Where Golfers Go to Lie About Their Round
There are 18 holes on a golf course.
Then there is the 19th hole.
Technically, it’s a bar.
Spiritually, it’s a courtroom, therapy session, casino, confession booth and evidence-destruction facility for golfers who have just spent four hours making questionable decisions.
It is where scorecards go to die.
And where the truth about your round goes missing somewhere between the second beer and the bowl of chips.
“I’LL JUST HAVE ONE”
Nobody has ever just had one.
Not once.
“I’ll just have one beer and head home.”
Sure.
And I’ll just hit one more ball on the range.
I’ll just buy one more putter.
I’ll just have a quick look at the pro shop.
We all know how this ends.
Two hours later you’re explaining to a bloke you’ve never met why your 97 was actually “a really good 82 apart from the putting.”
THE POST-ROUND HANDSHAKE
The 19th hole begins with the traditional post-round handshake.
“Good game, mate.”
Translation:
“Thank Christ that’s over.”
Then comes the inevitable analysis.
“How’d you go?”
And suddenly everyone’s a professional statistician.
“I was three under through nine.”
Interesting.
You finished with a 94.
“Yeah, but I had a few bad holes.”
Mate, you had 14 bad holes.
You didn’t have a few bad holes.
You had a brief period of competence interrupted by golf.
THE SCORECARD DISAPPEARS
This is where things get interesting.
The scorecard is usually produced early.
“Let’s compare.”
Then someone notices something.
“Hang on… how did you get a four there?”
“Good hole.”
“You hit the trees twice.”
“Yeah, but I played it well from there.”
“Then you putted off the green.”
“Yeah.”
“And three-putted.”
“Yeah.”
“So that’s a seven.”
A silence falls over the table.
The scorecard suddenly becomes very interesting.
Someone needs another drink.
Quickly.
THE 19TH HOLE HANDICAP SYSTEM
Golfers have developed a sophisticated handicapping system for the bar.
It works like this:
Bad round:
“Mate, I was shocking.”
Average round:
“Didn’t play my best.”
Good round:
“I left about five shots out there.”
Brilliant round:
“I could’ve gone really low.”
Embarrassingly good round:
“I wasn’t even swinging properly.”
Nobody actually says:
“I played really well today.”
That’s arrogance.
Instead:
“I was lucky.”
“I got a few bounces.”
“The greens were running nicely.”
“The wind was down.”
“My new grip helped.”
“My back wasn’t too bad.”
Basically, anything except admitting you hit the bloody ball well.
THEN THE STORIES BEGIN
This is the moment the 19th hole really comes alive.
Every golfer suddenly becomes a war correspondent.
“Mate, you should’ve seen my second shot on 14.”
No one saw it.
But everyone is about to hear about it.
Apparently it was a 210-metre hybrid through a gap the size of a letterbox, over water, underneath a tree and somehow onto the green.
You ask what happened next.
“I three-putted.”
Of course you did.
Golf giveth.
Golf taketh away.
Golf also charges you $11 for a schooner.
THE RULES GET VERY FLEXIBLE
The 19th hole is also where golf rules mysteriously change.
Suddenly everyone’s handicap improves.
“So what did you actually score?”
“About 86.”
“What’s ‘about’?”
“86-ish.”
“Did you count that penalty?”
“What penalty?”
“The one when you hit it over the fence.”
“That wasn’t out.”
“It landed in someone’s garden.”
“Yeah, but I played it.”
“How?”
“I climbed the fence.”
“That doesn’t make it in bounds.”
“It was playable.”
At this point, nobody cares.
The bartender has already heard enough.
THE TAB
Then comes the most dangerous part of the 19th hole.
The tab.
There are two types of golfers when the bill arrives.
Type 1: The Honest Golfer
“How much do I owe?”
Respectable.
Rare.
Endangered.
Type 2: The Accountant
“Who had the wedges?”
“Those were yours.”
“No, I had the schooner.”
“You had the schooner.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have the chips.”
“You ate the chips.”
“I had two.”
“You ate most of them.”
“I’ll just put in $20.”
This is how friendships are destroyed.
Not over cheating.
Not over slow play.
Not even over someone driving their cart into a bunker.
Over $6.40 worth of chips.
THE BAR STOOL EXPERT
Eventually someone starts giving golf advice.
This man has played golf for 27 years.
He has a handicap of 19.
He has never broken 90.
He is now qualified to fix your swing.
“You’ve got too much movement in your takeaway.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
He takes another sip.
“Your problem is your hips.”
Another sip.
“You need to stay connected.”
Another sip.
“Watch this.”
He stands up.
The entire bar watches as he demonstrates a golf swing that looks like a man trying to remove a bee from inside his shirt.
“See?”
Nobody sees.
THE NEW CLUB ANNOUNCEMENT
Then someone casually mentions:
“I bought a new driver.”
Silence.
Every golfer at the table suddenly becomes interested.
“Which one?”
“TaylorMade.”
“How much?”
“About $700.”
“Jeez.”
“Yeah, but it was on sale.”
Ah.
The universal language of golf.
“It was on sale.”
It could have cost $900 yesterday.
It doesn’t matter.
You saved $200.
This is how golfers justify spending money.
You didn’t spend $700.
You saved $200.
Your partner will never understand.
Your golf mates absolutely will.
THE ONE WHO SHOULDN’T BE DRIVING
Eventually someone says:
“I probably shouldn’t have another one.”
This is normally followed immediately by:
“Ah, I’ll be right.”
Narrator:
He was not, in fact, right.
The conversation becomes louder.
The stories become less believable.
Someone starts showing everyone a video from today’s round.
Someone else has somehow found a photo of themselves from 2017.
Someone is ordering another round.
Someone is trying to organise next Saturday.
Someone has lost their phone.
Someone has found their phone.
It’s in their hand.
AND THEN COMES THE SENTENCE
Eventually, usually around the third or fourth drink, someone says:
“You know what we should do?”
This sentence has never led to anything sensible.
It might be:
“Let’s play Royal Melbourne next month.”
“Let’s start a fourball.”
“Let’s go to Thailand.”
“Let’s enter that tournament.”
“Let’s buy a simulator.”
“Let’s have a golf trip.”
At 5:42pm, everyone agrees.
By Monday morning, nobody remembers the conversation.
Except the bloke who has already created the WhatsApp group.
THE 19TH HOLE IS SACRED
Because that’s what the 19th hole really is.
It’s not about the beer.
It’s not about the chips.
It’s not about arguing over whether that ball was actually lost.
It’s about sitting around with people who understand that golf is completely ridiculous.
You can spend four hours walking around a perfectly manicured piece of land chasing a tiny white ball with expensive metal sticks.
You can lose six balls and blame the wind.
You can shoot 104 and somehow remember the one birdie.
You can spend $600 on a club that makes absolutely no difference.
And then you can sit at the bar and tell everyone it was “a pretty solid round.”
Nobody judges you.
Because they’re golfers.
They’ve done exactly the same thing.
THE 19TH HOLE RULE
There is only one rule at the 19th hole:
Whatever happened on the golf course stays on the golf course.
Unless it was spectacular.
Then it must be exaggerated.
And if anyone asks about your score tomorrow?
You know the drill.
You played well.
You left a few out there.
Could’ve gone lower.
The greens were tricky.
And that one triple bogey?
Never happened.
Cheers. 🍻
Addicted 2 Golf
18 holes of frustration.
1 hole of selective memory.
