Vinctus Sola
Ta-rah Martin Greenhalgh
Warrior from an island green
Free from the chains that held you?
There were none that could be seen
Our man from Lancs who loved his golf
A Downsman through and through
Your customary late arrival to the tee
‘Ey up Cocker, how’s you?’
A colourful character there is no doubt
White hair, green name, blue shoes on your stumps
The latter dyed by your own hand
Whol fettling some antique books
A great companion on and off the course
You loved the campin’ and the chaff
Team mate, Captain, and, above all, friend
For whom there was always a laugh
You’ve left us far too early,
We're saddened you'll not return to your locker
Yet I’m sure you’d want to tell us all
Be reyt, and stop your mytherin Cocker.
And so it's time for us all to wish you
'Rest in Peace' - the traditional saying.
But I’m certain that if Heaven has a golf course*
You’ll be up there playing.
*(Of course there's no way of being certain that Heaven does have a golf course.
I am, however, of the unshakeable conviction that, if there isn't a decent 18 hole track behind the Pearly Gates, Martin will have already formed a committee to build one.)
Dislcaimer:
There will be a number of people who might read this who will have known Martin much longer and far better than I.
In writing this blog I am not seeking to represent the thoughts, reflections or emotions of anyone but myself.
Should it be in my blog? Well all of our lives are touched by light, shade, and ultimately death. So I think a few personal memories about Martin are ok to share in a post. Particularly as quite a few of you reading this will have known him.
And ultimately, my blog, if it's anything of much at all, is a contemporary 'golf based' journal in which I largely chronical things of significance to me. On that basis Martin's recent passing absolutely belongs here.
My own reflections.
In truth I have really only got to know Martin over the last 18 months, following my retirement from full time work and becoming involved in the Senior's section at Eastbourne Downs Golf Club.
I quickly came to regard Martin among my favourite golfing companions.
He was funny, generous, and an ideal golfing partner in matches. A supportive playing partner and gently combative towards his opponents (but always with a bit of humour and often untranslatable Lancashire witticisms and chaff (banter) thrown in).
We also partnered each other in a few of the Inter-League matches last summer, a pairing I think we both enjoyed.
I last played with Martin just a few days ago, on the 1st March, at EDCG.
It was a typical experience.
He arrived within seconds of our allotted tee time, waggled his club several times and then executed a fierce blow to the ball.
Not yet in his best rhythm he showed no outward sign that a slightly scuffed shot into light rough wasn't exactly what he was looking for from his opening tee shot.
And off we went down the fairway, chatting about everything from the condition of the course to the 'price per kilo' that the local farmer could likely expect for his cows at market.
During the round Martin executed a number of par saving chips. It was a strength of his game that I'd seen many times during those Inter-League matches.
My own wedge play was inconsistent that day, and Martin and I discussed it briefly out on the course. Back in the clubhouse, a little while later, Martin produced a copy of
'Dave Pelz's Short Game Bible'.
'Here you go Jon, this'll help you out'
The book is the size of a small coffee table.
'That's great Martin. It's a huge book though - where's the executive summary?'
Martin (laughing) 'Well, you know, basically Pelz teaches five different swings for the short game.'
Me: 'Ok, so have you read it then?'
Martin: 'Well I've dabbled'
Both of us chuckling, the book was put away for me to perhaps read another day.
And that, for me, was Martin in a nutshell.
He was, in my own experience, always a nice guy to be around.
And maybe that's why I shouldn't be quite as surprised, as I undoubtedly have been in the last few days, at just how much the sad news of his passing has hit me.
Footnote: Vinctus Sola, when translated from latin, means (more or less):
'Free from the chains that hold them'.
It is apparently the motto of the Greenhalgh's from Brandleshome in Bury.
I don't know if Martin is related, I'm fairly sure he must be, but I'd like to think he'd forgive me if I've gotten this wrong and applaud the fact that at least I'd tried to get it right.
Which, when I come to think about it, is what he always did when we played golf together.
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