One of the key cogs in my Where’s William Now wheel is my friend Richard Clements. He and I have been colleagues at a technology company for four years or so. We hit it off immediately. He has really extended himself to arrange much of the scheduled golf with the clear understanding that I would be reciprocating on my turf of Northern California next year. I just didn’t know I would be paying for next year’s trip with the money he is winning on THIS trip.

An Uber ride yesterday from Manchester Airport landed me at another colleague and friend’s home in Denton named Niall Pickles. After a short visit, Niall loaded up his trolley and we took a one mile walk through his neighborhood to Denton Golf Club, established 1909. On the way, we had some friendly chats with a handful of his neighbors which would never possibly happen where I’ve ever lived. Then again, tapping into my self-awareness, perhaps people truly don’t have enough time for an oxygen-depleting chat with me? At the golf course, there is a natural stopping point to my stories because we all have tee times. But without those guardrails, you don’t want to randomly run into me if you speak English. Especially after two days of forced silence in Brussels and Amsterdam!

Once we reached the Denton Golf Club gate, we were transported back in time. It is a classic Parkland golf course with a pretty basic brick clubhouse that just exudes personality. As expected, there were twenty or so empty beer kegs in the Secretary and Treasurer parking spots, which told me this club had its priorities in order. I enjoyed looking at the memorabilia around the facility and the chats I had with the recently crowned Gross Flight Club Champion and the Pro Shop attendant with the sharp wit. Today, it would be Rich, Niall, me, and another of our Pacesetter Technology colleagues/friends, Connor. The Fourball teams would be Rich and Connor vs Niall and me. There is an old saying in poker that if you don’t know who “The Mark” is, the mark is YOU. Rich hits it long off the tee, holes out efficiently from inside 6 feet and gets an obscene amount of strokes. Connor is a scratch player in his twenties, Denton is his home track, he has a 30 inch waist, and hits a Xerox copier four yard draw. Our side is slightly less athletic. But if a fight breaks out, we are all jumping behind Niall. Niall announced my impending visit as the “pro that chips one-handed,” so the people I met around the club looked at me like I had an eye in the middle of my forehead. But I had to just take it because (1) it’s true, and (2) if I gave him any static, Niall would just slap me around like a toddler.

Let me introduce this matchup by giving a little background on my friend Rich, who has been feasting on me like an Orca on a whale carcass. He beat me gross at St. George’s Hill and played “horribly” to secure a halve at Wentworth. There is an inherent advantage because the golf here requires a different skillset, and one-handed chipping is not a necessity in the European toolbox. Richard is also smart so he has been insisting on “Match Play” vs “Medal Play,” which everyone on earth knows is a massive advantage except for the two worldwide golf ruling organizations, the R & A and the USGA. RC has been not only beating me like a bass drum in an EDM jam–he has been telling me about it while it’s happening. I have recently started calling him Johnny Miller because he is constantly reminding me of things I already know–like there’s clouds in England.

Vegas had Niall and I listed on the big board at plus $400 in this match, which means if you bet $100, you’ ll get your original bet plus another $400. Sounds like a potentially juicy payout, but this is why the Vegas hotels keep getting bigger. We made it interesting until the turn, where Rich claimed the 10th-11th-and 12th with routine pars, net birdies. Connor rolled in a 25 footer for birdie on the 14th to close things out 5 & 4 and send all the smart punters to the pay window. The dinner tab, as has been the theme this week, was picked up by me at a cool pub called Quiz. After Rich served me up another heaping slice of humble pie on the course, I had a classic English meal of Steak Pie with all the fixins and a pint of Guinness.

The rematch happens today at Rich’s home course of Delamere. Sure, the reality is anything can happen, but the chance of me securing a victory is about the same odds as me chipping with the second hand.

After another likely beatdown for William today, Rich and I hop an early ferry to Ireland for a murderers row of Irish Classics!