We fielded the same team as in the home leg, where three wins and two halves had edged us to a narrow 4–2 victory. We knew we’d need to play well to hang on to the Commoners Cup. Bob McDermott and Martin Roche, our only losers at home, arrived with a steely determination to right that wrong.
When Captain Chris emailed me the match details, he told me he’d had a recent purple patch, but his game had since “gone to rats”. On the first tee, he told us he’d just had a lesson, which gave us more hope. This was misplaced. We lost five consecutive holes, with our opponents one under gross, receiving shots on four of them. After that start, a 3-2 defeat didn’t feel so bad.
We only needed two wins from the remaining five games to keep the trophy. One by one, the results trickled in: lost… lost… lost… lost. And with that, the Commoners Cup packed its bags and disappeared into the Tavistock sunset. Our only winners on the day were Bob McDermott and Martin Roche, who lived up to their promise. It’s a funny old game.
Nearest the pin was on the 10th hole—much to the dismay of our opponent Peter, who stiffed it to a foot… on the 7th (traditionally the nearest the pin hole). The prizes went to John Harding for Tavistock and Bob McDermott for RND. Runner-up Bryan Palmer gallantly pointed out that Bob is teetotal and therefore wouldn’t want the wine. Bob, however, remained resolutely unmoved by this suggestion.
Post-match food was a mixed bag. The chicken curry failed to curry favour, prompting Captain Chris to have a word with the club manager. But the steak pie was a triumph—complete with bonus gravy—and the sticky toffee pudding, crowned with clotted cream, could have won a trophy of its own. Spirits remained high, and the room buzzed with good humour and golf chat. Even without the cup, it was a great day.
Gary Fisher
Vets Captain