Golf: Golfing gods shine on me

Herald sports writer Wynne Gray watches his putt on the 18th at the Pro Am of the Holden New Zealand Open. Picture / Glenn Jeffrey

Sauntering down the 18th fairway at Gulf Harbour it was easy to imagine the adrenaline rush come Sunday for the winner of the 2005 New Zealand Golf Open.

My emotions may have been blurred by an obedient iron which stayed on the green but it was the corporate tents, funnelling the players to the final green, which suggested the atmosphere awaiting the winner's walk.

While those tents had only transient occupants during Wednesday's pro-am, capacity crowds will boost the mood and test the toughest weekend nerves in this co-sanctioned European Tour event.

It was Colin Montgomerie, a multiple order of merit winner on this tour, who once revealed he had not slept properly for years "because of this bloody game. I don't think you do in a competitive game, you toss and turn and you don't sleep".

Welcome to my world for the past few weeks.

When the invitation came to play as a guest of Emirates Airline in the pro-am it sounded a great idea. As an enthusiastic golfer it would be great to have a hit at Gulf Harbour when the course had been prepared superbly to challenge those who play the sport for a living.

But as the event drew closer there was an escalation in my anxiety.

Mates and family were supportive but they had not had their sleep interrupted by images of wild tee shots and wedges which refused to fly or had the trajectory of long irons. And in the weeks leading into the pro-am, my form crackled with incompetence.

To cap off the disquiet, the Herald then suggested an article on the experience.

Not quite in the style of George Plimpton, the New York journalist who used to immerse himself in high-profile sportsmen's careers and then write about his experiences, but rather a day-on-the-links yarn.

Coping with the yarn was no drama but there was no similar confidence about my game.

It had ruptured consistently in local competitions. Put the word tournament or championship near my scorecard and my game reacted adversely.

Gulf Harbour had not been kind to my game either in the past and writing about the experience might not even be cathartic.

But one restless night I reasoned there must be a golfing god who would allow me to enjoy the privilege of playing the pro-am and some form close to my handicap.

Blessed with perfect early morning weather after a dark cloud or two had disappeared, our Emirates team gathered on the opening par-four hole.

If it was a privilege to be invited, it was an honour to have Mahal Pearce, the 2003 NZ Open winner, as our professional. Two other amateurs, Stuart Neels, general manager a.t.s. Pacific and Jerry Lloyd, general manager Warner Music, made up the fourball.

Pearce's relaxed attitude was infectious. He liked being involved in these events as another chance to assess the layout. While he did that, we could marvel at the numbing simplicity and effectiveness of his swing.

In my prayers I craved a strong opening drive to set up a par on the first.

The drive came, then a wedge, but three putts stopped the momentum. The surface was slick in comparison to the mixed texture we normally try and negotiate.

But Lloyd birdied the first in what was the start of a great day for the group, one which ended with us signing for a 14 under-par net total of 58.

And while we were nudged out of second place in the competition on a countback, at least I could answer positively inquiries from friends and relatives about my own demons.

The relief showed. Somehow in the euphoric afterglow of stowing my clubs, chatting to fellow participants and discussing the day back in the clubhouse, my keys were locked inside the car.

It was not the sort of discovery I needed to make as I went to leave the course.

It was bad enough that I had remonstrated with my eldest son about his negligence in making the same mistake twice in the last month. Now the old man had done the same.

Fortunately the car was of such a vintage that its security was defenceless against a coathanger and a helpful man from Holden, the tournament's principal sponsors.

Avoiding embarrassment twice in one day, my luck was in, it was time to scarper.