(Yet Another) Golf Swing Epiphany

Surely anyone who's swung a club more than twice has had that same feeling: "Oh, THAT'S how it's done!" A range session one Sunday AM last year was like that; Swinging each club seemed effortless. The ball obeyed my every command. The 100, 150, and 200 yard signs could be hit - in fact, they were easy to hit - and each time I hit them, the loud clang reported to my range mates that I had found it! "Crap! If only I had played today!"

You know the story, though - the following week, teeing it up, 3 guys watch after my confident "I'll take us out" to see which way I'd be starting my day, and instead of the solid muted thwack of a Pro V being squashed on titanium before being propelled rocket-like downrange, the familiar clank-pull-hook, "I think I saw it near that tree." Yep, "the zone" was in another time zone, far from where I stood, in my out-of-balance finish, such as it was. Many trips to the range later, I had yet to find that feeling again... That feeling of effortlessness... That sudden ability to hit my P-Wedge where my 8-iron was normally used. That sudden ability to hit my driver straight, no matter how I chose to swing the thing.

Today, I took the weekend off from playing golf, visited the range to work on a few things. Today, I was back in that zone.

This is a rare occurrence. My being in "golf zone" is an event similar in frequency to UFO sightings over Manhattan, and as mystical as the image of Mother Mary appearing on the fogged window of a skyscraper. Like the aurora borealis, or a shooting star, it comes and goes without warning or announcement - it just appears.

I sensed it from my first swing, though it wasn't a good shot. A 6 iron, pull hooked, hit thin, but one that carried 180 yards. I did not consciously ponder how to correct that miss. The instructions seemed to flow, as if from The Force, directly to my shoulders, arms, and hands. Minor adjustments made themselves. The next swing was almost dreamlike - as I held my finish, watching the ball shoot missile-like straight away from me, I had no conscious memory of my back-swing. Impact sounded different - solid, muted. Wedge shots landed like darts near their destinations. My 3 wood carried to the top of the small hill near the fence at the far end of the range - that where I usually would hit my driver.

It has always been my goal to hit the fence at the far end with my driver. Today, I thought I was falling short before I realized that I was hitting the fence repeatedly, but this fence is a loose mesh that "caught" the ball, and allowed it to fall straight down - a bit of an optical illusion. That was the epiphany. The feeling of having arrived, that every golf-day of my life would be different from now on. I had progressed! I was at the Next Level.

Sure, I should've seen this coming; at a recent scramble, I crushed a drive 285 yards down the middle, and followed that with a pured 215 yd 3-wood to a par 5 green. I'd been playing a lot more short-iron approaches, and was starting to feel bad for my 5 and 6 iron lest their feelings be hurt for having to spend so much time in the bag. Something was happening. Here, at the range, under lab conditions, the truth was being revealed.

I called Golfflog Jr. over to my stall - "Watch this, I'm going to hit this ball over the fence." Jr. eyed me with that look that told me he was considering taking my car keys away.

It seemed simple enough - I wound up, and smoothly stroked. I felt the shaft load as I began the downswing. My one thought was an image of the ball being squashed against the clubface long enough to transfer all of the club-head momentum to the ball. I looked up to see the ball flight - it was moving straight away - almost a stationary point in the sky, not so much flying as getting smaller. It hit the fence near it's top third. Mind you, I could not hit that damn fence before today.

I teed up one more, this one struck harder and louder, but with a fade to it, hitting the fence, though, at about the same height. That was that - two tries, but failure never felt so sweet. I finished my last few balls with some short irons and chips. I gave Jr. a few pointers on his grip.

This COULD be the result of my having just read "The Impact Zone" by Bobby Clampett - Jr. and I talked about the swing dynamics described in the book as we rode in the car on the way to the range today.

Did those descriptions of swing dynamics somehow impose themselves into my muscle memory? They say that thinking about a golf swing has the same effect on muscle memory as actually swinging, you know... Of course, this could just be another "aurora borealis..."

I'm trying like hell to get to The Black on Monday by virtue of an extra day off from work. We'll see if The Zone and MY zone are anywhere near each other...

