Of course, our man explained, we would have to land a 100-foot across carpet from one end of the pub to the other while the post-work Friday afternoon crowd offered tips on putting lines, critique on technique, and raucous observations about the result.

It wasn’t the Party Hole at The Grange at LIV Adelaide because that was on the telly. But still. And for five bucks, of course we’d have a go. And it was a very cool way to end a very cool day.

Because whatever else golf can give you – including, yes, the shits – it’s great for a great day out. I don’t know if lawn bowlers or tennis players or bird watchers – known as “birders” or “twitchers” or “people to avoid in the pub” – enjoy such days out, but very good luck to them if so. 

Our day began in the pro shop at The Vintage, the Greg Norman design in the wine land of Rothbury in the Hunter Valley, where Corey Lamb “Chops”’ mum took our money and sent us on our way.

The four-ball was: myself; my man Brian, an old rugby mate who works in the mines; Ollie, a neighbour and property developer who’s worked with Norman’s design company; and Adam, a local baker whom I played with at the Jack Newton Celebrity Classic and is now my man at the Vintage.

Another thing golf (and twitching, too, possibly) can give you is disparate mates united by a common cause come addiction.

And so to the first at The Vintage, and a gentle dog-leg left that goes over a pond and downhill to a green guarded by a creek front right. It’s like Norman’s giving you an early tickle in the way of Dr Alister Mackenzie. Making you feel good early. Thanks, G-Man.

Because from there it’s no doddle. The Vintage is a dinkum golf course. The fairways are generous, generally, but have well-placed bunkers and wetlands and hazards to make you think: what is there, and I hope I don’t go there, and best stay out of there, etcetera.

It makes you play golf shots. It goes up and down, left and right. There are heroic carries for superheroes, and bail-outs for the cowardly and the clever. There is Norman’s signature hairy bunkering.

My man Adam’s favourite hole is the par-3 8th. The members mainly play it from where we did, the gold tees. But from the back it’s a beast – 194-metres, bunkers left, water all the way right and lapping against the green; a bail-out for the sensible; a long-iron or hybrid for the crazy-brave. It’s a very Sharky hole, and no argument.

I liked the 10th – a long and strong downhill and then uphill par-5, and the 18th, which is a proper finisher – dog-leg right, uphill all the way, you will play two very good golf shots to hit this baby in regulation.

But it’s a full 18 of golfing goodness, equal part cool short par-4s, strong par-5s, beastial babies from the tips that would test professionals.

And we might see some good ones come October. 

Want some gossip? The whisper is that the NSW Open may be played at The Vintage in our Spring of Golf, and it would certainly be super-cool to see Cam Smith and Lucas Herbert and, who knows, Adam Scott and Jason Day, having a whack around the sexy, 6310m bit of kit.

Probably won’t, though. If you can’t get Day to the Australian Open, a tourney in the bush sponsored by the local council and worth 800 grand all told, in heavily-taxed Australian dollars, likely would not thrill Mrs Day and their basketball team of children in Ohio. You’re going where to do what?

Feel your pain, Jase. True fact.

Back in the bar at Nineteeen, less than a lob-wedge across the road from the golf property proper, none of our four-ball can make the 100-footer across the carpet, for it is a proper test of golf, and no argument. One chap did hit the “hole” and bounce over it, and the prize jackpotted to next Friday.

It does not take a table of knowledge to know we will visit this pub and play this game and enjoy another great day out again.