Words by Simon Skeldon

Simon is a good friend of Cookie Jar, and someone with a particular penchant for the small little discs we use to mark our own balls on the green.

He put pen to paper for this short but thoughtful examination with these small little hunks of metal we wander the links with in our pockets.

“Markers in Time”, by Simon Skeldon

I love playing golf. Fifty years after making my first swing, I am still addicted to hitting shots that come from the ‘middle of the middle’ of the club, seeing a putt track online, or indeed that feeling of competing in a tight match or closing out a low score. I owe the game a lot.

A few years ago, I set about clearing some old ‘stuff’ that was tucked away out of sight in the roof. A couple of old Ping bags full of rusty clubs I could never throw out – a Ram putter, a Wilson wedge, and a Macgregor 1-wood. However, it was a particular thing inside the bags that was most interesting.

In amongst the crusty gloves, broken tees, and old scorecards, I found some ball markers. Small circles which, on first sight, appeared insignificant, but on closer inspection had the branding of clubs I had played over the years. South Staffs, West Hill, Guildford, Brokenhurst Manor, Saunton, Highcliffe Castle (to name a few) were all in that old Hoofer bag, and they all transported me to very particular days and specific memories.

I know that memories are fragile, but the markers somehow triggered detailed recollections of days on the links. Shots played, meeting lifelong friends for the first time, playing with my dad, my first experiences of seaside golf, winning, significant feelings prompted by a marker no bigger than a 10p coin.

Markers today are more elaborate, all shapes and sizes, brighter, metallic, and personalised, but I still like a small round club marker. I always have Brora, Thurlestone, and St George’s Hill in my bag. My putting hands get a little shaky these days, and I like that the last thing I see before taking on a left-to-right 6-footer is a positive reminder from a course I have enjoyed. It somehow calms the nerves.

Over the past few years, I have been lucky enough to play some fabulous courses in the UK and further afield. The match stakes amongst my golfing chums have changed from money and drinks to ball markers. They simply provide positive memory marks every time they are subsequently used. Direct access to some of my happiest days.

A simple thing in a complicated world. Golf is good at that.