GF

Spitball Sergio Wins Players, Goydos Dissed by Press

Part of me was willing to smile for Sergio, winning his first almost-major - he showed flashes of brilliance, seemed at times to be a genuine sportsman, and won the thing after all. But part of me couldn't just look at Sergio's performance in this one event. No, I couldn't ignore (as they say at the Oscars) his body of work: whining about conditions at the 2002 U.S. Open while endlessly milking his grips, spitting into the cup last year at Doral, choking at the 2007 British Open, and all through his recent career openly expressing how he's been somehow cheated, that everyone else but he gets the lucky breaks.

Do I hope that Sergio turns the corner? Will I root for Gentleman Garcia if he chooses to mend his whiny ways, and leaves "Spitball Sergio" behind? I sure will. I'm a big believer in second chances, and an admirer of famous figures who've changed their approach to fame, and reinvented their public persona. George Foreman comes to mind: See "When we were Kings" to understand just how far he's come...

But here's what got my goat today: Seeing the following exclamation from Cameron Morfit on Golf.com: "And ultimately, to the great relief of everyone who hoped for a first-class winner at the "fifth major," Sergio Garcia won the Players. " Cameron: What the fu__ is that all about? Didn't Goydos acquit himself with good humor and grace? Didn't he perform admirably, playing within himself, sticking to his game plan, and play steady-eddie golf?

And what makes Spitball Sergio a "first-class winner?" The surly disposition? His proclivity to yell "cut... CUT!!" at every other tee shot? The whiny behavior? The cursing of the vast golf conspiracy that's been against him all the while? I have two words for you, Mr. Morfit: Puh - leeze.

If not for a gust of wind on the first playoff hole, a deserving and humble Paul Goydos would be holding the crystal trophy. Sure, Sergio gets a second chance in this fan's eyes, but I hope to see more of Mr. Goydos as well.

GF

I Found It (Again)!

Yes, I had an epiphany about my golf swing! Yes, I was at the range, and thinking hard about what the pro told me two weeks earlier about my swing. For a change, I didn't just bang through the bucket o'balls waiting for something to happen to improve the results. Read on at your own risk - what worked for me may royally screw you up...

I've always maintained that, no matter the sport, be it baseball, throwing darts, shooting pool, the basics rule. I gave lots of thought to my pro's guidance, and the guidance I've absorbed over the years that fits my game (and not all of it does...) I decided Sunday to apply my range time to grooving these lessons, and to avoid the trap of focusing on the instant gratification of desired ball-flight. We all know that it's possible to get reasonable ball-flight results from the crappiest swing - we've all done it at one time or another - but I'm after real improvement. Instead, I was looking for "swing" results. An odd thing happened - the better my swing, the better the resulting ball-flight. Hey.... That's how it's supposed to work!

So here's what I found worked for me: The pro said I was getting my hips out in front of my arms and standing up through impact. This pushed the club outside the swing plane causing pulls, pull hooks, and sometimes a frightening shank. It took some doing to un-groove this tendency, I'm sure because my middle-aged body finds it easier to NOT maintain spine angle through the swing... ("BAD body... BAD!")

Here's my little range secret - works only at ranges with some windows near each booth - I look at my own reflection at various stages of the swing. Let me tell you, these "mirrors" don't lie! The pro was right - I was flipping the club inside too soon on the back swing! My shoulders were tensed way up almost around my head! I was out over my toes!

Ben Hogan says in his famous "Five Lessons" to stay grounded - my interpretation of this is to keep your center of gravity as low as you can, which you can't do all tensed up shoulder high and out over your toes! The key move: at the top of the backswing, I wanted to feel almost as though I was sitting on my right hip.

The downswing began to feel nearly automatic - it was over in a wink. The sound of impact began to sound authoritative! The fall was flying straight!

Getting a little to bound up in the various positions, I tried to make the whole thing happen in a smooth rythmic back and forth. Good things continued to happen!

