What an absolutely awful weekend. A wicked way to wend
through the days. Zero returns and much dignity and money and confidence and
happiness and life lost. I've had bad weekends but none have been this painful.
There was nothing positive about this weekend.
Rosberg has been heroic lately. He has been winning
all over the shop and must be strutting around the paddock (F1 not horses) with
a strong semi at the thought of being crowned champion at the end of the
season. Were I Nico, I certainly would be walking around with stretched
trousers and a huge smile. I would especially be doing that at the track around
my home, which I had won at three times before.
I would certainly be
looking forward to de-constructing qually with some superior times, forcing the
other drivers to quiver in their little booties. I would zip round my home
town, and batter the morale from everyone else. I would also give Golfing Greg
a little text and tell him to back me to win qually at 9/2 because that kind of
value is just insulting. I would then go an fulfil Greg's dreams. What I would
not do is let a little impetuous Aussie out qualify me and then not even
apologise for losing Greg's money.
Unfortunately I am
not Nico Rosberg. Nico Rosberg is Nico Rosberg. He was not able to do any of
the things that I would do in his position, meaning that the £20 I have on him
to make the fastest qualification lap went right down the place where the
toilet water goes. This was disappointing given that my weekend was already not
going considerably well. I still remained positive. I have also had £5 on
Rosberg to complete the hat-trick (fastest qually, race winner and fastest race
lap). This went down in typical fashion and Rosberg was only to start the race
in 2nd. I used positivity to rationalise this at serving to drift
the price on Rosberg winning.
On Saturday evening I reloaded with a £5 double on
Westwood and Palmer.
I also had a £5 treble with Westood, Palmer and Colin
Montgomerie.
I also had a £5 fourfold with Westood, Palmer, Colin
Montgomerie and Nico Rosberg.
I also had a £5 fivefold with Westood, Palmer, Colin
Montgomerie, Nico Rosberg and England minus three, against Wales in the rugby
international.
Westy was 5/1, Palmer was 9/2, Monty was 11/4, Nico
was 3/1 and England were 10/11. The four bets returned £165, £618.75, £2475 and
£4725 respectively.
I based this idea on how well Westwood had played at
the Masters, and assumed that against a lower class field he may prevail.
Palmer seemed to be on the verge of becoming an
absolute slayer and murdering the competition in Texas. He is a local hero and
I fancied him to cream Spieth and the rest of the competition.
I decided to add Monty to the treble because he was
the defending champ here and Father had backed him on Thursday, and I wanted
some more interest and maybe money.
Rosberg was next and
seemed an obvious choice. Imperious lately and holding a home advantage, well
priced and certain to win. Surely?
Finally, I decided to add England at 10/11 on the
handicap. -3 seemed a seriously short handicap given England’s Grand Slamming,
Triple Crowning battering of the Six Nations, and whilst 10/11 is a short price
I fancied them to bolster my four-fold to a five-fold.
The first part of any of the bets that would complete was
the Grand Prix. A decision was made to not watch the start (or most of) the
Grand Prix. I therefore am not completely certain as to the circumstances of
Nico being in 6th place by the time that I tuned in, but he was. It was a tense
but frankly uninteresting affair with Rosberg not making any ground on
anyone and ultimately not finishing in 1st. This was a bit sore. It
meant that both the four-fold and the five-fold were no good. I was not going
to win thousands of pounds this weekend. I briefly wondered if I should have
covered all of my options and placed a £5 Lucky 31. This of course supposes
that I would even have £155 in the first place, which, in case you were
wondering I do not. Rosberg left me on the verge of self-hatred but I was full
of brunch so I didn’t mind too much.
The final parts of the BMW PGA would cross over with
the Rugby and watching the two at the same time would be impossible, so I just
carried on watching the Golf. Lee Westwood was not on form. Donkey like
attempts at knocking in birdies led to more than one three putt from short
range, and bogies befell Westy. I also had some more multiples including these
two malicious marauding murderous golfists. Lee’s lamentable putting had me
swigging bleach like there was no tomorrow. He was sufficiently over par and it
looked like I wouldn’t be making it even to the double. Before Westy could make
my Sunday any worse I had to go and have dinner with my parents.
During this time, I learnt, pointlessly, that England
had covered their -3 handicap more than sufficiently. England won by 14 points.
They were trailing by three at the end of the 1st half, but thanks
to some spirited play crushed Wales in the second half, winning the half 17-0
and the game 27-13. This was already not set for a consolation prize due to
Nico’s early failure and my multiple betting only.
Westwood continued his hurtful run of awfulness and
came 15th, not even good enough for an ante post place, let alone
winning the tournament for me. I like Lee but at the time I was hating on him
pretty hard. Some fairly atrocious abuse was being chucked his way in the group
chat. I also realised that I didn’t have enough money even to buy rope from
which to hang myself, so would Have to risk being arrested breaking in to my
local Wickes to fashion a solid set of gallows.
After dinner we played several games of cards. In
typical luck of the weekend fashion I was not able to win any of these games. Father
had lent our chainsaw to someone else so I had no chance to use it upon my head
after this shambolic appearance. It would have been easier to drink myself in
to a stupor, but among such company this behaviour is frowned upon.
Father then asked me to back Dufner for him, so I
decided to reload with another small bet on Palmer, to hopefully lessen the
pain were he to win. Early on this didn’t look like a bad bet, and it even
looked as though Kuchar was going to reap some dividends for me. Kuch was
flying through the back nine and looked set to finish well inside the places. A
string of pars and a bogey turned those dreams well and truly in to nightmares
and the happy man of golf left me with an upside down smile.
Watching the rest of the golf then was just kind of
painful. Palmer was going well but not well enough, and then all of a sudden,
the lone star kid, started holing putts. Over the course of the next six or
seven holes Jordan proved why he still deserves to be a short favourite at
every tournament going. He cruised through the field and finished birdie birdie
birdie. He also chipped in from a poor lie in a short-sided position. The
people at CBS decided I would have to watch this clip over and over and over
again. I expressed that this felt as though someone cutting me open and pouring
in kilo after kilo of salt. This is how I had felt for the whole weekend. Rosberg
should have won the Grand Prix. Westwood should have won the golf. So should
Palmer, and Monty, and England did cover their handicaps. I should be rolling
in huge dirty bundles of money from being excellent at betting but instead I am
hating the weekend I have had to suffer, wishing I had chosen instead to spend
it with my head in the grip of a Great White Shark’s mouth. Or perhaps dodging
traffic on the autobahn. Or maybe just setting myself on fire.
I’m not betting on the golf next weekend. This isn’t
one of those I’m not betting on the golf this weekend and then changing my mind
the next minute this is one of those proper I’m not betting on the golf next
weekend decisions. I’ll still do a preview but I won’t be touching it. I need
some time to recover from the emotional trauma I am suffering at my own hands.
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