Although I recognise golf is considered a social game, there is an awful lot to be said for playing on your own.
Because the sport is essentially an internal battle with yourself, there really is no need for other people to be around when you play it.
That’s the conclusion I came to recently when, rather than complete my tax return, I went up to my club for a solo round.
Fortunately, an early morning deluge had discouraged most of the regulars so there weren’t very many people about as I slid my clapped-out motor into a prime slot in the front row that you would normally have to set your alarm clock to secure.
Anxious not to be spotted in the locker-room by a well-meaning but unwelcome fellow member looking for a game, I boldly changed my shoes in the car park, a practise regarded by many as far worse than cheating.
Then, without looking back, I strode over to the thankfully unoccupied first tee and before you could say “Fancy making up a four?” I was away.
After walking approximately 200 yards down the middle of the fairway and just before reaching my ball, I noticed a couple teeing off at the 2nd.
No problem. I would simply take my time and smack at least one other ball so as not to appear to be pressing them.
However, the rather-too-gentle progress did begin to irritate me a touch and so, halfway down the 5th, I conceded myself a 145-yard approach for an eagle two, marked down pars at the tricky 6th and awkward 7th, threw a withering glance at the geriatric fourball causing the hold-up and walked across to the vacant eighth tee. Hee! Hee!
It was more than fun; it was glorious. How tediously conventional and unimaginative it is to play the holes in the same dull order every time.
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How much more creative and liberating it is to think to yourself, “I fancy a par-5.” If you feel there’s a hole where you didn’t really do yourself justice, the sensible thing is to so arrange your round that you have the opportunity to play it again and achieve redemption.
And why play 18 holes when you might only have time for 14 or, more likely since you will be having so much fun, really fancy 22?
Solo golf: You don’t have to say ‘hard luck’ or, worse, ‘good shot’
Great game though it undoubtedly is, golf is far too constrained by convention. The etiquette is all too time consuming. If my ball is on the green, I want to walk straight to it and not pick my way through a minefield of other people’s putting lines.
All the rules of golf, which are in any case needlessly oppressive, are suspended when you are on your own. If you miss the discipline, simply substitute others that are both more sensible and tolerant.
For example, shots made where you weren’t properly concentrating or were distracted can be retaken without penalty. Not only can you give yourself as many Mulligans as you want, but you also don’t have to elect which ball is the one ‘in play’ until you have completed the hole.
But the real joy of solo golf is the glorious isolation. What an enormous waste of time it is watching someone else struggling to hit a ball when you could be struggling to hit one yourself.
Apart from anything else, playing on your own obviates the necessity to keep saying ‘hard luck’ and, worse still, ‘good shot.’
Furthermore, you don’t have to look for your playing partners’ balls or hear about the unseasonably shocking weather they suffered on holiday, their bunions, the turbulent stock market, the price of petrol, global warming, the M25 or the football on TV last night.
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Having no one to admire your immense drives, solid irons or delicate chips is a small price to pay for not having to hang around waiting for others to make up their minds about what club they’re going to mis-hit.
If you must have competition, then play two balls against one another. You versus your alter ego always makes for an interesting clash. At least one of you should go home happy.
You can go home whenever you like, which is immediately after the final putt is sunk. You don’t have to shower, put on a stained tie and moth-eaten jacket and sit around for hours sipping warm beer and being bored by your playing partner’s painfully detailed account of his second round defeat in the Captain’s Cup.
Despite the fact it’s rather oxymoronic, I’m even thinking of starting a Solos Society. Although I’m not sure how clubs would feel about, say, a dozen golfers requiring a dozen tee times, we might be welcomed by uncrowded courses with inadequate facilities wanting to look quite busy but who can’t ordinarily handle the volume.
If you enjoyed this, you should read Clive’s book, ‘Two Ruddy Ducks and a Partridge on a Par Three’. It’s a hysterical collection of spoof letters allegedly written by a Mr Mortimer Merriweather. All are connected with golf and the book is available in all good bookshops and on Amazon at £9.99.
Now have your say
Is there something glorious about playing solo golf, or do you always prefer to be part of a crowd? Why not let us know how you feel about solo golf with a comment on X.
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