- 'I could play with you if you don't mind.' the old man suggested, as Fabian the Australian and I stood on the first tee of Valle De Sol golf course in Costa Rica, waiting for Kirk the Australian to finish doing a shit in the clubhouse. Having spent a bit of time with Fabian and Kirk in Nicaragua and now Costa Rica over the last week, I have noticed that Australians like to tell you if they need a shit, are going to do a shit, or have just been and done a shit.
Fabian and I looked at the old man and then at each other. We didn´t really want to play with him, but were both too polite to say no. And so my game of golf in Costa Rica with two Australians that I had met in Nicaragua, became a fourball with two Australians that I had met in Nicaragua and a retired American living in Costa Rica.
The retired American was called Richard. We quickly realised with dismay that he was particularly shit at golf, around the time he immediately lost the golf ball he had just shanked off the first tee into trees. To be fair, Kirk and Fabian did not come from the same golfing gene-pool as Greg Norman, and I am still awaiting my own first call-up to the European Ryder Cup team, but still, the three of us were a lot, lot better than Richard. We were soon spending an inordinate amount of time either looking for Richards ball, or worse, waiting for him to have his two practice swings before he hacked
at the ball.
All the time, I was looking at my watch. I had been informed in the clubhouse that it normally started to rain in Costa Rica about 2PM. With a 09:30 tee off and electric golf carts to bomb up and down the fairways between shots, Kirk, Fabian and I should easily have been home and dry and enjoying an Imperial in the nineteenth hole before the rain come on. Unfortunately, this was before Richard the retired American joined us. Richard´s slow play ensured we were still had a few holes to play after five hours, despite one of the Rules of Play on the back of the scorecard outlining a pace of play of 4 hours and 15 minutes over eighteen holes.
All the time, I was looking at my watch. I had been informed in the clubhouse that it normally started to rain in Costa Rica about 2PM. With a 09:30 tee off and electric golf carts to bomb up and down the fairways between shots, Kirk, Fabian and I should easily have been home and dry and enjoying an Imperial in the nineteenth hole before the rain come on. Unfortunately, this was before Richard the retired American joined us. Richard´s slow play ensured we were still had a few holes to play after five hours, despite one of the Rules of Play on the back of the scorecard outlining a pace of play of 4 hours and 15 minutes over eighteen holes.
Ominously dark clouds started forming in the near horizon around 13.30. Lightning started around 14:05, in the distance but getting closer. Around 14:20 the torrential rain started, just as I was holing out a long second putt for a par 3 at the seventeenth hole.
A siren back at the clubhouse was already sounding to tell us to get the hell off the course before we got struck by lightning. Cowering in our golf carts from the downpour, we quickly decided to get the hell off the golf course after the 17th hole, with me generously giving myself a par 5 at the last hole for a final score of 87. It could easily have been less than an 87 if I hadn't got a 8 at one hole, and four putted at another. It could probably have been less than an 87 if I had spent more time focussing on my own ball and less time looking for Richards in the trees.
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