on a balmy veranda with a drink and a nice, slow burning cigar.
The wonder of this sort of dream is that it's not impossible- one day.
Lets face it - there's more chance of Faldo giving me the call than Johnny Twitward managing to direct 35 ounces of cold, hard tungsten across his empty noggin with clinical precision-however much I wish it.
Seriously though, what's the best we can hope for? as weekend daisy cutters, aspirants, intermediates, failed pro's, could-have-beens, (dare I say it) staff writers for golfing periodicals at a what point do we say 'yep, this is as good as it gets- i'll look back on this as the benchmark- this is what it's all about'?
For me it's spending a week in somewhere like Arizona in a nice friendly hotel with my good lady playing (half decent) golf amongst the dunes and cacti, watching the sunset over a good meal on a balmy veranda with a drink and a nice, slow burning cigar.
The wonder of this sort of dream is that it's not impossible- one day.
Lets face it - there's more chance of Faldo giving me the call than Johnny Twitward managing to direct 35 ounces of cold, hard tungsten across his empty noggin with clinical precision-however much I wish it.
