Collecting my thoughts...

Ever been to church? I use to go religiously in my youth (pardon the pun). My dad was Catholic and after my communion I served as an altar boy. Those of you who have been will be aware that in the back end of the service a wooden or metal plate would make an appearance often glinting with a range of shrapnel and the occasional crisp note. It's that image that I have recently taken to associate with a round of golf. A bit of a tangent you may think but bear with me.

For me a round is a collection of shots. Some good, some poor. Some resulting in my club being dropped and face clutched as I emit a sigh of anguish. Some seeing my fist deliver a hammer blow into the face of an invisible opponent, supported by a rather unmanly shriek of joy. It is these magic moments that keep all of us coming back for more. The problem is expectation. For an amateur golfer, especially a high handicapper, those arrow straight, pin seeking irons or deft wedge shots that roll close, or for a deafening roar drop in, are rare occurrences just like the five pound note in the collection tray.

Yes there will be some solid pound coin shots as well but they are interspersed with minuscule five pence pieces (seriously what is the point), coppers and the occasional button or bit of fluff. They'll be foreign currency too and you will have no idea how it snuck into your game or where it came from. Be it a slice when your bad shot is a hook or an unexpected dose of the shermans, it will appear out of the blue as randomly as a South African rand on Sunday.

So I've decided to embrace this reality, to savour the good shots and shrug off the bad. To lower my expectations and enjoy those nirvana moments. As luck would have it Saturday's Texas Scramble is the perfect opportunity for a road test. Hallelujah!