Golf: it's not for footballers

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Tiger Woods may be dominating the sport, but mention golf and it is a footballer - Craig Bellamy - who first springs to mind. His attempts to hit Liverpool team-mate John Arne Riise for six with a driver after a booze-fuelled karaoke session managed to eclipse Mr Woods' effort to win his umpteenth competition in a row, while the image of golfing holidays has been similarly tarnished by footballers on mid- and pre-season breaks to the La Manga, the Spanish sports resort. Any self-respecting golfer would do well to steer clear of the area now as locals are presumably still seething following a succession of incidents involving premiership players which included the setting off of fire extinguishes, broken jaws and alleged rape.

To consider another "established" alternative would also be foolhardy. Firstly, the cost is extremely prohibitive, and secondly, most clubs expect you to be challenging for a spot on the European tour before allowing you onto the course - and lets be honest, the average golfers the wrong side of crap. And what's wrong with that? You don't have to be a pro to enjoy the game: golf is a chance to relax, to get away from the incessant nagging of the missus, to stroll around for an hour or two without having anything pressing on the mind other, of course, than having to swipe aimlessly at a small white ball rather unsuccessfully.

Before I go on, let's get one thing straight: I'm not as bad as the "average" golfer. In fact, I'd describe myself as fairly accomplished. However, in no way am I prepared to play on a course that expects you to be wearing your Sunday best just to be let through the entrance gates. I would be reduced to a nervous wreck; and my game would suffer horrifically as a result. Where once a seven iron could have been used to strike a ball a good 150 yards, nervousness would render it about as effective as a spade. And spade is a good analogy, as my wild swipes would undoubtedly dig up half the fairway.

Which brings me nicely on to Hebdon Bridge, a golf club in Yorkshire. I happened to chance on it while on holiday in the area, and it became a regular haunt. It was cheap - even for non-members - and terrifically unassuming: payment method consisted of putting the requisite funds into a metal tin. What's more, the course was a belter: there wasn't much in the way of vegetation, it is fait to say, but it made up for it with a terrifically undulating landscape which made it incredibly picturesque. Perhaps the only bad thing to say about it is that it has a rather confusing name: when I made initial inquiries as to the whereabouts of a decent golf course in the area, I was told there was one near Hebdon Bridge, which I took to mean as near the bridge in Hebdon; an easy mistake to make I'd say, and luckily for me both Hebdon Bridge and Hebdon (which has no bridge) are within an hour of each other. So who knows: the drunken antics of Stan Collymore might just have inadvertently sparked a new trend.