The Matches Resume

Dates with the Captain and deep tissue wounds may have delayed things, but as sure as taxes and the mail is the inevitable resumption of hostilities.  Though, alas, accommodations were required...  My shin splint (singular, left shin only) is still quite painful, and with the hope of playing three more rounds I needed to be careful.  Accordingly, I was obligated to do the unthinkable, to pay any price, bear any burden as it were, and rent a buggy.  Walking the course is a first principal for me, and I recount these events with a deep sense of personal shame.  We chose the Old in the hopes that it would necessitate a lesser amount of trampling through the Maram rough in search of stray ammo.  That proved true enough, but what wasn't adequately considered was the sense of driving the buggy over those splendidly hummocked fairways.

Which of these does not belong?  The Old Links marker stone, an experienced links player or a g********n buggy?

Theresa was off form as we started, and I quickly reeled off the first four holes.  But no sooner did my mind meander to thoughts of closing it out early and resting the aching gam, but she reels off the next four to square the match.

No day on the Old is complete without the obligatory photo of T on the third tee.

 It went back and forth from there in nip and tuck fashion.  Theresa made par and won the tenth, lost the eleventh to my par and won the Par 3 twelfth when we both made three.  She got even again when I made a mess of thirteen.

The cart parked on the hillocks gives some sense of the terrain.

The two dimensional photos still don't quite capture it, but the hillock to the side of the cart is every bit as high as the cart itself.  It's magical (at least to me) to watch one's shots bounce along thses fairways, disappearing into hollows and bounding back into view, as they can roll out forty or fifty yards on a low tee shot.  It also creates moments of dread for the player, for instance when there's a hollow short of a bunker you can't know if your ball is safe until you get to it.

I won fourteen with a  bar after my single best shot from the Maram and a great uip and down. won fifteen also with a par and sealed the deal with my best shot of the day, a  150 yard six iron (I usually hit it 170-175 yards) into the teeth of the wind to ten feet.

A view of our "new house" from the Old Course, it's the yellow house on the far right.

We had a bit of serendipity in this, our last round in Ballyliffin ((on this trip, I hasten to add).  It had started raining on No. 16 and after hitting my tee ball on No. 17 I had put on my rain jacket, and as we got to No. 18 it showed no signs of letting up.  With the match over and my leg still a concern, I suggested we forgo No. 18 and drive ourselves back to the clubhouse, an eerie coincidence with our maiden voyage  (if you didn't venture back for the critical expository post, it can be found here).  It seems the Gods looking out for our friends at Ballyliffin know how to leave then wanting more.

Current Standings:

T. Simpson   2.5

S. Simpson  4.0