Today the real results: Only my second outing of the season, and at an unfamiliar course, I'm back in the 80's again. I parred 9 holes, bogeyed 4 more - the rest were a total mess, my having fallen victim to "range mat" syndrome. Plainly put, my short pitches were struck with a fatness rarely seen even on reality television. Sure, I'm "solid gold" off the astro-turf mat at my favority ball-beating-boutique, but (it turns out) fairways don't work like astro-turf. They don't forgive you when you let your club arc bottom out 6 inches behind the ball... Range mats will ruin your game (but that rant will be a separate blog entry...)

So, fellow floggers, I believe I am on my way to a career season here. My goals include breaking 40 on any front or back nine (my personal best is 41) and I'm looking to break 85. I'm working hard to get my unofficial 18 handicap to an offical 15 (or lower.) These goals suddenly feel within reach.

Stay tuned!

GF

Season Opener, Flogger Style

The Blade and I made it out for our own season opener on Masters Sunday. Here in the Northeast, April has been a changeable month, and it changed for the worse Saturday night, giving us a cold, gray, breezy day for our maiden voyage of 2008. It wasn't all bad, but it wasn't all good either. The good news: The lesson I took the week before did me some good. The bad news: I didn't always do what the pro told me to. Just as in any human endeavor, from assembling a kid's bike to baking a cake, when the directions are followed, results are good; when not, they're not. When I leaned back on "feel," I made goofs that reminded me why I saw the pro in the first place.

Fairways and greens (as well as front and back lawns) have been slow to green up and fill in this Spring - the nights have been too cool - so the course was a little scruffy, but the rough was not yet up, so you could say it was playing "friendly." Of course, this is muni golf we're talking, so I was reminded a few times about needing practice from bare and hardpan lies. The bunkers here are a mix of sand, soil, and gravel - you wouldn't dare take a shiny new wedge into one of these! My new Nickent hybrid was put to use, it does the intended job for the most part, but I need use it a few more times before I really trust it. I did notice that in direct sunlight it has bit of a red sheen to it, which was kinda neat.

The Blade, who is nick-named for his putting prowess, didn't show a lot of that famed skill on Sunday - at no time did his Ping sing to it's potential. He's just getting warmed up... We played with two other walk-ons, Donnie and John, both friendly fellows, both playing well enough to elicit a few cheers, and we all kept a similar pace. In my many, many rounds of muni golf, I can count on one hand the number of times I've run into genuine jerks on the course. Virtually everyone I've played with has been a good playing companion, some have been memorable.

Aside from the birdie on the par 4 10th, my shining moment was on 11, a short par 5, where I hit a bullet of a drive (following my pro's instructions) that cut the corner and bounced and rolled to 155 yards. My low moment: Hitting my second shot on 11 so fat that the chunk of half-dormant sod flew about 40 yards, or half the distance that the ball travelled before resting in a fairway bunker.

The tally: A handful of "others," a handful of bogeys, a handful of pars, and the season's first birdie. The actual score? Well, let's just say that a season's scores are like waffles, the first one's never quite right, and ought to be thrown away (or fed to the dog..)

The other good news: The Blade and I joined with our other golf buds at the home of The Commish that afternoon to watch The Masters final round while imbibing from one of those little Heineken kegs, and scarfing down sausage, peppers, and onions on Italian bread. The perfect start to the 2008 season.

GF

Reflections on The 2008 Masters

That grand Spring ritual that heralds the beginning of the golf season for us northeast floggers - The Masters - has come and gone for 2008. All the tradition and ceremony remained intact, like the schmaltzy theme song, like Nantz' schmaltzy commentary, like the tributes to the past and the connecting threads woven to the future (does it get any better than Player passing the torch to Immelman? You couldn't write a script like that...)

The Masters looks a little different than in the past - it was my first Masters in high definition, and it looked fantastic. CBS, by the way, clearly has the best quality hi def of any network. The pictures on my 42" LCD looked almost three dimensional. How about that computer-generated ball-flight tracker, which shows the curvature of the shot from the player's perspective? Pretty edgy stuff for a tournament that won't allow a blimp (a rule I am strongly in favor of.)

