Captain's Day (2 page)

Mr Captain now flicked an imaginary speck of dust from the lapel of his blazer and turned from the full length bedroom mirror to his wife. “How do I look, Millicent?”

The question was superfluous; he had no real need to ask. He knew how he looked. The mirror had told him. Immaculate, from top to toe. The burgundy captain's blazer with the gold club badge emblazoned on the breast pocket, just enough spotless white handkerchief protruding from the pocket, the starched white shirt, the burgundy and yellow striped Sunnymere club tie, the grey plus four trousers, the rather racy-looking flat cap and matching socks in the tartan of the Campbell clan (Mr Captain had no connection with the Campbells, apart from a fondness for their condensed cream of chicken soup, but the colours and design of the tartan appealed to him), the whole ensemble was just so.

“
You look very smart, darling,” said Millicent. “I am very proud of you.”

And so you might well be, thought Mr Captain, so you might well be. After all it isn't every member of a golf club who aspires to its captaincy. One has to be made of the right stuff. He was made of the right stuff, he was sure. Hadn't he proved as much with the introduction and implementation of his Captain's Project?

It was the tradition at Sunnymere Golf Club that during his year of office the incumbent captain implemented a project of his choice, known as the Captain's Project, which would be of lasting benefit to the club. The captain could choose anything he liked within reason. Two years ago the then Mr Captain, by raising the necessary finance through donations, raffles, pro-ams, quad-ams, sponsored golfathons, car boot sales and other fund-raising activities, and enlisting voluntary labour from amongst the membership, had planted the 2000 new trees that now bordered the third, fifth, eighth and seventeenth fairways, and which in years to come would both enhance the beauty of the course whilst making it slightly more difficult to negotiate.

Last year's Mr Captain had vowed to double the membership of the junior section and to further encourage junior golf in any way possible, with particular regard to coaching the youngsters in the etiquette and skills of the game. Not only did he more than double the membership but he took the juniors to a runner's up spot in the County Championships, their highest placed finish in the club’s history.

Mr Captain knew that such projects were beyond his scope, even if it would benefit the course to have a further 2000 trees planted or to double the junior membership yet again. Truth to be told it was less trees and fewer junior members cluttering up the course that he was in favour of, not more; he had enough trouble with the former as things already stood and more than enough dislike of the latter. Besides his Captain's Project would be far more beneficial to the club than a few straggly trees and even more loud-mouthed spotty youths.

Initially it had been his intention to give lady golfers unlimited access to the course at all times. Such a revolutionary act would not only have put him in the good books of the lady members for ever more, and especially in those of his wife, but it would also have got right up the noses of the male members, the vast majority of whom he didn't get on with.

The complete banning of mobile phones on the golf course had been another strong possibility (at the moment they could be carried provided they were switched off). If Mr Captain had had his way he would have banned mobile phones not only from the golf course but from the face of the earth. He had never been able to find anything in favour of them and had no trouble finding several things against them, the main one being that it was a mobile phone which had caused him to have an air shot when it had rung just as he had started his downswing on his approach shot to the tenth in the Sunnymere Silver Salver last year. Not only had it cost him a penalty shot but probably the competition as well, as following the incident his game had gone completely to pieces, and far from a victory had resulted in him ripping up his card for the third week running.

A third possibility, and the hot favourite for a long time, was to ban Sunday competitions. A dedicated churchgoer, Mr Captain would have liked to have banned all Sunday play, and would have done so had he not felt that such an action would not be tolerated by the membership, despite it being a Captain’s Project.

In the normal course of events all the club competitions, both monthly medals and majors, were played on Saturdays and Sundays, split approximately fifty-fifty between the two. It had been Mr Captain’s intention to move all the Sunday competitions to Saturdays, thus leaving people free to attend church.

He had no axe to grind with people who played golf on Sunday, indeed he often played on Sundays himself, but when he did he always ensured that he attended morning service when he played in the afternoons and evening service when he played in the mornings.

When he had made known his intentions it was pointed out to him, again by the ever vigilant club secretary, that the majority of the membership would not attend church even if they had all day Sunday free in which to do so plus the rest of the week as well, and that for many of them it would take the introduction of pole dancers in the aisle and a free bar and buffet in the vestry in order for them to attend, but in answer to this Mr Captain had replied that if people chose to be heathens then that was their lookout.

In the end however, and as appealing as these three candidates for his Captain's Project were, he came up with an even more worthy idea. To rid the club once and for all of bad language. In particular the 'F' word and the 'C' word. But the 'T' word also, along with the 'S 'word and all the 'B' words. When he had made his plans known, immediately upon taking office, the General Committee, whilst agreeing it would be a very good thing, had expressed grave doubts about its worthiness as a Captain's Project. Not a few of the members had said it was unreasonable, a few more thought it unworkable.

Mr Captain however would have none of their objections and had insisted that making the fairways and greens 'F' and 'C' word free would benefit the entire membership of the club and 'not just people who liked trees and juniors'. There was no further discussion. No argument. Nor could there be. The Captain could choose as his project anything within reason which he saw fit, and he saw his Captain's Project as being well within reason and very fit indeed. A notice had been put up on the club notice board the following day.

Mr Captain

The first two golfers to read the notice were Greg Coleman and Richard Irwin.

“
Fuck me!” said Coleman.

“
The cunt!” said Irwin.

