We have a budget beating driving range about ten minutes from home that first tickled my fancy for the name alone. Mister Tees will run you 17 dollaridoos for a large bucket of 100 balls – about €10. Aside from 50 cent travel on all public transport in Brisbane, it is by far the best value I’ve found in Australia. I try to get there at least once a fortnight, taking out my everyday frustrations, or should I say meditating, over a large bucket of decent quality balls.
Last weekend, however, I turned my back on Mister Tees. With my partner in tow, I visited Victoria Park. Home to an altogether bougier driving range boasting a view of the city and a flat white even the coffee snobs of Melbourne wouldn’t turn their nose up at.
It was a Sunday, and Alex asked if I had booked a spot on the way there. “For a driving range!” I laughed. Have I taught you anything over the past nine years gabbing on about golf.
Now admittedly the carpark was much busier than I expected. But Victoria Park is much more than a driving range. In fact, it used to be a golf course that has since been given over to parkland in the shadow of the city skyline. There’s also a mini golf that would rival Pirate’s Cove on site, as well as a bar, restaurant, playground, the works. Sure, it was busy, but it was a beautiful sunny day, like they mostly are in Queensland. But hitting balls at Victoria Park comes at a price.
29 dollaridoos to be exact, $12 more than Mister Tees, albeit for 105 balls; the five extra pills coming in at a whopping $2.40 each. But people were paying it – a lot of people! I walked the length of the bays to find not a single one free. I trudged down to the basement and it was much the same. In fact, people were queueing.
I sat on a bench opposite a fella with maybe a dozen balls left thinking at worst I’d have to wait ten minutes. Like when you take the plunge on a checkout at Lidl thinking the person ahead of you only has a basket but then they end up playing lotto and scratch cards until the till overheats and you’re stuck. He painfully went through a pre-shot routine complete with three practice swings as his dispersion grew progressively worse. Now in fairness to him, I’ve never played with an audience at the driving range except Alex, and she’d only lift her head from her phone if she heard me keel over. 25 minutes later and this fella finally ran out of ammunition and signed himself out of the computer… THE COMPUTER!
Suddenly the $12 price hike made sense. Each bay was fitted with TrackMan and full access was covered by the $29 fee.. about €20. Safe to say I spent a lot longer hitting balls as a result too, geeking out over the technology, especially how the ball conversion feature spits data like I’m hitting premium golf balls and not tired range ones. Better yet, after I finally got in a rhythm, consistently finding the middle of the face, I was given the pleasant surprise of realising my numbers, already completely acceptable for me, had been delivered in meters when my traditional brain has always computed distance in yards.
And speaking of tradition, there wasn’t a stereotypical golfer in sight despite the range being jam-packed. My visit coincided with LIV Adelaide and while I didn’t watch a shot of that outside Patrick Reed’s hole-in-one, there’s no denying that Australia’s appetite for golf, or at least playing golf, is ravenous amongst people from all different backgrounds.
The game is accessible over here. It’s affordable, and it’s everywhere. Of course the weather helps. At home you’re layered up at this time of year bating balls through your icy breath. I was sandwiched in a bay between two dreadlocked dudes in singlets and board-shorts. One was even wearing flip flops and he was hammering the ball past me.
How we convert them to actually tune into tour golf I’m not sure but then again, when they’re buying beers and spending money at grassroots level, simply gunning to improve, what does it even matter?
Leave a comment