There were new players and plot twists added to the continuing story of The Masters, but here's the rub: Most of the key moments were disappointments of one kind or another. Couples misses the cut. Tiger's hopes (and ours) for a modern, single-season grand slam are dashed. Heroics are few and far between - Tiger's pitch from the 10th fairway to the 18th green on Friday was about as good as it got. This Masters Sunday back nine was all about failure, and failure is an ingredient used only sparingly in the recipe for memorable competition. If failure were salt, this tourney left us parched (to stretch the metaphor...)

We seem to have entered a chapter in The Masters' story in which this grand old tournament comes to resemble the U.S. Open - and that's a bad thing. The thrilling Sunday back nine has looked more like an episode of Survivor; "Who will make it through the wind and water challenge?" Instead of the roars for which this tournament is known, we heard hushed moans when Sneds dunked it on 13, when Flesch splashed down on 12 before imploding, when Immelman fell short and wet on 16. There were no smiling faces coming up the 18th fairway, even from the leader! Following his tee shot on 18, Immelman let out a sigh of relief. After making his final, winning par, instead of jumping for joy, he had the look of a man who just got a repreive from the Governor! Hats off to Trevor, he played great, withstood the pressure, and earned his first major, but he and a few others might need a little counseling to avoid any PMTSD: Post Masters Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Perhaps this will change with the weather, and even Augusta National's management can't dictate that, but we already have a golf-war-of-attrition every June, ending on Father's Day. The folks at Augusta need to pay a little more attention to how The Open is set up (British, that is) where they seem to continually strike a balance between challenge and reward. Come Spring and the daffodils, the azaleas, that music, and the green jacket, we want to be thrilled! We want to be reminded of what makes The Masters the premiere golf event of the year! We want to be reminded of why we are anxious to make our first tee time of the season! We want to be reminded of how good it can get!

Bring back the roars!

GF

The Masters

The sensory cues are all in place: I can see the sun setting later each day, the birds, the local rabbits and other critters are active, and tufts of green grass are starting to show here and there in lawns that are still mostly dormant. I've got a tasty mouthful of remnants of my kids' chocolate bunnies from the fridge. In my hands are the winter's editions of golf mags as I scan them for season-starting tips; I'm holding my 5 iron, practicing my swing in the living room (when the Boss isn't around) and debating whether my first lesson of the year should come before my first tee time.
Then my aural radar picks up the song - "Augusta" - the song they play during Masters coverage. It's a promo for CBS or ESPN, and Master's week is still a week or two away, but those first few notes trigger Masters fever in me in a way that few other things trigger any kind of reaction. Of course, there's that cologne that an old girlfriend used to wear that triggers some pretty strong reactions, but this is a "golf" blog.
The (British) Open Championship, and the U.S. Open have longer histories, and may indeed be more difficult to win, but I would argue that The Masters is the premiere golf championship of the year. I'm still learning about the origins of all the tradition and ceremony that make it so special and so familiar. Start with its heritage as Bobby Jones' August Invitational.... Bobby Jones! Is any other tournament so closely identified with a particular person, any person, and a legend no less? I may never go to Augusta National, but I know all about Magnolia Lane, and the Champions locker room. I know that each hole has a name, I know about Rae's creek, Hogan's Bridge, Butler Cabin, Eisenhower's tree, and the countless other landmarks - it seems there's one visible in almost every shot shown on TV. If there are other tournaments that begin with a contest on their par 3 course, I've never heard about it. Two words: "Amen Corner." Who wouldn't agree that the 12th hole is the most famous par 3 in all of golf? Azaleas, and more azaleas.
Doesn't everyone know that once you put on a green jacket, you're "in" for every Masters for life until you use your own good judgment to walk away? To underscore how important tradition is, just look at what happened when they tried to take those lifetime privileges away.... Tradition is what makes this championship unique - the only major that's played in the same place year after year. When you watch The Masters, you're not just watching a round of golf, you are watching The Continuing Story of The Masters being told, re-told, and appended.
All that tradition provides the strong, reliable, foundation, but what really makes this the premiere golf event is the competition. Think of the most famous rounds, the most famous shots, the most famous wins in golfdom. Think of those moments that keep us coming back, those moments where the unbelievable occurred, where magic happened. Tally'em up, and tell me if you don't find that more of these incredible moments happened at The Masters than all of the other tournaments (not just majors) combined. Who won't be watching this coming week, hoping, even expecting, to see a moment like Nicklaus winning his final major? Like Tiger's unforgettable chip-in on 16? Like the incredible Sunday duel between Ernie and Phil on Easter Sunday before hearing Jim Nance ask, "Is it his time?"
The caddies shall wear white coveralls. CBS shall play that theme song, and there shall be limited commercial interruption. There shall be expanding, but still limited TV coverage. The attendees in the gallery shall be called "patrons." The greens shall be fast, the sand white, the fairways impeccably groomed, and the azaleas almost ridiculously colorful. These, my friends, are among The Standards. Violate them at your peril. They seem a little silly at times, but The Standards combine with the tradition and history to set the stage for the event that unfolds each Spring. The first few notes of "Augusta," like the dimming of a theater's house lights, cue us to sit back and lose ourselves for a little while.
This coming week, I'll be lost, somewhere down Magnolia Lane.

