Golf is perhaps the saddest of obsessions. How any sane person could enjoy hitting a stupid ball into a hole is something that I will never understand. Healthy it is not and these mindless people have no other topic of conversation. Yet, having said that, I must admit that I take an interest in the success of one particular golfer, Thea Brooks, and that’s because I’ve known her almost from babyhood. The Brooks were our neighbours in Raynesford and Athena, as she then was, went through school in the same class as our youngest son. She was in and out of our house like one of the family.
But who would have thought that she would take up golf and that she would reach international status while still in her teens. The Brooks were the least sporting of families, part of an influx of earth-people and small craftsmen into our former hydro settlement. The empty houses, cheap to buy and cheap to rent, were the lure for these people. They came in a rush and most of them seemed to live on next to nothing. Those of us who had been there for some years were not too happy about it. We were outnumbered by a bunch of weirdos as we thought. And yet mostly they caused us no trouble and soon they were just part of the scenery.
The Brooks held some far-out ideas and dabbled in alternative medicine but don’t get me wrong. They were nice people, not into drugs, do anything for you, yet every bit as strange as all the rest. And Athena was no different. Bare-footed at home, with ankle-length black dresses, pirate earrings, jangles of bangles, and a gypsy head scarf. Even in the enforced conformity of her school uniform she still somehow contrived to look exotic and Romany.
Her penchant was for hugging trees. It was enjoying a vogue among those people at that time. I had her on about it on numerous occasions but her standard come-back was always, “You talk to your plants. So what’s the difference?”
Of course I talk to my plants! As I kept telling her, talking to plants has scientific backing. Hugging trees doesn’t! I can’t remember where I read it but trials have shown that plants grow faster and are healthier if you talk to them. And they like music too. I have run my own trials and find that, although they respond to almost any music, their preference is for the Baroque. Mine too as it happens.
People find it hard to accept the idea of awareness in plants. You’d think it would be obvious. Some plants have such an immediate and dramatic response to touch. Acacia trees in Africa send chemical alarm signals to the surrounding acacias when they are browsed by giraffes. These other acacias get busy right away manufacturing bitter substances to make their leaves unpalatable. Plants are much smarter than people realise.
Somewhere along the line, Athena has become Thea and her public image has been made over. She has clearly had lessons not only in golfing but also in deportment and grooming. She has acquired a tribe of hangers-on, a manager, people to handle her publicity, minders to protect her from an admiring public. They have tried hard to play down the fact that she plays bare-footed but that is the very thing that has caught the public fancy. They claim that it is not an attention- seeking ploy but necessary due to an ankle injury that continues to give trouble. That’s rubbish! Athena in a careless moment said that it’s kinder to the grass.
I may be cynical but I find it hard to accept her as a golfing prodigy. Even I, who prefer to know nothing about golf, can see that she is no great shakes as a golfer.
You will be aware that she is being called ‘Lady Luck’. Luck seems to follow her and bad luck dog her opponents. While her drives from the tee do not cover all that much distance in the air they roll for a seemingly miraculous distance. Others on the same round tend to find that their ball stays exactly where it lands and to have their ball land in the rough is for it never to be seen again. There have been protests, accusations that she has to be using non-regulation balls. Tests have always proved otherwise. The fuss simply keeps her name before the public. Some disgruntled players have asked her to swap balls with them during a round but it makes no difference to the outcome. I have actually seen this happen on television and noticed that Athena rubbed the exchange ball thoroughly with her hands as if to give it her scent.
There have even been charges of witchcraft with her unconventional family background dragged up and to see one of her longer putts change course seemingly of its own volition could easily give one that impression or again when her opponent’s, surely impossible to miss, putt stops at the very brink of the cup as if afraid to fall in.
Her behaviour before a tournament has given weight to these witchcraft claims. While every other player will take the opportunity to play a few pre-tournament rounds on an unfamiliar course, Athena\Thea simply walks once over the length of each hole, barefooted naturally, apparently taking the lie of the land and muttering to herself. She insists on doing this seemingly inadequate preparation strictly by herself. She is so secretive about it that many people are firmly convinced that she is casting spells at this time. They are wrong.
I am satified that I can fairly claim to have laid the foundation of Athena’s success. It appears that I sowed much better than I knew back in those.Raynesford days. Athena’s secret is, of course, the grass. Grass can make a big difference to the rolling resistance. It can help a ball along or it can hinder it. Grass can divert or stop a putt although a close-shaven green must find helping Athena a herculean task. Athena is not muttering to herself. She is making herself agreeable and gaining the co-operation of the link’s permanent residents.
I myself, have achieved quite a good standing with the plants in my own garden, they’re family and naturally they love me, but Athena has taken communication so much further and has developed an instant rapport with complete strangers that I can only envy.
And I say, “Good on her,” although I feel that much of the credit should be mine. I was the one who pointed her in the right direction. She’d be hard put to hug a million clumps of grass.