Golf and All

While in Service, it is imperative that you learn golf, as early as possible. Say, as a Captain. The later you pick up, you lose the lustre. So it is almost mandatory. There are a few reasons. Let me see whether I can list some.

1.        It is an imperious game.  And you are an Army Officer, right? Army is a generic term to include Navy and Air Force. Like ‘man’ includes ‘woman’, notwithstanding feminists deriding me as a misogynist. Have you seen the gait of golfers (alas, though only) in the golf course? Right royal imperious!

2.        Once you pick up a little bit – a wee bit is enough, you will come into the radar of the General and find yourself playing with him. You will be in his foursome. A strapping young lad who would even be termed as smart and capable, even in uniform!

3.        Once you are in the General’s foursome, you have outsmarted your CO, the Commanding Officer. The CO cannot dictate terms to you. To the uninitiated into the lie (this word lie is important in golf too) of things, you see, the CO is your almighty and his almighty is the General! Now you get the drift.

4.        You will be in the circle of the General, not only for Golf but also for his personal social functions too! Just imagine that. You are the General’s buddy. You have now, arrived. And no one can take ‘panga’ (what’s the English word for it? ‘Chances’? Doesn’t even come close. Anyway, not to digress, of which I have been accused enough) with you. You will find other seniors even cosying up to you.

That much is enough. I have no intention of making this into coaching article and for good measure taking my video, golfing in salubrious surroundings and impart lessons. You must remember this is a blog. So this is about my tryst with the game.

We in the Army, being land forces, find golf courses in almost at every cantonment. I can’t say that about the Navy and Air Force guys much. They seem to spend most of their time on the sea and air, respectively. The golf course may be what is called the ‘greens’ or the ‘browns’. I know I got you there. But remember this is not a golf lesson. After salivating in a few cantonments, I decided to take the plunge once when I was a senior enough Capt. Till then I could not imagine taking time off my commitments to the Army, which I thought rested solely on my responsible shoulders, and while away time swinging some clubs, in the afternoons when I had so much work. I could not let the Army crumble.

I was the Adjutant in that Battalion, when I took the plunge. If I say that it is an important post, I would not be bragging as very many have held that post and so have their own bragging rights. My CO started his golf there! Rather late in his life, poor man. And as the Adjt , short for Adjutant, I have to be in the office before he comes and can leave only after he leaves. And invariably, the Adjt’s office is adjacent to the CO’s. He will want you every now and then. But why am I saying all this redundant stuff?

One day I gathered courage and told the CO about my desire to pick up golf. He said “why not?”Now at this juncture I must tell you, one of the etiquettes of golf is that as a beginner either you start before everyone else or you start last. That is either you ‘tee off’ first or last. If you go last, it may become dark before you reach anywhere. So I wanted to tee off first. That means I had to wait till the CO left the office, run home, have two phulkas, daal and cabbage subji, some water and run to the golf hut, grab the couple of irons kept there for beginners like me and tee off. Or so I thought. But then there was this senior caddie-cum-coach. He wouldn’t let you go on the course! That is etiquette, the first one in golf. You got to learn to swing the club first.

Now, there was this burly Khalsa, a Major from the neighbouring Unit. Like my CO, he was another johnny-come-lately into golf. It so happened that it was his first day too. The coach, I won’t call him caddie any more due to the respect due to him, told us to grab an iron from the hut. I picked up one which happened to be a 7 iron, he picked a 5 iron and we went sheepishly to the coach. He caught hold of us and then began the ordeal. The hold, the stance, the slightly bend knees, head down and steady and so on and so forth. No golf ball at all. And swing! To get the back swing and the follow through right, he caught hold of our hands and pulled them backwards and backwards and backwards. No problem for me. He told us to keep at it with more pushes for the back swing and pulls for the follow through. The pull-push effect (I had learnt about that in my electronic course), was so much that I never knew that my hands could go so much back or that my shoulders had so much extra space in their sockets. Except for that discovery, I must brag that I did not find it unbearable, due to my grandfather making my body quite supple by the time I was 12. And this push-pull was happening after another almost one score and two years!

Next day again dutifully we both, the Khalsa and I, found ourselves at the golf hut. He was looking a bit dishevelled, over all. It seems his body was paining like mad, the way the coach pulled him into angles which he could never imagine. He thought he had been a good hockey player and therefore golf should be a natural progression. Like from swinging the sticks to swinging the clubs! His second day’s appearance was with only half a mind to continue. But then being sportsman, he knew that he had been inactive for long and that the body pain would not last long and so decided to go through the ordeal, which he thought would be over in a day or two. He thought he would be able to be on the course soon after that. I found it a bit amusing to see such a huge burly Khalsa in all that bodily discomfort. More so, because I was not experiencing any such pain. I knew I was a natural, especially when the coach appreciated my swings!

To cut the story short, after about a week of swinging the irons (we were not yet allowed to touch the Drivers), we were allowed on the course. We both found our own foursomes. My CO was magnanimous (though a beginner himself) to take me along with him. And my golfing adventure began. I became a member of the golf club and was given a card with the handicap of 24. I suppose there is no provision to give a 36 or 72 handicap! Since I was with the CO, a Colonel, I could slightly relax in the sense, instead of having to tee off first, could tee off whenever he did. After all I was in his team. That is the privilege of being CO’s right hand man. Imagine when you become the right hand man of the General.

One day, another Colonel and his team were waiting for me to tee off for a particular hole. I was adjusting my stance by moving my hips left and right, by getting my toes to point towards the ball correctly, by adjusting my knee to the correct bend, was adjusting my wrists and fingers for the correct grip, was taking practice swings to see the ball is hit without a slice or a hook to carry it straight and as far away in to the fairway and so on trying to follow the instructions given by the coach. This Colonel, who was a friend as we had served together a few years ago, got tired of my nakhras (fuss is the English for this I suppose). He shouted: “Rajendran, just get behind the ball and hit hard”.

That was a lesson not only for my golf. I found it very useful in all walks of my life. Somehow that shout got deep into my head. Just get behind the ball and hit hard, whenever you got to do something. No need for fancy frills. A lesson for life!

Though each day I had to have that quick ‘bite’ of a lunch and run to the golf course, foregoing my beloved afternoon siesta which I had learned to luxuriate in, I was enjoying the golfing. Moving away when the “fore” calls came, listening to the cribs and comments and having the tea and snacks after the round of nine holes, were are all fun till that day. That day, the ball was in the fairway, which was more like the rough, in not a very good lie and I took six swings without touching the ball, but cutting grass.

And that ended my golf.

Now you may wonder why the title of this blog has “...and all”. That’s just me, or I, if you prefer, all in all!