THE ROAD TO EASTBOURNE PIER CONTINUED
make sense”. The truth is that the C‐Level is surprisingly hard, it has a mixture of new players rapidly improving and old seasoned players with years of experience. The style of play is some7mes erra7c, and decision‐making can be confused by the unpredictable ability of opponents. If I am honest it was one of the lowest parts of the season. A break from my self‐ imposed pressure was needed. This was provided by my beloved Crystal Palace reaching the FA Cup Final (sorry East Dorset for the withdrawal, but it wasn’t really a choice) and a li8le trip up the road to Pendle and Craven for an A‐Series. The Cup Final and the A‐Series at Pendle were both brilliant weekends, winning one and qualifying out of my block in the other. I have wondered if like me Crystal Palace took their opponents out the night before the game for a Chinese in a car park, and persuaded them to drink coffee liqueur. It worked for me, and I will put this par7cular tac7c into the memory bank for future tournaments when I am technically out of my depth. Despite this rela7ve success I had not really got close to my season’s goal of the C‐Series Finals, and more to the point I was beginning to run out of money. I had set out to prepare properly for each tournament, staying near the venue and ge9ng a good night’s sleep. However, this also comes at a cost, both in terms of money and annual leave. As my love interest in the area was unavailable (an unfortunate recurring feature of the season) I therefore made the hard decision that in order to play in the B‐Series at Colchester at
myself, Alan Dickenson and Dena Howle8 were there to watch. This was very disappoin7ng, and looking at my stats for the day it seems 3rd and 4th place was not competed for. However, it was the most fun I had had watching a game all season, and we laughed a lot. Now I had a problem, just two tournaments at C‐Level le', no automa7c qualifica7on, and I’m supposed to be at a wedding celebra7on on the day of the next tournament. So being a total hypocrite, on arriving at East Dorset I explained to the Manager that I would regre8ably need to leave as soon as all my matches were complete, and told the bride I would be with her at about 8pm. At around 7pm I picked up my mallet and walked out onto the lawn to play my first C‐ Level final, against the only person to have beaten me that day, Linda Hogan, a high handicapper playing off 10 who had won 7‐6 in our first game of the day. An hour later without changing I was in my car driving the 101 miles to Leatherhead (a promise is a promise), with a trophy, a commemora7ve wine glass and a lot of apologising to do. Most significantly, I had reached my goal and was indeed on the road to Eastbourne Pier, with the added bonus of a further trip to Budleigh Beach. It had taken 164 ranking games, I had travelled 4,000 miles and spent more money than I care to calculate. I had been posi7ve, nega7ve, happy, annoyed, frustrated and quietly content, and I had met some wonderful people. Now I need to toddle off, I have hotels to book. Nothing could now go wrong, could it?
all, I would have to save some dosh and do a day return of 274 miles. I set off at 5.30am, returning home 14 hours later with a nice bo8le of red, the Lae7cia Atkinson Cup and a qualifica7on for the Na7onal B‐Level finals under my belt. I think I probably texted Tony again with the same four words as I did on the ferry back from Ryde, but with a much happier emoji. With the unexpected B‐Series qualifica7on secured I refocused my a8en7on on that elusive C‐Level Final. The major problem was that I was now limited to only four more a8empts, as my handicap had gone down to 5, meaning I was eligible only for those tournaments which had passed their alloca7on date when I was s7ll a 7. Swindon was a nightmare 9th. Surbiton however was more encouraging, and in strong winds I lost
a semi‐final to Helen Lucas, who had to leave the court several 7mes to retrieve her hat. Or was this in fact a cunning plan to disrupt my flow? Hmmm. As well as my disappointment at losing, Surbiton also highlighted a couple of annoyances that have blighted an otherwise mostly posi7ve playing experience. Namely slow play and the failure of players to stay 7ll the end of tournaments. The final of the Surbiton tournament was eventually finished at 8:25pm on hoop 13. Unfortunately only the tournament management,
PART 1 OF MIKE'S STORY WAS PUBLISHED IN ISSUE 003 SEPTEMBER 2025
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