Waterloo station.. Bollocks, I'm only in Waterloo station. Everytime I wake up from a tequila hangover, I think I'm going to be in Surrey already. I've been here so many times, so many memories. When I was home after my first tour of the heathlands with Russell Talley and Jim Reilly (oh, no one here remembers Jim, one of the founding GCA guys), I hardly said a word to my playing partners until I said 'Yes" to being a Yale member. When I was in London, all I could think about was being in Surrey, and when pillaging the American West, I wanted to be in London, waiting for a new course to discover.
But I'm still in Waterloo. Memories clouding my consciousness, begging for attention over the din of the drone voice saying, "Platform 3 for the 11:09 train to Walton-on-Thames stopping at... And the voice continues, belting out mind numbing train schedules in an Orwellian brainwashing tone, I fully expect the voice to utter, "Keep calm and carry on!"---the World War II English stiff upper lip phrase. But yet the memories remain. Meeting Jim Reilly every afternoon while on a London tour, where to today my friend? Swinley, Ascot, Weybridge, Pulborough? Sitting there I realize I miss Jim and I miss Russell. Russell would pick us up from his golf architecture offices in Sunningdale and serve as match referee. Jim and I played over 30 matches throughout the heathlands and London over 2 years, all for the glory of a Claret Jug we had inscribed, the owner of this holds the Grudge Cup. Many of those "walks thru the heath" remain the basis of my understanding of golf architecture and for realizing the true meaning of friendship, but now Jim's living in Costa Rica, Russell's in Oxford, Paul Turner is no where to be found and Tuco is solo hombre.
I walk past the WH Smith and a memory of Darren Kilfara comes to mind. Does anyone here recall Darren? I remember Darren joining us on some of these trips, I never seemed to get along with him, he being an anglophile Georgian and me being an outlaw. While taking the train out to Ascot during Royal Ascot week we were surrounded on the train by an interesting species--the drunk, cleavage baring, crazy headgear wearing English roses going to and fro from the races that take place every June. I think urban dictionary.com would call them cougars or better yet the most randy females on earth, but Darren was too busy reading his gilded copy of Napolean's conquests. Jim and I were matching wits with the femininas and Darren skoffed at it all with the sneer of a faux english aristocrat wearing salmon coloured trousers and forgetting to shave his nose and ear hair. Good god, those were halcyon days.
I move on as some bloke bumps into my clubs. I move for my six shooter, but forget I'm in England and my western frontier justice attitude doesnt fly here and I promised the UK authorities not to pillage. I continue on to find the train but see the golden arches- not heaven, Tuco is going to hell, or at least to where he can play Deal every day in the afterlife. Oh I see a McDonalds, a hash brown would be delectable to soak up the residue of gin and tequila. But then I hear an 8y old or so ruddy faced, satchel wielding, uniform wearing boy, who is obviously late for any kind of schooling screaming in an Essex accent-- (oh Tuco knows accents)
Mummy! Mummy!
I want an Ice Lolly Mummy!
(Tuco to self, what is an ice lolly|?!)
The mum then says: No! but that doesnt shut the kid up.
Mummy! Mummy!
I want a McDonalds milkshake mummy!This Veruka Salt display of a instant gratification demand (Charlie and Chocolate Factory) turns my spurs up and I head for the train to Walton-on-Thames. But I'm not going to Walton Heath, I'm going to Weybridge for a date with the hottest gal on the heath--St. Georges Hill. She's not the best, oh that is Sunningdale but she's like Brooklyn Decker delicious looking. Yet I have odd memories of the course. For one, Jim Reilly kicked my tail in 2 matches there and as many know, Tuco is a sore loser. But something has bothered me for years about St. Georges Hill. I just found something missing in the course, something not world class. It bothered me, it reminds me of Mortfontaine, both have great 3rd nines, but somehow the big course just hits a bad tone.
Driving thru the gates into the richest housing complex in England, Joe Jackson yelling out, "Look over there---where" is playing on my inner monologue looking at the stately English mansions while I continue to look for a peak of the club. Finally, the car turns right on Golf Road and I see one of the best clubhouses in the world sitting on a stately ridge overlooking the course. What a place for a hair of the dog before I go out! But then it all falls to tears.
Why? For one, my tequila fog plays this auditory track--
(
Radio fade in from when "Have A Cigar" preludes into "Wish You Were Here"…and needle dropping onto an old turntable
Man: Discipline… It remains necessary!
Woman: What’s the matter with you Derek this is all nonsense.
Man: I don’t know.
Woman: Well, what is it?
Man: Nothing. I’m sure of it.(Fading marching band sound to guitar intro)-- And then Pink Floyd's Wish you were here plays in my head. And man, I miss my friends.. Jim Reilly and RT.
So there I stand-- The 1st hole at St. Georges Hill is the best opener on the heath. One drives into a valley then the hole goes steeply uphill to a great greensite now sitting left of its original position but deliciously atop the hill. It just looks right to the eye, but a four ball of ladies practicing for a match are hacking up the hole. What I love about the English is the way they can sometimes show politeness in a firm way. The starter encourages me to start on the 10th which is also a fabulous hole with a blind second shot over a ridge if you drive to the wrong part of the fairway and a great two tier green. So there my adventure began.
I do not wish to go hole by hole at the moment except to say this. St. Georges Hill is much better than I remembered, it is as delightful and a hair bit more challenging than Pulborough. It isnt penal, is still beautiful and allows you to play golf without losing your ball or sanity. It is truly a regal course. Two things though make me want to put my spurs in the horse. 1) The course lacks an all world hole yet the sum of its parts make it superior to Walton Heath in my opinion--I'm sure Tom Doak will try to pick me apart here and 2) The 8th hole HAS to be restored because then the course will have an all world hole.
That said, Tuco's photo ability is superlative, look at what I captured vis a vis lighting with a camera phone!
The 8th at St. Georges Hill
I can safely say SGH has gone up a lot in my book even though a hole that needs restoration is still an awesome shot value from ridge to plateau. So when it was all done, a member said to me, So, old chap, how did you enjoy it.
Chap? did he call Tuco a chap? Is he saying I'm a bit of a dandy? I have to get home, what of my reputation.. He then recommends this book.
http://www.amazon.com/Am-I-Chap-Gustav-Temple/dp/1905636814I then introduce myself as Sean Arble.