The big practice ground.

I am sure everyone realizes how much time and effort a professional golfer puts into their game.  For the most part we are all perfectionists that desire self improvement. We are self motivated and thrive on the solitude that the driving range can bring.  These are common threads that run through every professional, I am no exception.  For me the love of the quiet alone time on the practice ground appeared very early. 

Believe it or not I was very shy.  I found it hard being accepted into any of the groups at school.  I was a tom boy and enjoyed playing football with the boys, unfortunately this didn't go down well with the girls. Then at some point the boys realized they didn't want me playing with them anymore.  School was complicated and none of it came easy.  

Luckily, I had already found golf.  I didn't need to call anyone if I wanted to hit balls.  I didn't have to hang with a group of girls and talk about make up and boys, and I didn't need to try to tag along with the boys for a game of football.  Golf was all mine and I loved it.  No need to share the ball with anyone else, my mistakes were my own.  I enjoyed that responsibility and it created a never ending desire to be as good as I could possibly get.  I had no idea where it would take me or even what being good meant. It was all about personal achievement. 

This is where the big practice ground at Princes Golf Club came in.  It became my sanctuary, a place I could escape to and I would spend every hour possible there. 

It was essentially a huge field with perfect grass that the ground crew would use to replace worn out pieces of turf on the course.  You got to it by driving down a dirt track at the boundary fence between Princes Golf club and Royal St Georges Golf club. You could then take your car to any part of the practice ground to find the perfect spot to hit from.  It had a few huge mounds of soil that had grown over,  they provided shelter from wind so I could work on my swing changes with out being buffeted about.  I created targets and worked on different type of shots on this range.  It was large enough for me to hit in any direction and was always very quiet. 

However one day in the spring of 1985 It had one other person practicing on it.  I was lucky to have my dad with me as I probably would have ran off back to the clubhouse.  The person in question was the lady Captain of the club. Her name was Joan Piper.  Being shy I found it quite intimidating that someone might actually watch me hit some shots and that she was the lady captain.  I was nervous but dad told me not to worry as he was pretty sure she didn't hit it perfectly.  I tried to just concentrate on hitting my balls and ended up not even noticing she was watching.

After about 30 minutes of hitting balls she walked over and starting chatting to my father.  Being curious I listened in.  She told dad she was the county captain and they were looking for junior girls to join the the Kent County Ladies Golf Association.  I think both my dad and I were surprised as it was still so new to me.  She also told my father that she believed I had talent for the game.  Why? my father asked, she replied normally girls are scared to hit it, swinging smoothly trying to hit it straight. Apparently I was throwing myself at it. 

This encounter was to be the start of my amateur career and the first realization that I might actually be able to play the game well. 

I also remember clearly watching the assistant professionals practicing on the big practice ground.  They were so cool, leaving their car door open to let the music from the tape player play while they hit balls.  I would sneakily watch them for hours in awe of how far they hit it and the flight they got to their shots.  Every once in a while they would come over to watch me and help me out with what ever I was working on.  For the first time I felt accepted.  Golf was the bond.

One of my other fond memories of the big practice ground was of my father teaching me to drive his car on it. The Range was so big and always quiet that this was possible.  He had a Renault 11 and it was fairly new.  I was still small for my age and could hardly reach the peddles or see over the steering wheel. But I perched myself on the edge of the seat while my dad guided me through shifting gears and clutch control. 

As I write this I am reminded of the many amazing things my dad did for me growing up.... Oh the trust he must have had when I got behind the wheel of his car.  He really made my time fun on this practice ground and even though he wasn't a great golfer he showed me the right way to work always with an element of fun and competition.  Thank you Dad.