This week the family golf tournament was battled out over 18 grueling holes. It is an annual event and has become a popular fixture on the July calendar for family and friends.
We had 20 competitors with the number doubling for the proceeding prize ceremony and BBQ. As the Tournament Director, I can tell you the logistics are a challenge and require mobilising everyone in the family. It is a major event.
I have assembled a committee which includes my FiL, MiL, and Mrs. BB to agree tasks and delegate. We take the responsibility seriously and spend many an evening discussing issues of great importance over dinner and much too much wine. Often my FiL and I cannot remember what we agreed.
Mrs. BB has clocked this and now fulfills the role of Committee Secretary, dutifully taking detailed minutes of discussions for the benefit of absent minded committee members.
My MiL is responsible for Branding & Communications and insists the tournament logo be pink on black with a pig. Pigs are a central theme as the family name means ‘wild bore’, and of course there is her obsession with all things pig.
This is convenient for me as I have been accused of being both a pig and a bore in the past, if not a bit of a wild one. I feel I fit right in. I agree and add it must be a flying pig as this best represents my own chances of winning the damn tournament.
My FiL is responsible for Catering and insists we have plenty of food and booze on hand for the après golf. I agree but remind him that that we must pay heed to Ceasar’s observation that feeding an army can bankrupt a man.
As our shopping trolleys creek under the weight of the overspilling victuals we shout to each other across the aisles trying to locate the remaining items on our list. We create a great spectacle and a gaggle of older women look upon us shaking their heads in disgust. Who freakin designs supermarkets anyway, it is easier finding a needle in a haystack.
Mrs. BB is responsible for Prizes and insists we have funky golf prizes and not the usual tatty giveaways, especially for the ladies. I agree but draw the line on commissioning Jimmy Choo to design a commemorative golf shoe.
We agree on designer shirts and pullovers for the winning team, a big pink pig’s head club-cover for the team captain, and a big pink pig’s bottom club-cover with a curly tail for the most need of improvement.
In addition the winning team must each ‘sign the pig’, a giant ceramic pig, the official tournament trophy.
In the end the weather held, a very competitive level of golf was played with the winning team posting a commendable under par score. The après golf was great fun, and everyone enjoyed the day. It was a major blast.