That Time I Played Golf in a Thai Monsoon (And Loved Every Minute)
The sky turned the color of a fresh bruise somewhere around the 7th hole. My caddie, Khun Nong, looked up, smiled like she knew a secret, and simply said, “Maybe rain come, maybe not.” That’s when I learned that Thai weather predictions are about as reliable as my putting stroke.
Five minutes later, the “maybe” became a “definitely” as the heavens opened up with the kind of rain that makes you question whether you’re playing golf or preparing to build an ark.
When Mother Nature Attacks Your Golf Game
Let me set the scene: I’m at Alpine Golf Club in Bangkok, playing with two Korean businessmen I’d been paired with and a local member named Khun Wichai who wore the biggest grin I’d ever seen on a golf course. The weather had been doing that classic Thai thing all morning – threatening but never delivering, like a bouncer who’s all talk.
Then, as I’m lining up my approach shot to the 8th green, the first drops hit. Not gentle English drizzle, mind you. These were proper Thai raindrops – the kind that feel like someone’s throwing marbles at you.
“We go in?” I asked, already reaching for my umbrella.
Wichai laughed. Actually laughed. “Why? Ball still there. Hole still there. We play!”
And that’s when my education in monsoon golf began.
The Great Deluge (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Rain)
Within minutes, the rain went from heavy to biblical. I’m talking about the kind of downpour where you can’t see the flag from 100 yards. The fairways turned into rivers. The bunkers became swimming pools. My golf shoes squelched with every step like I was walking on wet sponges.
But here’s the absolutely mental part: Nobody stopped playing.
The Koreans pulled out rain gear that would make a North Sea fisherman jealous. Wichai just took his shirt off and stuffed it in his bag. The caddies produced umbrellas from nowhere and carried on like this was completely normal. Which, as I learned, it was.
“Rainy season golf!” Wichai shouted over the downpour. “More fun! Ball go shorter, but everyone same-same bad!”
The Physics of Underwater Golf
Playing golf in a Thai monsoon is like playing a completely different sport. Here’s what I discovered:
The Ball Flight Mystery: My usually reliable fade turned into a knuckleball. The rain was so heavy it actually knocked balls down mid-flight. I watched my perfectly struck 7-iron travel about 30 yards before dropping like it had been shot.
The Aqua-Putting Experience: Putting on waterlogged greens is hilarious. The ball leaves a wake like a tiny speedboat. Nong showed me how to hit it at least twice as hard as normal and aim for the high side – water doesn’t break uphill, apparently.
The Mudball Roulette: Every shot was an adventure. Ball caked in mud? Who knows where it’s going! Left, right, or straight down – it’s nature’s way of adding excitement to your round.
The Bunker Swimming Pool: I hit into a greenside bunker on 11. Except it wasn’t a bunker anymore – it was a legitimate pond. Wichai waded in, shoes and all, and played it anyway. The splash was magnificent. He made bogey. I made a memory.
Why Everyone Was So Bloody Happy
This is what really got me: The worse the weather got, the happier everyone became. The Koreans were giggling like schoolchildren. Wichai was telling jokes I couldn’t understand but laughed at anyway. Even the typically composed caddies were cracking up.
“Rain make everyone equal,” Nong explained while wringing out her towel for the twentieth time. “Good player, bad player, rain don’t care. Make everyone same-same struggle!”
She was right. My single-digit handicap meant nothing when I couldn’t see where my ball landed. The course’s slope rating? Irrelevant when every hole is playing like a water hazard. We were all just humans trying to hit a small ball with a stick in absolutely ridiculous conditions.
The 13th Hole Incident (Or: When I Became a True Believer)
The 13th at Alpine is a gorgeous par 3 over water. At least, I assume it’s gorgeous – I couldn’t actually see it through the rain. The storm had reached peak intensity. Lightning was flashing in the distance (but Thai-style “far enough away”). The rain was coming sideways.
“What club?” I asked Nong.
She looked at the yardage book, looked at the rain, looked at me, and shrugged. “Maybe 5-iron? Maybe 3-wood? Cannot know!”
I went with the 5-iron. Swung as hard as I could. The ball disappeared into the gray wall of rain. We all stood there, soaking wet, waiting.
Then Wichai started clapping. “On green! Maybe close!”
How he could see anything was beyond me. But when we sloshed up to the green, there was my ball, 10 feet from the pin. In the middle of this aquatic chaos, I’d hit one of my best shots of the year.
That’s when I got it. The joy wasn’t despite the conditions – it was because of them.
The Fellowship of the Soaked
By the 15th hole, we’d become a band of brothers. Language barriers had dissolved along with any pretense of staying dry. The Koreans taught me Korean curse words for bad shots. I taught them British ones. Wichai taught us all Thai phrases that made the caddies blush.
