Teeing it up on the coast of England

Teeing it up on the coast of England Sports Illustrated senior writer John Garrity was a 42-year-old 8-handicapper when he suddenly lost his swing. Since December 1989 he has been looking for it -- a modern-day Odysseus adrift on the troubled waters of swing theory. As Garrity travels the world reporting on golf, he visits as many driving ranges as he can, avoiding the dreaded "mats only" ranges that prevent him from teeing it up.

Monday, July 14

SANDWICH, England -- A splendid heat wave has gripped the south of England, firming up the fairways at Royal St. George's and making me look like a fool for landing at Heathrow Airport with a suitcase full of sweaters and windbreakers. Fortunately, my hotel in Tankerton, a little town on the Thames estuary, benefits from a cool breeze off the water. "Location, location, location," as they say in real estate.

What's next door is important in the golf business, too. I was driving toward Sandwich on the A2990 this afternoon when my range radar began beeping in an urgent way. A few turns later, with a couple of detours through a housing development called Stillwater Park, I found myself hitting balls off a mat at the Herne Bay Golf Driving Range. But not before taking in the big warning signs in the target field: PLEASE DO NOT HIT GOLF BALLS AT THE HOUSES! There were, indeed, houses on the left, behind a tall net. So close were these houses that a player less expert than myself -- a novice, say, or a recent golf-school graduate -- could easily reach them with a hooked mashie.

Reeves' range is facing trouble. John Garrity

"The range has been here for 12 years," owner Chris Reeves told me, "but the last five or six years we've been under the threat of closure because of the development next door."

Neither the town council nor the developers, apparently, had heeded Mr. Reeve's advice that driving ranges and houses make poor neighbors. Two houses were built in the buffer zone to the left of the range, creating an unsafe situation for the residents and a sorry situation for users of the range, who can no longer hit woods or long irons. In fact, if Reeves or his wife judge a player too wild or too inebriated to practice responsibly, they have to pull him or her off the tee line. "It's the younger lads, mostly, who are powerful enough to strike the ball without a clue as to where it's going," Reeves said.

The embattled residents, meanwhile, have secured an injunction. "If we hit the houses again," Reeves said, "they'll close us down."

That would be a shame. The Herne Bay range has a charming clubhouse and pub. Locals stop by on a sunny evening, whack a few balls, and then settle in for laughs and lager at the outdoor tables.

"We're looking for another location," Reeves said, "but we haven't had much luck. We've also looked at the other alternative."

The other alternative?

He smiled sadly: "Ten-pin bowling."

I drove away in a daze, no longer convinced that there will always be an England.

Saturday, July 19

SANDWICH, England -- I have managed to squeeze in a few solitary nines this week. The first, at the Herne Bay Golf Club, was of the hop-the-fence variety. (I arrived so late on Tuesday evening that the golf shop and clubhouse were closed, so I grabbed my clubs and went out on the course for a little reconnaissance.) I returned yesterday afternoon, after third-round play in the Open had concluded. The golf shop was again closed, but the clubhouse lounge was open. I paid the barman a greens fee of £10 and played until dark -- one of a handful of golfers enjoying the pastoral pleasures of the English countryside.

The decommissioned Richborough Power Station near Stonelee. John Garrity

Herne Bay is a simple town course, not a championship layout, but it has what I needed for a good workout: a number of dogleg holes. Under the patient tutelage of my West Coast swing coach, Rob Stanger, I am learning to shape my shots. (In the old days, even before I lost my swing, I had no idea if I was going to hit a hook, a slice or a straight ball.) At Herne Bay I played the doglegs perfectly, bending the ball around trees and bunkers, and put myself in position to make birdies. In fact, I made birdies -- four of them in 18 holes.

I hit most of these good tee shots with my 3-wood, but I pulled the big stick out a few times. On a dogleg right I bombed a power fade into the center of the fairway. On a par-4 that looked almost driveable, I hit my drive long, straight and right into a ditch fronting the green. Finally, on a dogleg left, I hit a snap hook that crossed three fairways and bounced away in the general direction of Whitstable. Teeing up again, I tried the same shot with my 3-wood and hit a tight draw over the trees; my ball bouncing through the fairway into the right rough, a short pitch from the green.

Despite the O.B. and the ball in the ditch, I wound up shooting 78.

My only other outing was at Stonelee's Pay & Play Golf Centre, on the road between Sandwich and Ramsgate. Stonelee's, while not quite in the class of Royal St. George's, enjoys a superlative view of the three giant cooling towers that dominate the Kent coastline. (These towers, at the decommissioned Richborough Power Station, invite speculation about glowing golf balls and three-headed voles, but the locals assure me that it was never a nuclear facility.) I particularly liked the mats-only driving range, which has a cow target and a horse target. Hit the cow with a ball and the cow moos, its head and tail bobbing. Hit the horse, and you get a whinny.

Note the cow target at right. John Garrity

Stonelee's has several courses of the par-3 and executive variety. I played the Heights Course, a five-hole layout of recent and, I would say, somewhat tentative design. The first hole is set on a hillside, the right edge of the fairway set about 30 feet above the left. As a consequence, practically any tee shot, even a wild slice, rolls down to the gravel road by the driving range. I know, because I intentionally played a wild slice.

Despite the O.B. and a ball in a ditch, I wound up shooting 22. So the locals were right. I had no reason to fear a meltdown in Kent.

Watch this space for another installment of Mats Only. To send John Garrity advice, share your experiences, or suggest a driving range, click here.

 

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