Whether it be the rich getting more prosperous in the men’s professional game, or the fact that golf fans rarely see the best play the best any more, due to the silly ongoing friction between the wealthy businessmen pulling strings and engulfing a sport with such rich history in flames.
Or it could be the private, country club culture that has deterred people from playing the game since, well … forever and represents – rightly or wrongly – the elitist stereotype which has always lingered around our great game.
This column isn’t about slandering private clubs, nor is it entering into the wearisome debate of LIV versus the PGA and what is the right side of the fence to sit on; it is about acknowledging the greatness the sport offers at the grassroots level, especially in the countryside.
After the Masters, your writer blew the dust and cobwebs off his golf clubs and jetted to his country of origin, New Zealand.
I joined some mates for our annual, three-day golf trip to Rotorua, and after that, I had no plans on playing any more golf. I would have packed up the clubs, and that would’ve been me.
But I was invited down to my uncle’s home golf club in the King Country (Southern Waikato), also known as the middle of nowhere. I arrived at the Pio Pio Aria Golf Club to play in the Thursday comp. The course is a quirky layout where sheep are primarily responsible for cutting the fairways; yes, insert joke here. At a guess, I would say 95 percent of the members are farmers – sheep or dairy.
The comp starts at 1pm at Pio Pio to cater for milking cows and shearing sheep in the morning.
Wear what you want, play in a five, whatever. Just don’t muck around.
I played with two sheep farmers and my uncle – a dairy farmer, and to put it bluntly, I was terrible; the course had me for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and probably would’ve had me for dessert if I had played any more holes.
Sheep help make sure the fairways stay cut at Pio Pio Aria Golf Club. PHOTO: Callum Hill.
But boy, did I love it. Not the golf or even how well-kept the golf course was. It was about the love for the sport this rural golf club’s members had. It was everything the sport should be. Diverse, friendly, fun.
The conversation on how to improve the golf club and course was constantly discussed on the way around. Farming was also a main topic of conversation; this city-slicker couldn’t offer much in that department. But I loved way the men I played with took an interest in each other’s lives and their guest from across the Tasman.
My 10-year-old cousin, who is learning the game, trekked around all 18 holes, getting advice on green reading, hitting the ball and basics of etiquette. In my opinion, he couldn’t get a better education nor have better mentors to fall in love with the sport.
I know there are plenty of these clubs around, especially rurally. But I just wanted to shine a light on one which reminded me that amongst all the carnage at the pinnacle, the big money end of the game, golf still has plenty of good to offer if you look in the right places.
