Woodingdean Gull
New member
The day looked good. No, the day looked excellent. A cloudless sky, and hardly a breath of wind. The MPV and its’ three occupants, pausing only momentarily at an unkind, red traffic signal, waited eagerly for the first sighting of the public house, ‘The Pilgrim Goose’. (How could anyone forget a name like that?) There it was, and opposite, assimilating the gates of Nirvana, the entrance to Hassocks Golf Club, the ‘arena’ for the day’s games.
They disembarked. The loud, good-natured banter, and poorly composed wordplay, filled the still air. This was a big day, but not just for them, for all true football supporters. It still seemed unreal that two rival ‘gangs’ could come together to forge an alliance, in order to benefit others. Twenty years ago, the thought of supporters from Brighton and Hove Albion F.C. and Crystal Palace F.C. enjoying each other’s company, sharing a beer, and applauding the other’s efforts and endeavors, would have made you a candidate to be certified. Thank God those days are (nearly) gone.
Others started to arrive, old acquaintances were renewed, and there was much talk of “0-0” and other such meaningless scores, which don’t really need mentioning. Some found difficulty in following the easy directions and somehow not reading Hassocks, but a dyslexia (?) induced Mid-Sussex.
By 10.25, all of the 28 players taking part were assembled by the first tee. For the first group to tee-off was the nerve-racking ordeal of doing so in front of all the others. Thankfully, the gallery at this early stage was not large, and the intrepid first four commenced the ordeal. Colin Kemp drove off “straight down the middle“ and the relief was plain to see. Duncan Rowan, suffering from the pressure, went “out of bounds”, as did Nick Jackson. Tony Langridge, wearing the captains’ mantle, stepped up to the tee, accompanied to hoots and derisory comments due to the shorts and legs on view. Having luck on his side, his ball landed near the fairway, in bounds, and the correct side of the pond.
It had begun.
The next three and a half hours or so were as they were meant to be. In an idyllic setting, on an idyllic day, only camaraderie would prevail. As the round progressed, along with the soft drinks, only words of encouragement, help and advice were offered. Certain parts stick out. Nick, appropriately, ‘eagling’ the par four fifth hole. Colin, driving from the tee and ending alongside the green at the fifteenth and eighteenth holes. But most of all, the sheer enjoyment of the day.
The nineteenth hole was most welcome. The wonderful ‘Hassocks Grill’ arrived, and no one was disappointed. The eagle at the fifth was mentioned once or twice, and our thanks go to Colin for checking and scoring the cards. The results were eagerly awaited, but this was secondary to the actual event. Gareth produced raffle prizes, including one from Hassocks G.C. for two free rounds.
Douglas and his wife arrived to present the prizes. A lovely touch. For the record, the Albion won the team trophy, and Palace won the individual trophy, honours even.
But surely, the winners, were those who took part, knowing that a memory would be upheld, and that those less fortunate, would in the future, receive help to do what some of us take for granted.
Yes, it was just about a perfect day.
They disembarked. The loud, good-natured banter, and poorly composed wordplay, filled the still air. This was a big day, but not just for them, for all true football supporters. It still seemed unreal that two rival ‘gangs’ could come together to forge an alliance, in order to benefit others. Twenty years ago, the thought of supporters from Brighton and Hove Albion F.C. and Crystal Palace F.C. enjoying each other’s company, sharing a beer, and applauding the other’s efforts and endeavors, would have made you a candidate to be certified. Thank God those days are (nearly) gone.
Others started to arrive, old acquaintances were renewed, and there was much talk of “0-0” and other such meaningless scores, which don’t really need mentioning. Some found difficulty in following the easy directions and somehow not reading Hassocks, but a dyslexia (?) induced Mid-Sussex.
By 10.25, all of the 28 players taking part were assembled by the first tee. For the first group to tee-off was the nerve-racking ordeal of doing so in front of all the others. Thankfully, the gallery at this early stage was not large, and the intrepid first four commenced the ordeal. Colin Kemp drove off “straight down the middle“ and the relief was plain to see. Duncan Rowan, suffering from the pressure, went “out of bounds”, as did Nick Jackson. Tony Langridge, wearing the captains’ mantle, stepped up to the tee, accompanied to hoots and derisory comments due to the shorts and legs on view. Having luck on his side, his ball landed near the fairway, in bounds, and the correct side of the pond.
It had begun.
The next three and a half hours or so were as they were meant to be. In an idyllic setting, on an idyllic day, only camaraderie would prevail. As the round progressed, along with the soft drinks, only words of encouragement, help and advice were offered. Certain parts stick out. Nick, appropriately, ‘eagling’ the par four fifth hole. Colin, driving from the tee and ending alongside the green at the fifteenth and eighteenth holes. But most of all, the sheer enjoyment of the day.
The nineteenth hole was most welcome. The wonderful ‘Hassocks Grill’ arrived, and no one was disappointed. The eagle at the fifth was mentioned once or twice, and our thanks go to Colin for checking and scoring the cards. The results were eagerly awaited, but this was secondary to the actual event. Gareth produced raffle prizes, including one from Hassocks G.C. for two free rounds.
Douglas and his wife arrived to present the prizes. A lovely touch. For the record, the Albion won the team trophy, and Palace won the individual trophy, honours even.
But surely, the winners, were those who took part, knowing that a memory would be upheld, and that those less fortunate, would in the future, receive help to do what some of us take for granted.
Yes, it was just about a perfect day.