The WeekEnd Golfer

OK, I'll admit it. There have been a couple of occasions in my golfing life when I've been frustrated enough to actually throw a club.

I know. You're not supposed to do it. While club throwing was a common occurrence 50, 30, 20 or maybe even 10 years ago, it is definitely not acceptable now - although I did hear some geezers talking about it on a recent visit to an old established private club. (Note: a "golf geezer" is anybody who either is, acts, or looks more than a couple years older than me.)

Anyway, to get back to the point. I was having a particularly bad few holes during a round a couple of weeks ago. And there I was, about 20 yards from the hole with my lob wedge in hand. Predictably I pitched it short ...or maybe it was long (I can't really remember)... and I ended up in the gnarly rough above the hole.

Since I was already looking at double bogey there was no way I was going to walk all the way over to the cart to get a different club. So I tried chipping with the LB.

One double-hit later I was steamed enough to let it fly.

Yes, that's right. I'm sorry to say I actually threw the thing. It was quite a calculated throw of course, well away from any of my fellow golfers. But en route it wrapped around a tree and snapped in half.

I can't say I was sorry it broke. I've never had much luck with the LB anyway, and am quite content to just open up my sand wedge when I need more loft. But I'm not proud about getting angry like that, and I've promised myself never to let it happen again.

As luck would have it, on the next hole - a medium length par 3 over water - I hit my tee shot into the pond. And then proceeded to chip it in from the drop area with my sand wedge.

That's right - a par. I don't think my broken lob wedge liked that one little bit.