We shared whatever dry towels remained. We cheered for everyone’s shots – good or bad. When one of the Koreans holed out from a flooded bunker, we celebrated like he’d won the Masters.
“This is real golf!” Wichai declared, water streaming down his face. “No phone, no business, no thinking – just play!”
The Caddie Champions
Can we talk about the caddies for a moment? These absolute warriors didn’t just endure the monsoon – they thrived in it.
Nong managed to keep my grips relatively dry (how?!), tracked every shot through the downpour, and read putts on greens that looked like rice paddies. All while maintaining the structural integrity of two umbrellas and a smile that never wavered.
“I play rain many time,” she said when I apologized for the tenth time about the conditions. “This nothing. One time, caddie for Japanese man in typhoon! That real rain!”
The mental image of someone playing golf in a typhoon kept me laughing for three holes.
The 19th Hole Celebration
When we finally finished – 4 hours and 47 minutes of aquatic golf – we looked like we’d swum the course rather than played it. My scorecard had dissolved into papier-mâché. Nobody cared about scores anyway.
The clubhouse had never looked more welcoming. We sat on the terrace, still dripping, watching the rain continue its assault on the course. The beer had never tasted better. The tom yum soup was like drinking liquid happiness.
“Same time next week?” Wichai asked.
“Only if it’s raining,” I replied.
And I bloody meant it.
What Monsoon Golf Taught Me
Playing through that Thai downpour rewired something in my golf brain. Back home, I’d cancel a round if there was a 30% chance of drizzle. Now? Bring it on.
Here’s what that soggy round taught me:
Golf is Better When You Stop Caring: When conditions make scoring impossible, you’re free to just play. No pressure, no expectations, just pure golf.
Shared Misery is Actually Joy: There’s something beautiful about a group of idiots choosing to play golf in a monsoon. It bonds you in ways a sunny round never could.
Caddies are Superheroes: If you ever doubted the value of Thai caddies, play a monsoon round. They’re incredible.
Equipment Doesn’t Matter: Your $500 rain gear will fail. Your premium balls will swim away. Your rangefinder will fog up. And none of it matters one bit.
Laughter is Waterproof: The worse things got, the funnier they became. Golf should make you laugh, not cry.
Practical Monsoon Golf Survival Guide
If you find yourself in a similar situation (and I hope you do), here’s what I learned:
Embrace the Wetness: You’ll be soaked in 5 minutes. Accept it. Fighting it just makes you miserable.
Bring Extra Everything: Gloves (at least 6), towels (at least 10), and a sense of humor (unlimited).
Trust Your Caddie: They’ve done this before. Many times. Let them guide you through the madness.
Adjust Expectations: Take two extra clubs. Putt like you’re playing hockey. Celebrate pars like eagles.
Safety First (Sort Of): Thais are pretty relaxed about lightning, but use your judgment. If it’s properly close, even they’ll suggest shelter.
The Shoe Situation: Your expensive waterproof shoes aren’t. Just accept you’ll be playing in foot pools.
The Aftermath
My clubs needed three days to dry out. My shoes never fully recovered. I had to buy a new golf bag because the old one developed a funky smell that wouldn’t quit.
Worth every squelchy step.
That round changed how I think about golf. Now, when I see rain in the forecast, I don’t check for cancellation policies – I check for tee times. When conditions are perfect, I almost miss the chaos.
The Monsoon Golf Converts Club
I’ve dragged several unsuspecting friends into monsoon golf since that day. The conversion rate is 100%. There’s something liberating about playing golf when the elements are trying their hardest to stop you.
“You want to play in THIS?” they always ask, looking at the apocalyptic sky.
“Trust me,” I say, channeling my inner Wichai. “More fun! Everyone same-same bad!”
They think I’m mental. Then they play. Then they get it. Then they’re texting me every time rain’s in the forecast.
Why You Need This Experience
If you’re in Thailand during rainy season (May to October), you owe yourself a monsoon round. Not because it’ll help your game (it won’t). Not because it’s comfortable (it really isn’t). But because it’ll remind you why you fell in love with golf in the first place.
Strip away the perfect conditions, the score obsession, the equipment worship, and what’s left? Just you, your mates, and a silly game played in ridiculous conditions. And that’s when golf is at its absolute best.
So next time you’re in Thailand and the sky opens up on the 7th hole, don’t run for cover. Take your shirt off like Wichai. Trust your caddie like your life depends on it. Laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Because I promise you this: You’ll forget your score from last week’s perfect-weather round. But you’ll never forget the day you played golf in a Thai monsoon and loved every sodden, ridiculous, glorious minute of it.
Cheers from under an umbrella, Nick
P.S. – Pro tip: If you’re going to play monsoon golf, bring a waterproof phone case. Not for protection – for the video evidence. Because when you tell your mates back home that you played through rain that made Noah nervous, they’ll never believe you without proof. Mai pen rai!