Lesley Stones is all for anything that lets hackers speed up their very long days GOOD golfers may scream at me for this confession, but I’ve discovered I’m rather partial to an American scramble.

Or better still, to what my caddy calls a Mexican scramble, and naturally anything named after the fiery Latinos is much more fun than the rather staid American version.

I hadn’t tried scrambling until I played in a Comztek ladies’ golf day last month. Since the field contained an unhealthy dose of high handicappers, nohandicappers and absolute no-hopers, the organisers figured they’d never get everyone home before witching hour if we played a traditional betterball. How right they were.

So off we scrambled, with everyone teeing off and picking the longest and straightest of the four drives as the starting point for their next shot.

Not that we got to drive off the first tee anyway, since Comztek had lined up a pro to hit the first shot of the day for us. Insulting? Demoralising? Nah, just a way to make money for charity. We each slipped him R10 and watched our balls sail down the fairway.

They landed in such a neat little heap that there was little to choose between them. That was the last time that was going to happen.

My team thankfully had a secret weapon in the shape of Jean, who held things together when three of our four balls disappeared into water, the rough, or bounced off a tree and ended up further back than where it had started.

Even so, it still took us the normal length of time to complete the first nine holes, and at the halfway house the word went round — girls, you’re doing it wrong.

New instructions were issued for a Mexican scramble, where everyone plays off the best ball for every shot, right up to the final putt. We debated why Mexico won the naming honour. Probably because this way you can whiz round and finish in time for a nice long siesta.

Our four-ball started flying. But the team in front didn’t have a homing missile like Jean, and even a Mexican scramble is painstakingly slow if every single ball played is an absolute dog.

Another great thing about a Mexican scramble is the instant boost to golf’s networking abilities. Instead of four people peeling off in different directions we strolled along together, chatting about work and debating the merits of each particular shot. That’s much more entertaining than watching your partners disappear over the horizon.

And each of us contributed almost equally, with Jean providing the strong straight drives then the rest of us dishing out some well-placed follow-ups. Remembering not to putt your own ball is the hardest part. That’s where you have to curb the desire to finish off each hole by yourself like some allconquering hero.

But overall I’m a scrambling convert. That’s probably sacrilege to hot shots determined to strut their stuff and prove their individual prowess, but trust me, facing 18 holes where each one is a slow slog to the green gets awfully gruelling for hackers. The snootier elements may believe that means we have no business being on the green in the first place. But let me suggest a compromise.

For golfing days where sad amateurs relegated to bringing up the rear have no chance of winning any prizes, why not let them scramble? It’s fun, it’s faster, and it’s less frustrating for the four-balls who are lapping them. And if we reach the 18th hole in time for a tequila sundowner, so much the better.