Croydon Cylone 2016- An Icelandic View and One From The Chairman
A Tale of Two Holes:
A Viking Invasion of The Croydon Cyclone
by Bogi Bjarnason
- It was the best of putts, it was the worst of putts. Shorn of upshots, robbed of hole-outs, I tremble in silence and roar in righteous outrage. The Cyclone become center chains to choking on bile, and a run of chastity belts into the distant oblivion.
Hole 10 is a birdie-like gift wrapped in a snare wrought out of feathers plucked of off the clipped wings on the Lloyd Park parrots. The same godforsaken birds that haunt my dreams at night like a shrill reminder of park jobs wasted and a shrieking foreboding of the useless PJs to come.
A rolling putter gathers no pars. My custom made Aviar comes with a Roll of 14, the highest number of any PDGA approved disc, and it's love for the woods on 8 is stronger than the forces of physics and gravity combined.
With this, hopes and dreams turn to grey ash in a furious flame of despair as my legs give way to the sad embrace of an unkempt fairway. Lying there eyes to the sky, the heavens turn on a flaccid drizzle as impotent as my every tournament round and the drops meld with my tears of discontent into a sad, 0 proof cocktail of failure.
First exhaustion robs me and then Jessica does, then the ten pin rejects me before a pure bred Collie chews on the precious Star plastic of yet another Boss PJ.
My mind now boggles at the mindboggling amount of mindboggling events. And then I lose that mind.
I sang the saga of Croydon at courses wide and far, and leagues of rugged throwers heeded the clarion call.
Like thieves at night they descended on the faraway fairway land, yet the spoils were hard fought in battle against both the scraggy Englishmen and their derelict baskets.
On sunny fields they waged wars with Destroyers, Katanas and Xcalibers and exchanged the old Sturlunga Age handshake of “High fives” after every hole they ravaged.
Frikki is on fire. His putter hugs every chain it homes in on and rumors of sandbagging quickly turn from flippant to fearful as he tears through Int Am like a berserker on blood soaked amphetamines. Frothing at the mouth, the four fingers of his seafaring hand hoist the wooden shield of victory above his head to a shattering bellow of mirth from our pack of Icelanders.
Meanwhile, in the Up-and-Down Event, Steini casually curves an Ace in the chains on 3rd, and our party of Vikings then raids the Ring of Fire event for a haul of four discs steeped in plastic by our Nordic brethren, the Swedes.
Haukur and Brjánn chip in with less precious metals of silver and bronze as well.
A memory, vague through the haze of drink, yet sharp as the boiling acid of my stomach upon the tongue, is the highlight of our journey.
As the eager-not-to-help wait staff of Coombe Lodge draws the curtains on the keg at an unreasonably early hour, we stumble our broken bodies to the welcoming rooms of The Premier Inn, completely unaware of the olfactory terrors that hide behind door 8.
In the smoldering hotel heat, wet boots and sweat drenched wife-beaters gestate their vile odors in unison until they rise like vapors off of a desert road in the opening scene of an Iraq War epic.
Barely a step through said door, I recoil in disgust at the assault of evil smells.
This is the abode of the Open players.
The horrid odors, as palatable as a shot of Campari through a strainer of old kitty litter, paint thick coats of rancid distaste across my unsuspecting tongue and I heave once, I heave twice, and then, like a three-put of relief, the bone dry Beefeater burger of two hours past makes a dramatic comeback to the hotel floor.
Sunday evening my nerves flat line and I shoot a round at Wysockian speed, fueled with pure gut and intense instinct- never pausing to think, rarely stopping to contemplate.
My drivers seek out greens on lines so myopic that there are but radiant, yellow, headbands focused in the hazy distance.
But hindsight is 20/20 and nothing is to be done.
As the sun starts to set on our odyssey, we, the few straggling diehards who will not go gentle into that good night instead set up a camera at the second short course tee to sing Lloyd Park farewell with the chains of an Ace recorded on film for posterity.
A dozen toothless drivers later I decide to un-sheath a mid-range, and behold, first try I put our playing to rest with an Atlas to the bed of the basket.
A cocky smile of content slowly creeps back over my frowning visage.
P.s Beware, next time we return in force!
Croydon Cyclone 2016 sponsored by Kastaplast
The Wooden Valkyrie
by Rich Wood
Course work at Croydon has always been a club affair, a small band of workers who get involved in all of the strimming, pruning, mando sign prep, OB marking and flag planting. Without these guys and their hard work a tournament would not be possible. Friday saw Vilmar, Hippy Dan and Caleb join me for the 5 hours of putting the finishing touches to the work.
We received a lovely surprise from the parks dept when their guys cut a 5 meter circle around each of the 18 baskets. They knew we had a tourney and just went ahead and lent a helping hand! Awesome.
We had a dozen players travel down from Iceland and they kindly offered to run a Friday afternoon comp around the short course. 29 players turned out, we had two aces (this one on video!) Mikey and Trevor battled out a playoff before Mikey took home the Icelandic Vodka 1st prize! Thanks to Bogi and the guys for putting it together.
