Gav,
There’s not enough golf stories so I thought I’d share one.
I recall we were drawn in the same group for the Sunday of the Jacket weekend. Unfortunately not in the same pairing, otherwise I might have my name on the shield!
After the usual shenanigans on Saturday night we were one short on the 1st tee. Your partner. No problem you said, I know where to find him and off you drove. 10 minutes later you were back with a half dressed Shonk sound asleep in the passenger seat. Rumour has it you found him at the Bikkie bar. Just a rumour. Much like the Bikkie bar itself.
After you collected his clubs, tied his shoes and put driver, ball and tee in his hand, Shonk decided a couple of hot ones were needed to loosen himself up. It didn’t do much for him … and he still wasn’t loose when he played your ball for the second. Although he did fall out of the cart while in motion.
As the enjoyment of the previous night wore off Shonk became more and more agitated. And hot ones weren’t helping. Nevertheless, you calmly encouraged him, raked his bunker marks, repaired his divots, lined up his putts and collected him from wondering to the wrong hole. You never raised your voice or showed any sign of disappointment throughout the round. Not even when Shonk threw his driver end over end down the cart path or tossed his putter in the lake.
As we finished the round, I remember saying “you are a saint”.
So Saint Gav I will treasure that and many other memories from our golf weekends that you have been so inspirational in developing and energetic in documenting. Your absence will be conspicuous but we will all strive to maintain the tradition that you have been instrumental in building.
You, Maz and the kids are in our thoughts,
Sols and Liz
P.S. Liz wants me to write that you are a spunk – she always thought you were a famous footballer and couldn’t understand how you had maintained your looks. Who did she have you confused with??
P.P.S. Sorry Tim
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