Dorset 2016
The denouement of any given story is often the most important part of the experience – the point at which a story chooses to end, plotlines are wrapped up, characters are left to deal with the circumstances in which they have either gotten themselves into or have subsequently evaded, and you’re left to make up your lasting impression of whatever it is you’ve just spent your time reading, watching or in this case, being a part of.
Endings come in all shapes and sizes of course and MADJIC has had its share. The happiness of Moodies inaugural competition triumph; the shock and incredulity of Chenners Cornish meltdown; the (extremely) damp squib of Baz’s win in the Polder with a round to spare and the ecstasy of Dave’s first star, when it was starting to feel like his major contribution to MADJIC was his parents’ farmhouse in Ireland.
Sure, Mark’s triumph had a hint of ambiguity, a pencilled in asterisk if you like, but one thing MADJIC has never had is ALL-OUT CONTROVERSY. Wouldn’t it be interesting to end a MADJIC like that, just to give us the full house!?
Anyway, one thing about endings is that they should be left for the end. Nobody likes a spoiler and this certainly isn’t Memento (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0209144/)
And so, this given story’s roadshow rumbled on to Dorset, one of the finest counties in the UK and long overdue the mantle of ‘MADJIC Host’. As well as fine beaches, a Jurassic coastline and crumbling castles, many MADJIC members have strong links to the county, giving this year’s event the feel of a homecoming; which made the honour of becoming ‘homecoming queen’ even more special, if such a thing is even possible.
After the relative trials of Belgium, pre-trip MADJC took on a more subdued air and was all the better for it. With Moodie opting to stand down, unable to cope with the demands of a professional tour event on top of the ‘fake competitions’ he occasionally plays with hacker mates at sub-average courses around the M25, we were looking to fill the large void he had left. Never one to shirk change and always ready to spring a surprise, the committee eschewed the all-too-easy ‘one in, one out’ option and went for 2 new players instead. Wild-card.
Harding: (Anglia Uni alumni. Chilvers university buddy. Competition for Chenners. Awful communicator)
So long overlooked he finally got his chance and did he have a BBQ to attend this time? He did not. Back to 8.
Huntley (Brother of Anglia Uni alumni. Room-mate to out-snore Baz. Drinker. Welsh)
Double down. Up to 9.
The ghost of Moodie had been vanquished. Thanks for coming. It was fun. NEXT.
With a stress free build up, the June event crept up on us with only a modicum of handicap-related nonsense to kill the vibes though not a single member felt the need to flounce out of the Wassap chat, the barometer of pre-MADJIC stress.
The journey was an absolute wonder. There’s nothing like getting on the M3 heading south, entering the sandbelt and seeing the heather edging the motorway as you make your way towards the coast, especially as it’s only a couple of hours to your destination.
For those of us that chose the fabulous chain ferry across Poole Harbour, we got to land in Studland amongst the dunes and arrive from the east towards the imposing and magical Corfe Castle, from where our final destination of Kingston was no more than a 10-minute amble up the hill.
The Chain Gang
The house was only a few doors from the very inviting Percy Arms, with its range of local ales, a rather incongruous but highly appreciated Jerk Chicken Shack and its wonderful garden views all the way to the Dorset coast and to the courses we had come to play. With an outhouse comprising 2 rooms and a house that accommodated the rest of us comfortably, a farmhouse kitchen that seated 10 and comparable views to the Percy Arms, it was most probably the easiest and most enjoyable start to a MADJIC ever.
Off to the pub for lunch and then a twilight round at the outrageously great-value Isle of Purbeck Golf Club, 10 minutes back the way we had come.
Situated on raised ground and with most holes having far-reaching views over The English Channel, Poole Harbour, Brownsea Island, and Harry Redknapp’s Range Rover parked up in Sandbanks, it was a glorious starter for 10.
‘I of P’, as I’m sure the locals don’t call it, should have had us pinching ourselves and asking how this day could have continued on its impossibly bitcoin-esque trajectory, but we soon had a stark reminder of the cruelties of modern golf as we witnessed the shenanigans of the gypsies in the 8-ball teeing off in front of us. After numerous duffs, several airshots, a few tops, copious f-bombs and 30 minutes had taken the second fourball only half way along hole 1, there was only one thing for this indignant bunch of middle Englanders (and one Welshman) to do. We wrote a letter to the Daily Mail complained to the man in charge and had the oiks removed from the course and sent off to the duffers one over the road. And don’t come back! I hope to god they didn’t as they would have witnessed Stokes, resplendent in checked trousers and garish striped top, billowing vape smoke out onto the tee box as he shinned one along the floor.
