A swinging time

Our correspondent, caddie for a day, walks on to the greens with confidence. It8217;s hard work, she says, and you can never live down handing over the wrong club

Our correspondent, caddie for a day, walks on to the greens with confidence. It8217;s hard work, she says, and you can never live down handing over the wrong club
First, a confession. I knew about golf as much as Miss Jane Austen would have been acquainted with the game of soccer. Until one morning, when I decided to step into the shoes of a caddie. I teed off this personal quest for knowledge by reading about clubs, greens, shots and fairways and dialled Major Gen retd B W Kelson8217;s number. I was quite surprised when he agreed to play a nine-hole game with me as his caddie.

8220;I know nothing of golf except for a couple of good-looking golfers,8221; I warned him. He replied benignly, 8220;Don8217;t worry. All you need is to be fit enough to walk and pull the golf trolley for about two hours. And don8217;t forget to carry an anti-suntan lotion and a cap.8221; Now that didn8217;t sound too tough. And with all due respect, if he had the stamina for all of the above, it should be okay for me too.
On the assigned day, I shook myself awake at 5.30 am and after a heady start of fried eggs sunny side up on toast and orange juice, I drove towards Rajendra Singhji Institute RSI golf course in the Pune cantonment area. Kelson was already there. I wished him luck and we started off.

8220;A caddie walks behind the golfer and carries the golf bag. You are supposed to identify the different clubs8212;ones made of iron or wood8212;and a good caddie understands what kind a player will need to play a particular shot,8221; he said. I nodded. By this time, I had fetched a lot of stares as the only woman caddie on the course. The major-general joked, 8220;It is like Myanmar, you know. There are only lady caddies there, as the men are very lazy.8221;

8220;Anyway, you pull the bag on the trolley for me and hand me the clubs,8221; he continued as we walked on the green turf.
Fifteen minutes later I found myself sweating as I lugged the 20 kg trolley and tried to keep pace with him. I also learnt that what they called a good shot was bad for me8212;as the ball would land about 300 meters away and I8217;d wander on the course looking for it. My arms and calves were starting to hurt and I knew that I8217;d end up with sore muscles.

8220;Give me a four,8221; the major-general demanded. I struggled like a child trying to get a hang of balancing on a bicycle as I pulled out club number four, not before I had handed the wrong one to the irritated golfer. 8220;A caddie should also always show consideration for other players on the course and should not disturb their game by moving, talking or making unnecessary noises,8221; he added. Uh-oh. Which means my flustered handling of the orders was not good golf etiquette.

As the ball reached the putting green, he looked at me sternly. 8220;Don8217;t drag the trolley on the green. It spoils the texture.8221; The remaining confidence I had now crumbled. As we reached the seventh hole, I was sure I had developed tiny bumps on my arms. At the ninth, Kelson assured me that he had a good time. I managed to mumble that so had I.

Well, at least it taught me some home truths. One, a writer can survive anything but a misprint and a caddie can survive anything but handing over a wrong club. Two, a payment of Rs 40 for two hours of caddie work the rate at the RSI golf course was gross injustice. Three, golf is not a relaxing retired person8217;s game, given the amount of walking and stamina it requires. And finally, between the caddie and the player, the grass is certainly greener on the player8217;s side. Golf clinic, here I come.
-Rutuja Wakankar is a feature writer with Indian Express, Pune