Golf. Monday April 11, 2010

I always maintain that I am the perfect wife for Steve. Just as well really. But my reason for saying this is that I introduced him to the game of golf. Not only did I encourage him to take it up, I never complain when he wants to play, and although my playing days are pretty much over, the money invested in his hobby is money reasonably well spent as far as I am concerned. (Note that I only go so far as to say reasonably well spent).

There is another dimension to this point. I love big sporting occasions and probably with the exception of Tiddlywinks and Poker, could quite happily sit through most games. For example, I could hardly tell you the rules of American Football but love the Super Bowl. Similarly the FA Cup for football and the World Series for Baseball. I just love the idea that there are a bunch of athletes at the top of their game competing for a big prize.

This past weekend was the US Masters Golf from Augusta Georgia. Steve made it a mission to find out where he could watch the play on Saturday and Sunday and discovered that it was showing on TV at the local driving range here in Sao Paulo. You have to remember that we still have no furniture (13 weeks and still counting) so no TV. We did try and upload a proxy service from the UK but a degree in computer engineering is needed to get that gig sorted and the helpdesk is closed on Saturdays. Four hours of trying and several expletives later, Steve gave up.

So it was off to the driving range. We arrived only to discover that we were an hour early. No problem. We were handed the remote control, found the appropriate station and waited. We even had the foresight to check that the station was available. Relief all around.

It is amazing after having seen no TV for 3 months, what absolute drivel is entertaining. We sat through a makeover show with a golf theme and a half hour of John Daly. Very entertaining, but all in Portuguese so most of it was totally lost in translation.

We waited for the start and over the next few hours, happily watched the golf. We had snacks, dinner, and although the chairs were so uncomfortable that they would do a village hall proud, we thoroughly enjoyed our four hours of golf. In the middle of the afternoon we had a phone call from the security company to say that our burglar alarm had gone off. No problem – we sent Marcelo to go and sort it out. It gave him something to do instead of just waiting for us. At the end of it, the waiters got a big tip and even being under the flight path of the local airport didn’t dampen our enthusiasm.

And so to Sunday. Lee Westwood was in the lead and the hopes of the United Kingdom were upon his shoulders. We arrived, settled into our (same) seats and were welcomed like returning heroes by a number of locals that recognized us from the day before. It helped that the same waiter was on duty and so hopeful of another large tip, fussed around us like long lost friends. People even tried to engage us in conversation which I have to say was pretty futile, Firstly because we could barely understand them and secondly, because it interrupted our viewing. We made what we felt were appropriate noises and nods in the right place and they left us to it.

For most of the time I was the only female actually watching the golf and it was pretty obvious who we were supporting. The group swelled as the match reached a climax but the weight of expectation was too great for poor old Lee Westwood and the local favourite Phil Mickleson won.

At least it wasn’t Tiger. That would have been too much for a girl to bear.