Читать книгу Bushell's Best Bits - Everything You Needed To Know About The World's Craziest Sports - Mike Bushell - Страница 35

And now we’re back to our blacksmith on the edge of Dartmoor who had nearly gone up in smoke. The ball he was holding was wooden and slightly bigger than a cricket ball, with a strip of yellow tape around its middle. The metal arch with its three prongs was the size of a lion’s paw. Robbie Richardson had the appearance of a zany professor, hair singed by a spark of genius.

If he could be declared a professor of anything it would be of play, because what he had set himself on fire for, the reason he had been banging and whirring, was for a new sporting challenge for the garden. Robbie has always loved to play games with his wife and three daughters, and was once given a croquet set for Christmas. However, it sat in the shed, abandoned. For a start, he always won, and the garden at their Devon home was too hilly and rough for a croquet lawn. The bushes, the trampoline, the garden swing, the tree stumps, the long rough undergrowth just got in the way. What’s more, it had also been years since Robbie or his wife Sarah had found time for a round on the local golf course. So Robbie tried to solve the problem and combine the two sports he loved. He mixed the big tee shots of golf with the garden tactics of croquet. It’s cross-country croquet – or golf in the garden.

So here I was watching Robbie Richardson teeing off on the third, keen to avoid the rusting trampoline and Lola the pet Labradoodle. A swing of the hammer and smack, a clean shot between the flower bed and tree stump.

‘I wanted to get people exploring their gardens or nearby parks or countryside again as a family,’ said Robbie, ‘while at the same time getting more people into croquet and golf. Yes, serious golfers will still play golf, but at some golf clubs, they have now introduced this game near their club house, to help bring the children back. They used to just hang around or go elsewhere, but now when the mums and dads have their round of golf, the children have their game too.’

Crolf is also now played in 14 schools. It can be tactical and you can knock your opponent’s ball into the rough with yours. In most cases beginners don’t need any help to get their ball into the bushes, and once it’s in the rough, there’s no dropping a shot – you have to get in there and somehow fetch it out with a hammer strike.

I found myself in a jungle of rhododendrons which snared my ball for three hits until finally my frustration forced it free. Then I hit it with such vigour that I smashed a treasured pot in the garden. The balls are hard and will break any ornaments that get in the way. I ended up under a tree stump and had to use a snooker-style shot with the end of my stick to poke the ball clear and get it nearer the ‘hool’, which is Crolf for hole. Unlike the one hoop in croquet, the ‘hool’ is a four-pronged arch so you can get it through from north, south, east and west, making a little bit easier for beginners.

It’s hoped it will spread the great and underestimated sport of croquet to a new audience, while also helping new people onto the golf course.

‘I haven’t seen anything like it,’ said amateur golfer Dave Lightfoot, who had been out walking his dog and who’d stopped for a swing. ‘I can see how it can gets the kids involved and once they have done this they can pick up a golf club.’

I played a round of Crolf on the undulating grass alongside the river Dart, and got a hool in one. There must be something about these unusual challenges that bring out the best in me. If you are ever unfortunate enough to play a real round of golf with me, I apologise for the amount of time you will spend waiting at each hole, and it might pay to bring along the Complete Works of Shakespeare. However, in a warm up for the crazy golf world championships at Hastings I stunned the reigning world champion with a hole in one there, on the 18th. It was a perfect shot, which involved a trip up a ramp, through a castle and down the other side, all the way in. I was told not to attend the championships the following week.

Back in the world of Crolf, Robbie Richardson is not alone. Other versions of this hybrid have sprung up independently in other parts of the world, including Denmark, while the British Crolf Open, held at Ugbrooke Castle near Exeter every May, is now in its eighth year.

If you do ever have a game, remember the ball will have been made by a Devon blacksmith who might have set his eyebrows on fire in the process. For more information see www.crolf.co.uk