My week in golf: 2s company…

Murphy’s Law: The principle that if something can possibly go wrong, then it will go wrong.

Even with the ball in the air, melancholy gripped me.

Let me set the scene.

It’s our Christmas Bottle competition, the 8^th hole at Sandburn Hall, a par 3 and I’ve just pured a 5-iron right at the flag.

For everyday hackers like me – I masquerade as an 11-handicapper – this is one of those shots you pull off once a month.

It’s right out of the middle, right on line and is going to be a kick in birdie.

This one moment, this 5 or 10 seconds of brilliance where you fool yourself that, yes, you might actually be able to play this game to some kind of standard, is the reason we put ourselves through an otherwise tortuous cycle of monotony and disappointment.

So why do I look like a kid who’s just been told Santa isn’t real?

Many of you will already have guessed. There is no stocking filler for such a sensational shot.

There is no 2s club.

For those not familiar with the concept, you pay your entry fee for a competition – it’s usually £3 – and then another £1 is added on top.

The pot is added up and then shared among all those players who manage to complete a hole in a precious two shots.

I’m notoriously twitchy over short putts but, of course, I step up and pop this one into the hole with no drama.

I already know it isn’t going to count.

Nearly every competition I play in has a 2s club. I’ve managed just one all year – and now I’ve got another I’m not getting paid.

It gets worse. My playing partner starts laughing as the putt is sent on its way.

It’s the 18^th, a 160-odd yard par 3, and I’ve struck another lovely iron shot – again the 5 – to no more than about 10 feet.

The ball is just on the very fringe and, as putter connects, it’s tracking. You’ve guessed it, right into the hole.

I like to think I’m an even-tempered kind of guy. But now I think someone upstairs is having some fun with me. Two 2s and nothing to show for it.

It’s a just reward, I suppose, for a round that has high expectations but fails to deliver.

The Christmas Bottle, so called because the winners (and all of the top 10 to be fair) walk away with a boot full of booze, requires an exceptional score.

It’s the best attended competition of the year – I think there were 52 teams in this year’s incarnation – and a pairs’ betterball off 9/10^th handicap.

If you are not approaching 50 points, you are not going to get it done.

Three under through 5. My partner, Dave ‘Knocker’ Norris, speculates on how much he’d enjoy his crate of ‘Smooth’ later that evening.

Going through the front in 22 points, we’ve every chance of sneaking into the prizes. After finding a beck with my drive on the 11^th, I even take off the old shoes and socks to play out of the water.

Anything to keep the round on track (I make 5 by the way).

Sadly, we stall like Ian Poulter trying to find a new car carrier and, late birdies aside, come home in 41 points.

It’ll be a dry Christmas in the Carroll household.

Addendum: We had our annual prizegiving on Saturday and, in a bid to raise enthusiasm among those who weren’t picking up either cash or silverware, wisely scheduled it before our shotgun start in the Bottle.

As one of those lucky to pick up a pot this time around, it was great to see so many members on hand to cheer those who’d enjoyed a bit of success during the season.

So here’s a shoutout to anyone out there who got their hands on a prize in 2016.

I’d raise a glass, but I’m all out.