Oh boy. Those back tees. Not just once for good measure. Not just 18 times for one round. But three long, bloody, club-championship days, 54 holes in total, of taking a hard right or left from the tees I play most often, and marching back, way back to the bad boys.

The Blues. The Blacks. Even the colours remind me of being in a fist fight and coming out on the bruised side.

With the dreaded “back tees” there’s the matter of the actual extra yardage you are going to play, and then there’s the psychological piece. You walk off the green and instead of walking straight to the left or right, you walk past the tees you often play and you just keep going, and going. As you walk back, the decks get smaller and smaller. And the turf gets better and better. Because nobody uses them. I recall a hole at Old Head on the south tip of........

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