From then on, it was plain sailing time-wise but the course threw up is fair share of challenges. It’s never easy to play a new course that has landing spots and carries that you aren’t familiar with and Isle of Purbeck was littered with them. Who can forget the XXth hole, with the massively elevated tee and the dogleg right? From the green looking back it was an easy 6 iron to a wide and welcoming fairway, but the second 3 ball waited a good 15 minutes for Justin, Chilvers and God Knows Who Else tto give up on the balls they had all spaffed into the funk on the right. What seemed like an eternity later with the first shot finally clear the following 3 ball did exactly the same and spent just as long and to as much avail..
I won’t go into too much detail about peoples play as to be honest, I don’ have a lot of recollection, though I do remember one highlight that I’m sure Justin would like us all to play over in our minds.
It came at the 16th where there was a long par 4 with a stream in front of the green over 220 yards down the fairway. He took his 4 iron in order to lay up but hit it with such uncommon venom that it trickled into the water. Points dropped for sure but such a boost to a very fragile mind, riven with anxiety after so many years of powerless ‘lady-golf’.
So, the game finished it was with a sense of some shame that we sat down and totalled up the shots. This took longer for some than it did for others, though nobody came out of it with any glory. Baz’s 88 and Tom Boys 89 topped the leaderboard, bookended by that quartet of ‘social golfers’, Chris, Chilvers, Frosty and Tone, inseparable on 114 or 115. Big Ouch!
Hang on, just as all seemed lost; what’s this coming over the hill, is it a monster, is it a monster? Not quite, but not far off.
It is in fact Baz’s goofy scoring spreadsheet and before we know it, the 4 of them are adding staggering combined 21 shots to their handicaps and are dropping that horror-show of a round from their totals. Controversial? Sure, but not an ending and certainly no more than the kind of invention we are used to in such a progressive organisation. Extra points, reloads, team day, we’ve tried it all, but shoehorning a 4 round handicap levelling tool into 3 rounds was possibly not the MADJIC committee’s finest moment. Let’s just hope there would be no further scoring controversies!
So, back we went to the Percy Arms to eat Jerk and drink beer and generally bore each other about how we played. It doesn’t matter that nobody cares. Just take turns, nod when its not your turn and then bring it back to your game any time there is a pause for breath.
Jerks eating Jerk
With a couple of UK top 100, top price courses still to come, Saturday was the turn of the cheap wild-card, The Martin Hawtree designed Dorset Country Club, to host the championship.
20 minutes away by car, a plaque at the door welcoming MADJIC, coffee and bacon rolls to kick off the day and a very pleasant 18 holes on two of their 3 relatively easy nines to get the scores ticking over. The course was very lush (we started off in a downpour) and not un-pretty. Just not worth writing too much on. Which is lucky as I can’t for the life of me remember a single hole apart form the 18th. Which I blobbed.
MADJIC is in town
I’m guessing the two Dave’s didn’t however and their respective 45 and 44 points (both picking up a bonus point out on the course) were more than enough to take top honours. Huntley, Pro and Baz may have hit low 80s but the Gods of Baz’s Spreadsheet were against them.
Anyhow, a much more respectable group score (I’ll save Chris Harding’s blushes and not mention his 115), a fantastic burger thrown in at the finish and a great way to get prepared for the big England Euro Championship massacre of Iceland that very evening!
Harding’s Blushes
What should have been a straightforward trip to the pub to drink beer and watch England win and enjoy each others company turned into quite the shenanigan however. The nuances of the story are too many to mention but who will forget the tantrums and tiaras of Huntley, Baz and Justin, sulking in the garden due to the old last-minute pub switcheroo. Keeping one’s word and doing what is right by it? Ignored, in favour of having a great seat in front of the TV in a busier, more atmospheric pub across the road. Simples, surely? Anyhow, we all sat silent and let Stokes take the rap (well, he was actually the only person there who knew the other pub had been pre-booked) as he traipsed out to the sullen three to make amends.
