Fowler's Fluid Fatalities

Short funds resulted in small punting weekends. Following the formidable Fitzpatrick (again) and the head of the Fed Ex, King Kisner (for the first time) proved to be unsuccessful. Ruinous rounds of par and plus two killed Kisner's (and my) hopes of being alive come Sunday.

However, a fortunate fillip from a fillys double provided pre-Sunday nails. I decided to use only one nail. A £10 double on Willett at 13/10, leading, and Fowler at 10/3, 2 behind and furiously strong. Willett almost relinquished his grasp on the lead with some of the usual final day flopping to which I had become accustomed.

Cabrero-Bello almost sneaked in an eagle on the water-lined last to take a one shot lead, but couldn't quite, only managing a birdie to tie the lead. At this point I was slightly worried. But then, the un-withering Willett stepped up and, with testicles the size of baked potatoes, smashed in a nervy downhill eighteen footer for birdie and the outright win.

Elation! The first leg of my double was in and I was looking set. Fowler was in great form, and he only had to overcome the Danny Lee.

By the time the coverage had started they were level and Fowler was looking fantastic. The Californian hero had gained ten or fifteen yards of driving distance since the last stats and was blasting 330 yarders with accuracy and ease. The Waste Management Phoenix Open looked to be Fowlers for the first time. With two woefully water lined holes to play Rickie was two shots ahead. He was 1/12 in the betting and his nearest competitor, Matsuyama was 20/1.

Fleeting considerations of £5 to make certain my profit were dismissed.

As Fowler stepped up to the 17th tee, I decided to share my bet (below) with friends for the first time. Seconds later a monstrous and unnecessary drive ran in to the water. Balls. Fowler dropped, and magnificent Matsuyama birdied for a two shot swing to level it up.

Going on to the final hole and my recently calm cardiac facilities now threatened to arrest. Matsuyama plopped it in to the middle of the fairway and Rickie need to put the pressure on. A beastly drive looked to be in danger of going in the Church Pew bunkers, but fortune favoured the foolhardy Fowler and his ball managed to find the fairway, forty yards ahead of Matsuyama. Hideki put in a solid to 18 feet to force Rickie in to action. A stunning wedge to 8 feet lumped the pressure back in to Matsuyama.

Now even closer, Matsuyama seemed to have more work to do than ever. Fast and big breaking, this putt was horrible. The plucky 24 Year old Japanese superstar was up to the task however, and battered it in forcing Fowler to make his for a play-off. To rapturous adoration Rickie holed out for a sudden death play-off to begin.

My literary prowess is only so advanced. It is certainly not advanced enough to be able to adequately describe the trials and tribulations that went on inside my body over the next hour or so. Twice replaying 18 changed nothing except making Matsuyama have two putts to win it and not make them. Moving on to the 10th spelled good fortunes. Rickie's record favoured him and so did the crowd. Once again, fate was on the side of Matsuyama and Fowler missed off the tee. Some serious scrambling skills later resulted on another drawn hole. 

Now, on to the main event. Back to 17. Unlike Snedeker, Fowler had the presence of mind to take a different club when playing a hole which he had driven poorly in the past. Right club, wrong shot. An over draw put Rickie in the wet stuff again. My face was in the wet stuff too as tears streamed down my emotionally invested face.

Even so, he still had a putt to return to 18, but it wasn't to be. Hatred for Hideki bloomed and rage for Rickie blossomed. The post tournament conference had Rickie blabbing and all negative feelings were abandoned. Financial firepower was not lining up. The Stars were yet to align.

Foul Farmers "Insurance"

This was a massive week. The Farmers Insurance Open. The Qatar Masters. The Singapore Open, and a HOT tip from the web.com (Adam Svensson). Four-Fold fortuity seemed inevitable.

The Commercial Bank Qatar battery included Fitzpatrick, Peter Hason, Jaidee, Pieters, Wood, and Johan Carlsson. Thirteenth and twentieth were the best to be mustered, a hopeful slump on Mickleson garnered no fruit, and a chunk on Day mustered no dreams either.

Final-day fear set in and I attempted to up the ante. Doubles were flying about like nobody’s business, Day and Hung-An disappointed all. Grace and Dustin started well, but as usual (for him and me) strong finishing was not to be found. The former power-lifter and long-time PGA Tour workhorse KJ Choi found himself on my final day staking plan. The final, and weakest string to my bow was a £1 ew flutter on Snedeker @100s for some "Insurance". I almost seemed responsible.

Play was already suspended, and Sned looked invigorated during a post-suspension-pre-recommencement interview. SuperSned threw out the round of the century. A three-under 69 in those conditions would have been difficult for Zeus to muster. Sned was one behind the lead, and a firm 8/13 favourite.

But PGA Tour organisers had other ideas for Greg’s aspirations of economic prosperity. They called play for the day.

Thoughts swam through my head like sharks beneath an emaciated seal. Doubt furrowed my brow, a cashout figure of £54 invigorated my throbbing thoracic nerve. Scared of flipping a coin for the decision, I checked the local weather, Winds seemed to be extremely down from the day before, and I took the effective 40/1 £1ew win, happy as Harold.

Obviously, goof decisions are not in my form, and Snedeker eventually won, not having to play on the Monday, and KJ Choi had a horrific forty footer to force the play off, effectively costing me £73 and proving that again, cashout is for mugs,

Oh well, ammo is ammo.