GF

Why We Watch... (and why Tiger Depresses Me)

We watch golf because we like to see the things that we can do being done at the highest level. Most of us can swing a bat, get a tennis ball over a net, make a "swoosh" or two from the foul line, and make good contact between clubface and ball. We can't do these things at the high level we see on TV or at the ballpark, arena, or pro golf tour. Few of us are entertained by watching even celebrities duff and chunk and four-putt - there's enough of that at our local muni on weekends. We love to see the spot-on wedge that sucks back to a few inches from the stick. We marvel at towering drives with 6 seconds of air time. We live for those 30 foot zig-zag putts that hit the heart of the cup, especially when The One is running after it, finger pointed, commanding it to go in. Ahh, The One... The Chosen One... The Greatest of All Time. Are we not lucky, indeed blessed to be golf fans while this kind of history is being made? And because Vardon and Jones and Hogan and Snead and Palmer and Nicklaus have gone before him, we are all the luckier for having the historical perspective. So why does Tiger Woods depress me?
First, here's what thrills me - the sheer excellence of what he does. For sure, he has the raw material - he'd be among the best if he conducted his life and his pursuit of the game like John Daly. He could roll out of bed ten minutes before tee time, and make a very nice living playing this stupid stick-and-ball game. But his raw talent combined with his disciplined pursuit of excellence is what makes him and historic figure - The One. In this way, The One is an inspiration. If all of us, any of us pursued any one thing in our lives with the focus, commitment, and single-mindedness that The One applies to golf, think of the potential we could realize. That's the "inspiration" part of the equation.
The depressing part: No matter how much discipline any of us applies to any of our interests, whether personal or professional, you will never be as good at that thing as Tiger Woods is at golf. My parents always said that they didn't care what I wanted to be "when I growed up;" that even if I wanted to be a garbage man, as long as I tried to be the best garbage man that I could be, that would be fine with them. Well, the sad truth is that I could never be as good a garbage man as Tiger Woods is a golfer. Naturally, this would be difficult to quantify - comparable measurements in the worlds of golf and sanitation are hard to come by - but even within the world of garbage collection, what would I have to do in order for my peers to declare me "the best trash picker-upper that ever lifted a can?"
Nope, I'm hard pressed to find anything that I do as well as Tiger plays golf. I can solve the "Jumble" in the newspaper within a minute-thirty 90% of the time; my privet hedge in the front yard is legendary in my neighborhood for the perfectly straight trim-job that I do (freehand, by the way;) my kids think I can fix anything that breaks around the house... In any of those things, trivial or not, can I achieve the level of excellence that approaches that of The One in his chosen profession? I'm not even going to try.
And that, my friends, is Tiger's biggest edge of the golf course - his competition feels the same way. Phil said it himself, famously, in a press conference about a year ago - as much as he will ever win, he'll never have the career that Tiger has already assembled.
Having said all that, I better get back to work.... discipline.... focus.... c'mon GolfFlogger - get inspired!

GF

Give Ogilvy His Due...

