The last time I found myself in a high pressure, competitive golfing environment I was only 12-years-old; I remember it clearly...but not fondly.
It was a beautiful early afternoon in May 1996; George Michael was making headlines with his raunchy number one hit ‘Fast Love’, Manchester United were on the cusp of a third Premier League title and I was potentially one putt away from taking the crown as my middle school’s top golfer.
Alas, the six feet separating my ball from the hole may as well have been one hundred given the way I bottled my chance. An opportunity to join the ranks of Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer and Nick Faldo passed me by...my ball rolling way beyond the hole leaving my opponent, Henry Keane, with the opportunity to take home the decrepit little trophy and £15 worth of WH Smith vouchers. He did so in one confident push of his putter and subsequently left me feeling sick with disappointment.
Fast forward fifteen years and I’m standing in Portman Square in the centre of London taking part in a chipping competition organised by Nespresso. My short-game is once again the centre of attention. The sun isn’t shining - in fact it’s positively pouring down - but by chance George Michael, albeit in handcuffs, is still making headlines, while Sir Alex Ferguson and his surly Scottish ways continue to help the Red Devils dominate the Premier League.
To my left is a swelling crowd of onlookers, to my right colleagues and rivals, and in front of me five nets into which my ball is expected to fall. After four horrendous efforts I’m approached by a genial Spaniard who calmly suggests I alter my club grip. I’m inclined to take his advice; after all, he’s Ryder Cup legend José María Olazábal !
In the hands of greatness
His lilting accent, his warm advice – it works a charm. I swing and watch the ball fall beautifully into the netted target. I’m top of the leader board (apparently the competition isn’t that stiff) and in line for a pair of Celtic Manor Ryder Cup tickets as well as a nifty Nespresso coffee making machine.
Retreating from the elements I seize a glass of champagne. My hands are still shaking from the privilege of contact with a sporting legend but thankfully the bubbles do their stuff. I feel somewhat more relaxed, but the feeling doesn’t last long.
Ten minutes later I’m informed that I’m tied for first place and must take part in a sudden death ‘chip-off.’ Despite a half-serious, and quickly rejected, suggestion that the spoils be shared I’m once again faced with having to strut my stuff in front of a large number of people. Redemption beckons. Put the ball in the net and I might just forgive myself for more than a decade of golf-related hurt and self-loathing.
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Showing me how it's done
My first effort misses, but then so does that of my opponent. A second effort flies past the net but thankfully my equally nervous rival drops his shot short. Technique-wise I’ve definitely improved, but when my third swing puts the ball agonisingly wide I’m once again facing defeat in the face.
It plays out as it did in 1996; my opponent sinks his shot and claims the prize. I’m a runner-up, but somehow a few minutes with José María Olazábal has made me feel, if not quite a winner, then certainly very lucky.
Who wants to watch the Ryder Cup in the rain anyway? I can watch it on television like everybody else and thanks to the kind people at Nespresso I’ll be able to toast the competition with a delightful cup of coffee in my hand as they rewarded my efforts with one of their superb machines all the same.