The weather had been a huge topic of conversation amongst us worry worts at Croydon. We had already suffered from the best grass growing combination of sun and rain over the previous month but the course was looking good, if a little hairy in places. The forecast had changed on a daily basis leading up to the event and had threatened lots and lots of both wind and rain. With a record breaking 90 players expected we were more than a little worried that the weather would make the rounds 4plus hours long. As it turned out, the disc golfing gods treated us well and with the exception of an hour of spitting and 20 minutes of coat wearing rain at the end of the Saturdays play we got away with it, big style!
I was scheduled to start on hole 1 on Saturday morning, and once the last of the Park Runners had finished we were under way. (Andrew Bonjour was spotted not only doing the run but on hearing the 2 minute call, sprinting to his tee, discs desperately trying to escape from his bag).
Play started with Fran Wilson, Adam Willetts, Sam George, Oli Valdimarsson, Sue Underwood and myself. Phil Willetts was caddying for his son and we had a good laugh whilst shooting some pretty tidy golf. I played pretty steadily and finished with a standard 66. 6 over par in a stiff wind was ok for me. It was nice to just play golf after all the prep work. Stupid mistakes on holes 5 and 7 annoyed me but parking 8 made me feel a tad better. We were first to finish in just over 3 hours and lunch was beckoning. Si Luard and his truck had made the trip and burritos were served... And my word they were goooood. I'd never had a good burrito before and now I can't wait for another! We are seriously hoping The Luardos Ladies will be back for future Cyclones.
I started on hole 5 on the second round with Haukur Arnar Árnason, Chris Groh, and Will Martin, Chris over from California, Haukar from Iceland, with the two locals... We had fun. Haukar and I, both in the Masters division, both with very similar PDGA Ratings and within a shot of each other... It would prove to be a close battle all the way to the final.
The Cyclone pretty much filled it's 90 available spots within 3 weeks of the invite going out. Derek Robins and Jester Wilson had both signed up for Masters Division and therefore were looking at a battle of their own for the title. Derek unfortunately had to pull out of the event and Jester decided to play Open Division, stating that the remaining Masters were nicely grouped to have a great battle... He was right, but I would like to mention that he would have been a clear 5 shots in front if he'd've stayed in Masters.
A 63 for me at the end of a good round which I again parked 8 and drained a monster putt from the bent over mando tree on 2 for an unlikely birdie left me 1 shot behind Haukur and a 6 in front of the ever steady Ivan.
The Après Golf at Croydon was maybe just too much after a long day. We had hoped that we would have something special with the newly purchased speed gun... And it seemed to do down well with the two Top Guns being Chris Malatesta 67 mph and Tomasz Nowak with a 66. But the rain was drizzly and people were pretty tired after a long day. The ring of fire was a thing of beauty though. A good number of Kastaplast Discs were won by a variety of players and the event wasn't spoiled by O'Malley striking an X rated pose! We promise to do better next time, The 10th Cyclone!
BBQ at the Scout Hut provided by the tireless Hippy Dan was consumed and the fire roared but I was showing my age and retired earlyish with a mind on that little circle of wood!
The weather again surprised us by being warm, sunny and wind free. Yet again, starting on hole 5 joined again by Haukur with Ivan Bromage, Grant Bransby and a very youthful looking Craig Berry (if this carries on we will start asking for birth certificates!). Ivan had the hot round of 59 (-1). I was also heading towards an under par round but for 4 dropped shot on my last 4 holes (1-4). Ivan was at +14, Haukur shot a 64 and was at +12 and my 62 left me 1 up at +11. We were to be joined in the final by Craig and Steve Kornmuller.
To have a final or not? I have always been a big fan of a final! Some enjoy a 4th round of 18 but personally I like the challenge of making the final and 72 holes is hard work! This year, a final was scheduled and as such The CDGC caddy bet comes into play. My caddy for the final had flown in from San Fransisco especially to assist my attempt was Tim Emmott. He also took in the FA Cup Final the day before, it was hoped that I had better luck than his Crystal Palace!
The final 9 went surprisingly smoothly! Tim kept it light, and gave me as much advice as he could for me to laugh at and ignore! We had fun, that kept me loose and the drop in 2 on the jungle hole 6 gave me a nice lead. We had started on Hole 3 (jungle) and so we we had 5 to play. I kept it together nicely until the extended hole 1. I got lucky with the drive, pitched out of the stuff on the left and then the approach bled left... Really lucky that we had strimmed a path over there! Our last hole was hole 2.. Extended to the basket of 15. My approach was weak leaving an 8 m putt. It would have been nice to drain it to finish off... But no, weak and short! I tapped in for the win and had a cheesy grin a mile wide. Steve Cardwell has a new witchcraft camera a we took a couple of brilliant groups shots to finish off.
Back to tournament central to find that Hippy Dan and Vilmar has completed the OB rope and flag breakdown and we were pretty much done, a short but very sweet prize giving ceremony saw me getting my hands on the prize I was after. The wooden disc is mine... And I'm ridiculously happy about it!
A massive congratulations to James Luton for taking the Open Division, Emily Wilsdon Open Women, Thomas Johannessen in Ad Am, Friorik Sigurgeirsson Int Am and Marek Nowak in Recreational.
And finally a huge thank you to Tom Lowes, for TDing yet another BDGA Tour record breaking event. 90 players... Full! How are we going to beat that?
Tom has put together a few graphs from the finalists... To show how their weekend went. Enjoy.
Open Women (4)
|2||Haukur Arnar Árnason||8800||903||+20||65||63||64||39||231|