The headline from Florida should not be that Tiger's streak is over, the headline should be that Major Champion Ogilvy played steady, near-flawless golf despite the best players in the world nipping at his heels. Give the guy his due. Up until the last putt, his lead was never safe, but he played steady, kept his head, played safe shots when he had to, held nothing back off the tee, got it close and got it down enough times to make the others chase him, and looked calm and aloof, even while walking down the 72nd fairway. Look, it coulda happened and whole lot differently - Ogilvy three-putts the 72nd hole, Singh chips in, and we have a different winner. But that's not what happened - Mr. O played beautifully, and he scores a W. I say he'll be a factor in the majors this year.
Of course, the headlines will be about The One, and how his streak (such as it was) is now over. Will the sports journalism world call this a "slump?" Will they seek to find a heretofore un-noticed weakness in his character, his game, his nerve? Is his Grand Slam bid now is jeopardy? Will he ever meet or beat Nicklaus' or Snead's records? Has he peaked? You'll read all of the above.... until Tiger's next W.

GF

Those Other Bethpage Courses

Absolutely, if you have the opportunity to play "The Black," do it, by all means! Be ready to have your clock cleaned, to eat a chunk of humble pie, to be glad you didn't quit your day job. Prepare to be demoralized, to consider going back to fishing or bowling, to replace/repair/give away/throw away your clubs, shoes, bag and balls. Be ready for that odd feeling after teeing off on 18 that you are glad it's almost over. Glad it's almost over! You love to play golf, you eagerly anticipate a round on the legendary Black, and your glad it's almost over! What does that tell you about biting off more fairway than you can chew?
Here's my advice, try the Yellow, the Blue, the Green or the Red... There's a ton'o fun to be had on those courses, and none of them are pushovers. Many call the Red the next best course, and I'd agree. The Green is, by some accounts, the original golf course of the private club that existed on the site before Robert Moses began to build the State Park. It's a bit of an oddball, that Green course... I don't see a lot of rhyme or reason to it, but it is a collection of excellent holes, each different and challenging in it's own way. It's as hilly as the Black, not as long, and not as tight. Red is generally flatter, but 1 and 18 are two of the major exceptions. Bring extra balls. For my money, Blue may be the second toughest test next to Black, but Red has a charm to it that's hard to pinpoint. I live the Yellow quite a bit - it's geared down for us weekend golfers, but not necessarily an "easy" course. You'll need to play well to shoot to your handicap, but it's a more realistic course for us regular dubs for whom a good drive is 225 yards.
The point: The Black is definitely the "Lobster and Steak" on the menu at Bethpage, but sometimes that big plate full of food leaves you wishing you chose something a little lighter. Give the Yellow Course lamb chops a try!

GF

I've Been Hybridized!

As I noted in an earlier post, I "needed" a hybrid, and after much deliberation.... well, after browsing my local Golfsmith, and seeing a sweet deal on a Nickent 3DX Ironwood, I decided to take one into the booth for a few whacks. It felt sweet from the first swing. For $59, I couldn't go wrong (thought I.)
I like the Nickent look more than any of the other hybrids I've tried - it looks more like a small-headed fairway wood because it doesn't have that two-tone look that (I suppose) is meant to make the hybrid look like an iron with a dark tumor on its back. More importantly, it doesn't have a lot of offset - something I don't like at all in any club, excepting a putter, maybe.
In keeping with my hardware procurement philosophy, I did not buy their latest 4DX, nor did I even consider the two-year-old model 3DX DC - nope, I got the first generation 3DX Ironwood, and I presume that it will perform as well as it did a couple years back when golf magazines and columns rated it highly. I expect that this new addition to my arsenal will easily out-perform my 4 iron in consistency and ease of use.
I'll report back when the weather warms, the wind stops blowing, the rain stops falling, and the grass starts growing on how well my purchase performs in the real world.

