PENNANT
Golf appeals to players of all ages and abilities because the handicap system usually allows you to compete against yourself and the course. If you can accept your declining powers, it is a game for the ages.
Paradoxically, given the basis of most sports is to beat a known opponent, there is a benefit to be gained by not knowing how others are doing. It allows you to concentrate on your own game, the companionship of your partners and nature itself. To discover at the end that you have won is an unexpected bonus.
Clearly this isn’t the case with professional golf where handicaps are irrelevant and the game is conducted in full public view. Pennant golf and other forms of match play is the closest most of us come to “proper golf.”
So maybe it is time to appreciate the achievements of our Men’s Scratch Pennant team. With this year’s win they now have eight victories since 2013 six of which were in a row and included five successive wins against Morwell. And they are not finished yet.
Now, some context. It wasn’t until 1971 that we won our first pennant and that was a Junior team. Then followed a twenty-year drought when in 1991 we came good with a victory for the Women, a Division 4 for the Men and the pinnacle, a Men’s Scratch. This team contained a fresh-faced Anthony Bambridge and Mark Allen, with the” old” man and captain, Shane Dwyer.
In the years after, the Men fell away and by 2012, the Women had 13, the Juniors 3 and the Men only six. This allowed Karen Adams free reign with her less than plaintive cry of, “When will you blokes do something?” The call was finally heeded. In that year the men won Division One Handicap and then went on a Division One Scratch rampage.
It is no surprise that these teams contained quality players such a Ryan Hammond, Mark Allen, Leon Cook and Matt Long who were regularly near-scratch handicappers. Mike Santo and Ryan Radford weren’t far behind. They also enjoyed winning and a clutch situation brought out the best. On a foul day at Trafalgar Leon walked up the first of the play off holes with the team score locked at three apiece. Both Leon and his opponent were short of the green; Leon’s chip was perfect; his opponent crumbled under the pressure.
It was a similar story at Moe. Ryan Hammond tried to keep his match alive with a putt the length of the green on the seventeenth but his opponent had a tap in for a win. Enter Matt Long who went to the final hole square with his opponent and the teams three apiece.
Matt’s iron tee shot on the dog leg par 4 landed left in the trees but with a shot to the green. His second shot was just long but with a delicate putt down the slope. His opponents’ tee shot had been perfect. Middle of the fairway and on the flat surface. Pressure though became key. His approach shot to the green was marginally short and, with back spin, left him with a straightforward chip. It wasn’t straight forward though. He fluffed it and didn’t do much better with his next. Matt completed the business.
These sorts of heroics are easy to recognise but Pennant is the sum of the parts and any hole might be decisive. Mick McManus probably hit a longer ball than Shane Pallant and so was always a delight to follow. As a spectator, you can’t be everywhere at once so I didn’t see him drive the shortish 6th at Warragul. He probably didn’t need a driver. And nor did I see his drive on the 9th at Traralgon and this time he would have needed a driver. I did see what followed next. Both he and his opponent were pin-high but his opponent was off the green, below the hole and a good chance to chip in for an eagle. Mick was above the hole, at least a metre in height and with a tree branch in his way. Oh, and with the slightest of miscalculation, his ball would roll off the green. Mick played the most delicate of chips. His opponent couldn’t hole out and the hole was halved. It could well have been the decisive play that led to overall victory. Who knows?
I won’t get into the debate as to whether Chess is a sport – and my advice to you is don’t because if you argue against you won’t escape alive – but I see it as the hardest of all competitions. Imagine maintaining absolute concentration for up to thirty two games in full view of the world and knowing your opponent is close enough to smell your fear? Cycling is simply brutal. Yes, you may have been part of the break-away for four hours only to be swept aside by the Peloton in the last hundred metres but as a “domestique” your sacrifice is for the greater team good. And don’t get me started on penalty shoot outs in soccer.
Pennants though has most of these elements.
It is tactical. You do need to know when to play for a half and when to risk all. It is psychological. At what stage do you stop conceding “gimmee” putts? You need to be able to spend hours in relative civility with your temporary mortal enemy. Above all though you must like your character being tested to the full. No, not above all because you must like winning and to do this a healthy dose of the mongrel is necessary. Pennant, anyone?
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