Off The Boil?

Well, you know what?  Wonder of wonders, the blog is starting with golf for the second consecutive week, my golf, so it’s not a game of any great distinction.  I hadn’t played for two or three weeks because of the heat and it was good to get out again in manageable temperatures.

I hit some decent shots but my putting was abysmal, tiddler after tiddler going astray, all in the same direction.  So, what does that tell you?  In the absence of yipping, an inadvertent, uncontrollable jerk of a stroke, it means, surely, that a single, simple correction to the set-up is all that’s needed.  Here’s hoping I remember that next time out.  And concentrate properly on the task in hand.

One of the good things was that my two playing partners, who have both had knee operations (avoid if at all possible is the advice I gleaned), managed 18 holes, one in a buggy and one walking, with her granddaughter caddying.  One was very respectable (32 points) and the other was so outstanding that she won the competition with 41 points.  Appropriately enough it was the Grandmothers competition and it was the first time she had walked a full round for a couple of years.  Amazing.  Many congrats.

Apologies Sue C but I didn’t take any photos.

You know how everybody’s always banging on about having the best players playing each other more often, going head to head – though usually that doesn’t happen because, like last week in Memphis, Rory was rubbish and Scottie was supreme, blitzing the field to win by eight shots.  And if it hadn’t been one of those poxy small field, no cut jobs, Rory would have been on his way home on Friday instead of Sunday.*

Anyway, I’m not particularly interested in these FedEx playoffs, all played in sweltering heat, with prize funds that are off the charts.  Ho hum!  Scottie’s won another three million.  Well done.  Hope he’s investing wisely.

Am I just becoming jaded and cynical?  Perhaps.  But sporting greed is becoming less and less appealing.

Which brings us neatly to the great god football, gobbler up of everything in its path.  Of course it should leave the summer to other sports, like cricket, athletics, anything really but it’s already well under way in Scotland and the lower leagues and if you watch Sky Sports it’s awash with transfer news; some teams will be unrecognisable to begin with and Totspurs have been spending madly and selling too.  Who the hell’s left?

This might be my last season of trawling up and down to N17.  There are lots of matches scheduled for half five on a Saturday evening and it looks as though Mondays at eight o’clock will feature regularly too, not the most fan-friendly of kick-off times.  Still, it’ll be worth it if the football brings us joy,  something that’s been missing from the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium for the last couple of seasons.  Frankly, we’ve been subjected to dross for far too long and deserve a break.

Three ever hopeful Spurs fans (from left to right): P, John aka The Oracle and Essie. We’ll be back for more this season.

My expectations for this season are simple:  some entertaining football please (that includes defenders who know what they’re doing, can read a game and don’t give away daft goals) and perhaps a cup run, maybe two.  Results matter – we fans didn’t care that the 2025 Europa League final against Manchester United was dire because we won – but we’ve had enough of the rubbish and want to watch some decent football.  Is that too much to ask:  to enjoy the football?

Perhaps it is.  Perhaps enjoyment is at complete odds with professional sport where you’re judged entirely on results and winning is everything.  In the end, in most competitions, there can be only one winner, so where does that leave the rest of us?  Miserable losers?  Seeking consolation somewhere?  Or satisfied that we gave our all, tried our best and will crack on again next time?   That would be a start.

Admittedly, it’s tougher to be sanguine when the nearest, fiercest neighbours are the reigning champions, crowing, glowing and strutting with a confidence born of success.  I’m not expecting them to crash and burn, so the teeth will undoubtedly be gritted on a regular basis.  Hope my new crown can cope with the grinding…

On the domestic front, my new kettle has arrived and the jury’s still out but I was delighted to see that the mother and son combo of Shashi and Sanjay of the Spice Kitchen were on Dragons’ Den this week.  I can’t remember where I came across them but their range of lovely, fragrant spices make great meals – and pressies.  The dragons were very impressed but declined to invest because they didn’t want to spoil the magic by imposing demanding, money-driven targets.  Hope Shashi and Sanjay take it as the compliment it was and go from strength to strength in their own way.

Kettle and spice.

*Interestingly enough, Rory, so at odds with his game last week, produced a first round of 64, six under par, this week, to share the lead.  Scottie laboured to a 72, two over par, not bad considering he was four over after seven.

Golf!  Just when you think it’s predictable, it reminds you that it’s a four-letter word.