Just Call Me Ace

If you've read my bio, you'll know that golf is my other passion...well, aside from Michèle!

Today I got my first hole-in-one.  Par 3 14th hole at Anderson Links.  Easy 9 iron.

So cool.



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Golf and Celebrity Wine

What is it about wine that attracts so many famous golfers to put their name on a label? Greg Norman, Nick Faldo, and Mike Weir all have had their wines in the LCBO/Vintages. Ernie Els has his own winery in South Africa. Now the Golden Bear, Jack Nicklaus, is putting his name on some Napa Valley wines produced by Terlato Wines. The target market for these wines is golf clubs and resorts in the US, so don't hold your breath seeing them here.

As someone who’s into wine and golf in a big way, I can see the attraction. Both have gurus who promise, “If you only do it my way, success is guaranteed”. Both winemakers and golfers are always seeking to become better, adjusting this, fiddling with that, hoping that perfection, even for a moment (or a vintage) is just around the corner. And then, after a great vintage, or a great round, you start over again.

Both golf and wine have an “Old World” and a “New World” approach. In wine, the Old World approach emphasizes the letting the vineyard and terroir express itself; the winemaker is there to help that happen. The New World approach puts the winemaker firmly in charge to correct nature’s mistakes and provide a consistent, even homogenized product. (I’m betraying my bias here.)

US PGA tournament courses exemplify New World golf courses: perfect fairways, immaculate greens, nature’s flaws erased. In a word, predictable. Old World golf lets nature’s “imperfections” be part of the experience. And in both golf and wine, you’ll find the Old World approach in the New World and vice versa.

Finally, golf and wine are two things that have tried to shake off their traditionally snobby reps. Many people know only the upscale, intimidating versions of golf and wine. Not all of the snobbery has been stripped away (let’s face it, that’s what attracts some people to both) but both wine and golf are more easily accessible today.

But do you buy celebrity wines? A wine with a golfer’s name (or an actor’s name) on the label? Celebrity endorsements, outside of their expertise, are a puzzle to me. Sure, if Mike Weir is your absolute favourite golfer, why not? Otherwise, I wouldn’t buy a wine with a golfer’s name on the label, any more than I would buy Mondavi golf clubs or Gaja golf balls.

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Putting the Cart Before the Horse’s Ass

Back out to play 18 holes at Fontcaude. As you may know from previous posts, this course is very hilly so, this time, we each borrowed a better-quality golfcart. I borrowed one from a friend of Bob and Michèle borrowed Bob’s cart. It helped, but we were still beat by the time we reached the last hole. The 18th is a par 5, boomerang-shaped. The first part is a long downhill slope off the tee, then a long uphill slope towards the hole.

After we tee off, we reach the crest of the downhill. Michèle says, “Bob’s cart needs to be adjusted. It always wants to go to the left. Watch this.” She sends the cart down the hill, and it gently turns left.

“Mine’s the opposite,” I say. “It always wants to go to the right.” With that, I shove the cart down the hill. Away it goes, gathering speed, slowly turning right, going faster, turning right…turning right for a drainage ditch that’s about a five-foot drop off the edge of the fairway!

Off I go after the cart, at a trot, then a sprint, then a full gallop. It’s downhill, the cart gathers speed…but so do I. My high school geometry and calculus, dormant these many years, suddenly activate. I plot the point where the cart, at its speed and turning trajectory, and I, at my speed and straight trajectory, will intercept. C’mon legs, don’t fail me now! I’m closing the gap, but my speed and the slope of the hill are forcing me straight downhill. Ten feet and closing…six feet and closing…but the cart keeps turning away from me. It’s getting away. I lunge for the handle and grasp it. I’m going one way, the cart is going another. The cart yanks on my arm and swivels me around. I hold on but the force of stopping flips the cart and my bag sideways. I won’t let go, not now, not on the edge of the drainage ditch.

The cart is safe. My clubs are safe. My self-esteem…well, at my age, it’s reassuring that the adrenal glands still work.