Post Snedeker Blues

So crushed was I by Snedeker I could hardly think about golf for all of Monday. Later on I decided to have a look.

Jamie Lovemark looked like the Loverman going in to the final round. Three beautiful 65s put my long labouring Lovemark in position for money. Even at low money, £1.50 each way at 70s promised sufficient ammunition for a serious week ahead.

And then came a formerly unknown fluid foe. Water. The life giving miraculous compound, which daily, brings every one of us life, had just destroyed mine. Three double bogeys in seven holes ruined my entire aspirations of future financial fire-power. Nonetheless, I continued to watch as Jason Dufner, renewed in physique and follicular prowess surged through a difficult play off against Lingmerth.

In the same week the European tournament yielded little success.

However, a final pre day double on Rickie and Mickleson looked like serious business. Fowler responded to a double bogey by holing out for eagle from 65 yards. Some of the most brilliant short game work ever continued to hold off the Belgian battering-ram Pieters to get the first leg of the double up and over. All that remained, was for America's darling, the everyman of golf, the left handed hero looked good for a serious settlement. Unfortunately a final day 68 was four shots clear of the required score to reach the play off.

Whiffs of the anti-water movement had started.

2016 Begins

I opted to avoid touching the early season tournaments, waiting until the New Year to start punting again. Early suggestions that Jason Day would take the cake at the Tournament of Champions after a couple of months off went completely wrong. But a late surge by the 2012 Fed Ex Cup Champion Brandt Snedeker left me knowing who I was going to back the following week already.

Early bets were so full of confidence as to be win only, and the new love of my life lead from the start. On the last hole of regulation play he astounded commentators and love interests (me) alike by taking a driver and trying to play a tight draw round a cosy corner with no real run off earlier. Playing from the rough with a good lie, he must have heard Fabian Gomez step up to the plate and nail his birdie to make a superb 62 and take a one shot lead over my man. However, SuperSnedeker got up and down from his laying up to make birdie and force the play off.

To say that my heart was beating was an understatement. I was up at 3AM, knackered and sweating and falling apart. Once again, Snedeker took out the driver. Why, when on the 16th hole of his final regulation round, he had crushed a 3 wood with a massive draw 315 yards, was he opting for the driver! I despaired. I had over £100 invested in SuperSned and I wanted to die. Once again, he was in the rough. Fabian Gomez, saved my bacon by making the same choice. They were both in the right rough, and Gomez had an awful lie on the lip of the bunker. Both elected to lay up, and both made par, I had survived Snedeker's shocking choice to take driver and would live to see the 18th played again.

Snedeker was first to tee off again. Unbearably, he opted for the driver again. My heart sunk. Birdie was his best option. Then, my heart stopped for real. SubSuperSned tried to over-draw his driver and sliced it. He had over 250 to the green and a scandalous lie. Gomez, the brilliant Argentine took a 3 wood, and played the right shot. Middle of the fairway and I could almost feel the bank manager calling and asking for the keys to the house.

Sned practically contributed to global warming so was the amount of greenery he took out with his humming hybrid. An unlucky touch from a branch worsened woes, but SuperSned knocked it to 8 feet and hope sprang eternal. Gomez had a 25 footer for an eagle and the win, almost the same putt as his birdie attempt at the last hole of regulation play. Merciful Gods, he missed it and tapped in for birdie. Sned had the kind of putt that his rhythmic speedy stroke had been knocking in all week. But no, it was not to be, and fortunes were not for me, he missed, handing Fabian Gomez the win. Unable to bear the crushed emotional (and financial) investment, I opted to hide in my tshirt for a while. Going to bed I curled up silently and tried to sleep. I was unsuccessful.

The 1st Tee

My golf punting career is in its infancy. As a teenager, after playing golf for several years, I decided to hate golf. My younger (and more talented brother) did not, and neither did my Dad. Continuing to grow up in a house that glorified a sport that horrified me with it banality was awful. Years of meeting people who knew my brother's golfing greatness and constantly being asked "Oh, do you play as well?" left me a golf  hating Harold. Sunday evenings were ruined by hours of boring men with bad tans and worse dress sense walking around fields, sometimes in the rain.

However, at some point last year, I played a round with some friends at a local golf course (shooting 127) infatuated me with the sport all of a sudden. My new(re)found love for the sport of the middle classes meant that I was taking as many half days at work as possible to play throughout the summer months. Then, watching golf came back. Spieth's two Major wins of 2015 fired up the betting man in me.

£50 on Ireland at 2/1 in the Six Nations gave me some ammunition to start punting on golf. Healthy chunks on Spieth, Dustin Johnson and Mcilroy in the Open Championship left me wanting more after an astonishing 3 man play off, of whom I had none. The US PGA provided no more success and neither did The Players Championship. But by now, I was emotionally and financially invested.

£5 each way @ 14s on Henrik Stenson in the Deutsche Bank looked fantastic until the last day, Fowler was hunting, and so was I (I was playing Deer Hunter 2005). My racing heart meant that I was pulling my shots and so was Stenson. Thankfully, PaddyPower were offering a cashout of 70.25 looked extremely tasty and I took it, and Fowler surged through and won. Cashout, a mugs game, had proved helpful.

A couple of dull weeks left me hurting, but then, the young hero, Matthew Fitzpatrick saved me from a sour patch. £5 ew @ 30s returned just shy of £200 and I was a hero again. From then until the end of the season there was zero success,