The Highview Ball Hunting and Choral Society

Over the past few years, the members of the Society have met on Tuesday and Thursday mornings to strike a few balls, tell a few lies and recently, blend their voices in song. They are all seniors, those men for whom the golf equipment manufacturers provide special clubs, softer golf balls and ungodly coloured golf shirts.

The group has changed over the last couple of years. Hank left to return to the land of his birth to attend to one of those medical problems that beset older men. He stills sends a monthly supply of ‘found’ balls to Doug, knowing full well that Doug tends to send a number of balls to that great re-cycling bin known as the Highview Golf and Country Club rough. Lorne, the best golfer in the Society, has had to retire, his age and arthritis finally besting him where the greens could not. Doug, Ron and Bill labour on, occasionally joined by one of the Porter brothers or family or friends who the members think might be able to last 18 holes without becoming discouraged at our golf or bursting their seams with impolite laughter.

Each round begins with a coffee, and if Judith has the muffins ready, a tasty delight of fruit and bran, ingredients the members require on a daily basis. After a very short period of stretching, groans and lofty promises of a better round than last time, the first ball is struck. For reasons unknown, the Society members are perfect examples of how hard it is to get a ‘good’ one off the 1st tee. It must be the proximity of the clubhouse or the little side remarks from the peanut gallery that causes these embarrassing golf shots. Nonetheless, the members are soon striding off, determination in every step, to bogie the hole.

Following proper golf etiquette, the members mark their golf balls in case one should mistakenly strike another’s ball, thus incurring a two-stroke penalty (usually deferred due to problems with the glasses that day). Doug, who has been known to launch a ball into the wild blue yonder, puts two blue dots on his ball; Ron puts a large black R on his while Bill artfully inscribes a smiley face on his ball. The greens keepers are fully aware of these markings, however they seem to be reluctant to return the balls to their rightful owners, especially after a ball whizzes near their tractor from an adjoining fairway.

Ball hawking is strictly forbidden in the Society, however the two-minute search and rescue time is considered acceptable. Doug, needing some laser surgery or new glasses (the prognosis changes each week) has the habit of asking, “Did you see where that one went?” While Ron still has that copper’s eye for spotting the flight line of a fleeing fugitive ball. When it comes to finding errant shots in the woods, Bill who claims it was his childhood experience of looking for hen’s eggs on their free-range chicken farm that sharpened his eye for white balls, is the Society’s bloodhound.

About the choral reference in our name: Doug and Ron have the habit of breaking into songs, some rowdy, others of classical nature and some that the LPGA would find utterly offensive. It is not the words that bug Bill, but what the other two call ‘close harmony’. As close as ‘darn’ is to swearing! Their duet of ‘If you go down to the woods today’ is enough to scatter the rabbits living on hole #14; ducks flee when they begin ‘Row, row, row your boat’; meadowlarks fall silent as they render a version of ‘Blue skies over . . .’ Thankfully, the songsters have not yet taken up Golf Rap!

As colourless as the singing is, the commentary before and after a ball is struck, is merciless. Being damned by faint praise is not allowed in the Society, so the uproarious shout when a member makes par is a well-meant cheer. A birdie would likely mean a free coffee for the team, but it has yet to happen. Maybe next year. One of Doug’s favourite exclamations after hitting a ball over the green for the second time is “And to think, I gave up the Ministry for this!” to which Ron will say, under his breath, “Amen!”

This season ended on a high and low note for the society. Doug had a too-close encounter with a lawnmower and lost a toe. This effectively ended his season but we have already heard rumours that being a little lighter on one foot may actually cure that slice, er, fade of his. On the bright side, Ron won the prestigious honour of having his name inscribed on the Bill Busch trophy as the male senior who best exhibited the true spirit of Senior’s Golf at Highview.

The members of the Highview Ball Hunting and Choral Society will meet again next spring. They will appear with a new club or two, a fresh batch of golf balls and firm determination to play good golf. And if not that, just to enjoy the camaraderie and fresh air. Fore!