Fortunately Mr Captain had not been in earshot when the aggrieved pair had uttered the newly-banned expletives. However he was well within earshot on the occasion that eighteen handicapper Bradley Tomkinson leapt in the air in delight and yelled, “A fucking birdie, it's a fucking birdie!” on chipping in from the edge of the second green. For this the unfortunate Tomkinson had been hauled before the committee and handed a final warning. Since then more than a dozen such final warnings had been issued. One poor golfer, already on a final warning, and who only erred the second time because he said 'Fuck!' when he dropped his sand wedge on the ingrowing toenail of his big toe, had been expelled.

Bad language on the golf course had plummeted. It still occurred, but those who used it now did so with discretion and not a little guile. For example when putting his name down for a club competition a golfer prone to using the odd swear word would ensure that he chose a starting time well away from that chosen by Mr Captain, thus giving himself the best possible chance of not being overheard if and when an errant swear word should accidentally pop out, which it is almost bound to, golf being golf.

After a final glance in the mirror Mr Captain breathed a contented sigh, pecked his wife on the cheek goodbye and left for the golf club to enjoy to the full his Captain’s Day.

8.30 a.m.

D Bagley (8)

G Chapman (9)

A Arbuthnott (11)

Shortly before 8.30 Mr Captain took up position beside the first tee. From there he would greet and see safely on their way each group of three golfers at the commencement of their round. Once the first threesome had reached the ninth green his intention was to operate between the first tee and the beer tent, still attending to his welcoming duties at the first tee whilst making time to enquire of each threesome what was their pleasure when they arrived at the beer tent after completing the ninth hole, and ensuring that their pleasure stopped at one drink.

The first threesome of the day, consisting of regular playing partners Des Bagley, Gerry Chapman and Andrew Arbuthnott, was now making its way leisurely to the first tee. All three golfers were looking forward to their round of golf, but especially so Arbuthnott, who felt in his water that this could well be the day he returned a winning card, and now said as much to the others.

“
Your optimism knows no bounds, Andrew,” observed Bagley, on hearing Arbuthnott's hopeful prognostication.

“
No I can really sense it, Baggers. It was there the moment I woke up this morning, a sort of gut feeling, and it's been there ever since.”

“
Probably indigestion,” said Chapman. “I think I’ve got some Alka-Seltzer tablets in my bag if you’d like a couple.”

Arbuthnott shook his head. “Not indigestion Gerry. Just the deep conviction that I’m going to pull it off today.”

“
Arby you haven’t won a competition in years, and even then it wasn’t one of any account, why should today be any different?” reasoned Chapman, forever the pragmatist.

“
No I always play well on Captain's Day,” Arbuthnott insisted. “I was well in the running last year until I had that disaster at the sixteenth. The big occasion seems to bring out the best in me. And I'm really up for it this year; get the name of Andrew Arbuthnott up in gold at last.”

Arbuthnott wanted to see his name on one of the roll of honour boards displayed in the clubhouse in tribute to the winners of major competitions almost as much as Henry Fridlington wanted his Captain’s Day to be a huge success. His father had won the President’s Putter competition and his father before him had triumphed in the Anderson Bowl and Arbuthnott felt he was letting the family name down by not being the third generation of the Arbuthnott dynasty to be so honoured.

“
The only way you're ever going to get your name up in gold Arby is if you buy a shop and get a sign writer to write it over the top,” said Chapman, with an air of cruel certainty that now caused doubt to enter Arbuthnott's mind for the first time that day.

“
You'll see, Gerry, you’ll see,” said Arbuthnott, turning away and cutting short the conversation lest Chapman should say anything else that might sow a seed of doubt in his mind.

Although Mr Captain was undoubtedly the most unpopular captain there had ever been in the history of Sunnymere Golf Club the entire membership of the club treated him with due deference. The only person who had not shown the captain this respect, a member not only new to the club but also new to the game of golf, and who obviously wasn't aware of golf club protocol, had very quickly been informed that it is the position of Mr Captain that commands the respect of the membership and not the person holding that position. From then on he had treated Mr Captain with the same respect accorded him by all the other members. Thus it was that on arriving at the first tee Arbuthnott, Chapman and Bagley all greeted the captain with a dutiful chorus of “Good morning, Mr Captain.” Arbuthnott felt so chipper about his chances that he followed up the salutation with a pleasantry he wouldn’t normally have wasted on the present Mr Captain. “Nice day for it.”

“
Isn't it just,” beamed Mr Captain, then, with no little pride, disclosed the secret he had been keeping on the back burner up until now. “Incidentally, I'm having the day filmed, so be sure to keep a sharp lookout for the cameras.”

Arbuthnott was impressed. “Filmed?”

“
It is a proud day in my life, Andrew. A very proud day. To be Mr Captain on Captain's Day is something that only happens to a man maybe once in his lifetime, consequently I decided to have the occasion recorded on video for posterity. “

“
What an excellent idea.”

“
I thought so,” said Mr Captain, and went on, “Now be sure not to forget the Nearest the Pin competition on the thirteenth. Three of the ladies have kindly agreed to do the measuring this year.”

Bagley expressed surprise on hearing this. Traditionally boys from the junior section had always been entrusted with this task on Captain’s Day. “The ladies, Mr Captain?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“
Yes, nice to get the ladies involved, isn't it.”

“
I mean the juniors usually do it.”

“
I decided to ring the changes; and it is my wish that the ladies do the honours this time round.”