It worked and the gang were once again back together to witness one of English football’s many low points.
A trip up the road to a random pub decked out in fairy lights, several beers later and we were all back to watch Coldplay storm Glasto and consume more red wine. The fact we were enthralled by Coldplay I think is testament to how euphoric the day had been. Could it possibly get any better?
The pub of (de)lights
Of course it could as the next day took us to one of the prettiest courses we have played at MADJIC, Parkstone. This wonderful slip of a course, Parkstone is a beautiful and mature heathland course with lakes, standings of mature pines and a fairytale of bends and hills and interesting holes that snaked around in a circular fashion, finishing below a sumptuous 19th perched high on the hill.
Despite a rather tepid welcome and unwanted demands of handicap certificates, once the admin was complete we started with a tremendous full breakfast on the terrace before making our way down to the welcoming 1st.
Credit to Sythesy for posting his first sub-90 round of the holiday, joining Baz and Huntley on this occasion; two players who to date hadn’t shot above 90! Stokes shot a very respectable 92, earning him a whopping 43 points and his second round sub-100.
The rest of the gang struggled, despite the relatively short length, but the mark of the course was the fact that all players were raving about it despite some mixed results.
More beer, more jerk chicken, more frivolity and more consternation regarding the terrible spreadsheet got us in the mood for Dorset’s number 1 rated course, Broadstone and the ending of this year’s event.
Set in the glorious Dorset countryside (though you would never know it from the less than salubrious entrance through a new build estate), Broadstone is one of the finest examples of an unspoilt heathland golf course in the South of England, and deservedly sits in the Top 100 golf courses in the UK, as judged by Golf World and Golf Monthly. Within 250 acres of rolling terrain, the fairways run freely and separately through superb natural heathland with its swathes of heather, pine, gorse and rhododendrons, several holes offer magnificent views for miles around.
At the time I remember thinking that it was just that bit more special in this one player’s humble opinion than Parkstone in the sense that it was longer, wider and more epic than Parkstone. I don’t necessarily think that a more ‘epic’ course makes a better course but it also had a lot of wonderful snaking holes, large drops and water features. The course wasn’t in the best condition as there had been an issue with the grass but it only really affected 5 holes and the staff were magnanimous enough to give us a discount for our next visit should we wish to come back and enjoy it in its full splendour. I for one would love to, despite an average round
The more I think about it, it’s really difficult to decide which of the two was the best but the honour of playing two great courses in succession has probably only ever been matched by North Berwick and Gullane on consecutive days.
As for the white heat of competition, let’s get straight to the eventual champion, Christopher Stokes. After the asterisk of 2015, it would be amiss of me not to mention the scoring debacle that had the members of MADJIC literally choking on their lager tops on Broadstone’s tight, but adequate side verandah. No more than 12 minutes after the competition had ended and the galleries had squeezed their way out onto the B317 towards Poole Harbour, the immortal words ‘hang on Stokes, I’ve got you down for a 9 there’ were uttered. Well, didn’t we have a field day.
The Earl of Etiquette, the Regent of Recall, The Prince of Propriety, The Doyen of Decorum. Call him what you will, he could sense the Leicester City-like romance crashing down around him. ‘It was a 4 Dave. Definitely a 4. I remember it.’ And with that, not another word has been said on the matter. And not another word will be.
As much as we would love to give this story the controversial ending I have been building up to, it would be churlish to. He deserved his star, was one of few players not to abuse the appalling administrative cock-up and played some super golf when all around were losing their heads. We didn’t think it would be the courses for a 6-iron specialist but if the Big Dogs can’t keep it on the fairway then what’s the point in putting them in the bag.
The Clown with his Crown
After applauding a new name on the trophy and a stratospheric rise from golfing muppet to champion, let’s wrap this up instead in schoolboy fashion – pointing at someone and laughing.
Nobody can know about the pressure of a final round at MADJIC to win the trophy until they get there and not many know what it’s like to get there and then lose your head. Huntley can add his name to those of Bailey and Chenners and Dorset can add its name to the exalted company of East Lothian, South Wales and West Ireland.
There’s always next time!