Our golf society rolled into Brookdale Golf Club in Failsworth for the Founders Cup, kindly sponsored by Pete Evens, and what a gloriously chaotic day it turned out to be.
Tucked away in the peaceful Medlock Valley, Brookdale is a proper little gem – an 18-hole, par-68 parkland classic that’s been dishing out character since 1896. The River Medlock snakes through six holes, the fairways are tight and quirky, and from the 12th tee you can stand there like a king and take in the whole layout. No roads, no buildings, just pure golfing escapism with a mischievous streak. It looks innocent enough… then bites you when you’re not looking. We love it.
The weather gods had been kind all week, and the forecast from 9am looked positively tropical for Manchester in April. Spirits were high – especially when Stuart turned up nice and dry. Last time he got so drenched he ended up showering at his daughter’s and borrowing her clothes. We’re still not over the photos.
Unusually, Oaker was a no-show. Turns out he’d completely overlooked that it was a rare Saturday event. Thank goodness we double-check the WhatsApp group, or he’d have rocked up the next morning wondering where everyone was. With that minor panic sorted, we rejigged the start sheet faster than a hacker trying to find his ball in the rough. My eyes were going properly cross-eyed though – there are far too many Oakes in this society. I’m only calibrated for one.
We teed off under blue skies, but by the 10th a sudden squall of hailstones turned the green into a winter wonderland. Proper white-out conditions while we took shelter under inadequate golf brollies until it subsided. Still, yours truly somehow managed to bag a birdie by putting across what felt like an ice rink… blows on fingernails and polishes them on sleeve.
Mr Butler, unfortunately, couldn’t quite repeat his heroic 47-point Stableford masterclass from last time. The pressure of defending the crown clearly got to him – or maybe the hail just froze his putter. Either way, the throne is up for grabs again.
The 18th provided the comedy gold of the day. The hole was “in progress” thanks to a landslide being shored up by a fleet of diggers. They’d stuck in a temporary tee that completely removed the dogleg, leaving a straight (in theory) uphill belter. Unfortunately, after completing the round, Alex.V discovered that someone had deposited a ball straight through the rear window of his own car. Poor lad had only had the motor a week. He’s now the proud owner of the world’s most ventilated BMW.
Slicing it off the tee is easily done, as demonstrated by our very own Mr Fore Right (Alex Baker), who almost put his tee shot through Col’s parked Mini – saved only by a diligent tree. Friend of yours, Ron?
And while we’re on the subject of Alex… he lost three balls on the road on the 5th alone. Three! The Mr Fore Right nickname is now officially tattooed on his forehead. As a small consolation, though, I believe Steve owes him a crisp £100 after casually promising to pay up if anyone hit the marker post on the 15th. Ka-ching! Mind you, Steve should have the readies – McIlroy paid out at 14/1, didn’t he? The wallet is officially getting lighter.
When the dust (and hail) settled, Dave Mac emerged victorious with a very tidy 37 points to lift the Founders Cup. Runner-up on countback was Stuart on 32, just edging Jay out of the prizes.
Nearest the Pin was claimed by Jamie, nice one buddy! The rest of us are all far too talented at being terrible hackers to compete for that. The two’s pot however rolls over to the next event and I can already hear Oaker counting his future winnings and rubbing his hands with glee. Usual Sunday game next time, Mike – see you there!
Special mention too for Michael Oakes Snr (confused yet? I still am), who has been formally (and involuntarily) welcomed to the Visor Club. I rocked it this time round and it seemed to work wonders for me. He’ll be proudly modelling the society’s finest headgear at the next outing. You’ve earned it, Sir.
I might add there were additional prizes given out on the day. One to Ron ‘The Tree’ Marshal (russle, russle) for ANGs Senior Champion 2025. And, ahem…*blush*… another prize for you’re truly, the ANGs Champion Golfer 2025. I thank you, no really… for me… oh, bless, thank you. I believe I only just edged Col out for that one and had genuinely thought he’d bagged it. Better luck this year buddy.
All in all, a smashing day out on a course that never fails to deliver quirks, character, and the occasional heart attack off the tee. Brookdale, we’ll be back.
Next up it’s Style… and by all accounts it should be a healthy turnout with fine weather tracking all the way. Coffee and Bacon roll is provided so no need to hit the Golden Archers on the way.
See you on the first tee, lads. Keep it straight(ish).
