Henry, the lanky pentagenarian who regularly outdrives all of us younger, more brutish and decidedly shorter folks, takes a look at the index one par four seventh hole and declares, “I think I am going to cross it.” “We’re only one up, you know,” I wisely refer to the current score we have in our ongoing wager against the two other guys, which includes the mandatory ringgits but more importantly, the massively important bragging rights. “Ya, but I have a good feeling today. Sure can one.”
Golfers are born optimists. Whether we are playing well, or resembling a bunch of disorganised gerbils swinging a club, whenever we are faced with a gargantuan task – like taking on an index one hole with 250 metres to clear water – we will articulate the three most distinct words that separate the men from the gerbils: “Sure can one.” Read More

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