The beauty of golf can be found in the way the game transcends the border control and immigration of almost every country in the World. Whilst the game itself is rubber stamped by the rules that the R&A and USGA govern it by, the individuals and the cultures that adopt them are incredibly varied and colourful! In my twenty years consulting with various golfing bodies, tour players and individual amateurs I have been fortunate enough to visit some great countries and witness how golfers themselves can vastly differ as the continents that equally separate them can do.

Moscow, Russia

I served as the Director of Golf and consulted with the Russian Golf Federation in Moscow in 2001. I can always remember the departing Director of Golf, South African Nigel Roscoe showing me around the facility and hotel grounds that blanketed The Moscow Country Club. Nigel was very gracious and took the time to give me a tour of this superb Trent Jones Sr. set up located forty five minutes north of the city. Walking out of the hotel we made our way over to the ‘recreational area’ in which there was a park like set up with benches and seats waiting for anybody wanting to picnic outside. Just beyond the park was the ‘fake beach’ with its a-joining ‘fake sea’ ready to capture that eclipse of a summer that Moscow briefly enjoys every year. No question, I was impressed at the length the local government had gone to in creating this feat of modern engineering.

I hadn’t meant to ask an awkward question but it was prompted by the imbecilic email my brother had sent me on the evening of my arrival. The title read: ‘Well done Bond, now you have reached enemy lines in Mother Russia it is your mission to extract the required information and make your way safely back to HQ….Love Bro x’. Spies, information and HQ’s………why wouldn’t I ask Nigel a question about the Mafia? It was the obvious thing to do!

I picked a moment in which I thought the question might be received in a relaxed fashion; we were walking down a long windowless corridor en route to the Olympic sized gymnasium when I softly enquired…..

‘Erm Nigel’, I nervously opened up with ‘Obviously in the West we hear all these Mafia stories with cloak and dagger antics but does any of that really go on here?’ With a look that indicated I had violated some sort of life insurance policy he ushered in close and aggressively whispered between gritted teeth: ‘Jesus man, these walls have ears, EARS I tell you…. never, never, never ask these questions again do you hear me!’ Stunned by his anxious tone I immediately scanned the area for anything that looked like a microphone….I saw nothing. And so I learnt pretty quickly not ask questions that were based on stereotypical beliefs since they turn out to be, in this case, astonishingly true.

One day myself and Jeff Combs (the lowest handicapper at the club) were asked to play against Russia’s finest amateurs; I was playing a bit of golf in those days and could rely on myself for at worst a level par outing. And so we turned up to the first hole at MCC which was a modest par 4 of about 400yrds. As we waited for the group ahead to hit their approach shots the Russian pair turned up and made their way onto the tee box flanked by a small following of fans. After a brief quick and firm handshake the biggest Russian player (I’m only 5ft 7in) started to make practice swings so close to my ankles he almost had the hem of my trousers caught in the vacuum of his club head. As I glanced up to give him my best ‘what do you think you are doing?’ look he was already simultaneously staring at me with eyes bigger than dinner plates grunting like some sort of bull viciously sizing up a matador. It wasn’t the customary ‘play well guys’ and move on – it was a re-enactment of two boxers nose to nose before the bell goes off. This guy was about to play golf like an ice hockey player playing chess and I was the pawn!

When the fact was later explained to me that since I was a professional the Russians would view this as a litmus test for their own golf development (and apparently testosterone) I suddenly grasped their aggressive, overly competitive tee box ritual as something quite innocent.

Needless to say these guys blew the ball out of the park with both of them having more hits than The Beatles in the first five holes; where as I was cruising at about two under through six moving like a Mig under a radar whilst moving my demeanor 360 deg in the opposite direction to theirs!  It was a no contest to be honest and I’m happy to report that the match ended with handshakes and smiles all round with no divot fight on the 15^th green.

Mount Juliet, Ireland

My wife and I lived in Ireland for three years whilst I directed David Leadbetters academy at the beautiful Mount Juliet in Kilkenny. I remember taking a phone call in the office one day from a rather excited American who spewed down the phone that he was coming to MJ to take a lesson with us at the then famous David Leadbetter Golf Academy; his flight was booked, his taxi was booked and the hotel was booked and all with the intention of travelling four thousand miles for his instruction. And so, I booked him in a full two months in advance of his arrival.

One week later the phone went in the office, it was the American caller again, we’ll call him Ed. Ed called to ask if everything was ok and if he was still in a holding position for two months time; I told him he was and we were looking forward to seeing him and hoped the weather would hold out, it was Ireland after all….’Great!’ he exclaimed.

Two weeks after this phone call a fax reeled its way out of the machine: ‘Hi its Ed, just reminding you all not to think I’m not coming….I am! Looking forward to this so much, told all my friends, can’t wait!’ This had now become a bit of a standing joke in the office, when, where and how would Ed pop up next?? A week later Jill from marketing came into the academy and asked if we had heard of an American called ‘Ed’ – coincidently we had. ‘He mentioned that he was coming and you weren’t to forget his appointment ok’. Well, I think you get the picture now. Ed plagued us right up to the day he actually arrived at Mount Juliet.

8:50 AM……. Ed walked into our office, we were waiting for him. Myself and Todd Pyle (the Academy Director) buggied Ed down to the range who at this point had uncontrollable verbiage about his journey and quest to be here at this time, with us and about to take his lesson on the hallowed turf of Mount Juliet. We all dismounted the cart and I took care of Ed’ s bag making sure it was placed onto the bag stand perfectly; I glanced up to see Ed enthusiastically swinging his arms around his body like a whirlybird whilst squatting up and down elevator style; evidently he was warming up. Todd spoke ‘Ed, when you have finished your erm, whatever if you could hit a few wedges for us, sevens and the fives that would be great – we can then film you up’. ‘Sure thing’ replied Ed as he pulled his wedge from his bag and with one last glance, Ed announced that he was in heaven and couldn’t wait to get going. He gave a glinted smile, addressed his first shot and then aimed down the range.

I knew I had heard something but to be honest I was so focused on Ed with all the previous two months build up I didn’t even bother to look around. Ed drew back the club and reached the top of his backswing when BANG!!! Ed was now on the ground like a sack of potatoes after being hit straight in the head, on the fly by a ball carved in from the 8^th fairway – for a moment, and I mean JUST for a moment, Todd and I looked at each other in both amusement and complete disbelief. Ed hadn’t even started his downswing and yet before we all knew it here he was on the deck, completely unconscious not knowing whether it was New York or New Year. The irony was ludicrous. Without further hesitation Todd had his T Shirt off and was clamping it onto the poor man’s skull in an effort to plug the gushing wound which was at least four inches in length. Poor Ed, he never did get his lesson with us at Mount Juliet.

When you book your next golf break with Your Golf Travel just remember that the game remains constant yet the people that play it are……colourful to say the least!!

Happy Golfing and until next time,

Nick Bradley

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