GF

The Fist-Pump-Hat-Spike

If it was Ernie or Phil or Vijay or anyone else but The One coming down the fairway on the 18th at Bay Hill, even after a well-struck, safe shot to the green into a headwind, we couch-jockeys would be going for another bowl of chips and a beer to get ready for the inevitable playoff. Bart Bryant would've been on the practice tee, staying loose, getting ready for the first hole of sudden death. Instead, we: you, me, Bart - we watched for the inevitable, and we saw the near re-run of Bay Hill circa 2001. Back then, The One snatched victory from the jaws of Phil Mickelson, yesterday, it was Bart Bryant who watched helplessly, "hopelessly" as he was quoted, as The One did what he does - make the clutch shot, sink the clutch putt, do whatever he needs to do under extreme pressure to gather up another W. There are no superlatives that have not already been used and over-used. We are watching history in the making. The fist-pump/hat-spike clip will now join the dozens of others that are played and replayed and will be replayed into perpetuity. We can say we were watching when it happened...

GF

Are All Golfers On Viagra?

I can't imagine that every golfer suffers from "E.D." or has urinary flow issues, yet you might think so, judging by the sheer volume of advertising for remedies to those ailments that you see when watching golf. They're all about the same - a guy's wife gives him the "let's do it" nod, and then the faucet blows a gasket, or some other guy takes his middle-aged squeeze dancing or for a motorcycle ride, and next thing you know, "the moment is right..."

Here's what cracks me up - the spots with the grey-haired guys riding around in a vintage Mustang convertible with heavy metal music playing, and the voice-over starts talking about always having the urge to "go." I just don't see the association between heavy metal lead guitar riffs and a weak stream. Is this their way of acknowledging that there's still a rock-star wannabe inside each of these swollen-prostate-owning old farts?

I'm concerned about the prevalence of this advertising during golf coverage, golf programs, on The Golf Channel, and in golf magazines. Face it dudes - this is an old man's sport for a million reasons. Start with municipal courses, where I like to play. The places are overrun with retirees, and they don't show a lot of patience for the youngsters starting out. And the youngsters don't show a lot of patience for the 6-hour rounds that result from the retirees shuffling around in the rough trying to find their $4 Pro V1's. Don't get me wrong, I expect to be one of them retirees myself some day, but I hope I play faster than the guys I've been stuck behind.

Then there are the country clubs - I've had just a little exposure to this world. Unless your Dad is a country clubber, you're not going to be honing your golf chops in that rarified air. Sure, some clubs set aside "twilight golf" for young golfers, but face this too - the youngsters aren't really welcome until they can really play. The members love.... LOVE... to play with "the kid" who can shoot to a 2 handicap - just don't be finding those skills on my course on my time. The unspoken sentiment: "Me and the guys all paid 20.... 40..... 60 grand this year to be able to tee off when we want, and to hang in the grill-room with a bunch of other guys that pretty much look just like us, and you kids don't even know you have a prostate yet..." Nope, the welcome mat is begrudgingly rolled out for the young men. How many 16-year-olds want to don their Sperry loafers, polo shirt, khaki's and blue blazer to hang with the old guys? Do any 16 year-olds own that kind of clothing?

...and that's the boys! The young girls? They don't have a shot. The irony is that so many clubs are hurting for membership.

So, while I really would prefer to see some sports car ads, a comical Budweiser commercial, or the occasional Victoria's Secret spot during "Playing Lessons with the Pros," maybe the advertisers have it right. Us golfers are in their target demographic of current or near-future E.D. sufferers and weak-stream whizzers. Unless we can figure out how to sustain our ranks through succession, and an ongoing infusion of young people in numbers into our sport, we'll be watching more and more ads geared towards older and older golfers. Soon, Wilfred Brimley will be waving his diabetic finger at us reminding us to test our blood (while heavy metal music plays) between segments of "Big Break XXXXVII."
GF

I Need a Hybrid

Let me be the first to say that I reject the notion that we all "need" any more golf equipment than we already have. I can't imagine that a new driver will do me much better than the 460 Launcher that I already have, or that I could flush a 3-wood any further or straighter than I already do with my other Cleveland launcher. I already have The Greatest Putter Ever Made. And the 762s are still the best irons I have ever used. Ever. But I've got a big hole - it's between 170 and 185 yards away from wherever I'm standing, trying to select a club that will do the job consistently. A choke-down 5W sometimes works, but choking down on a club is an unnatural act, and I don't practice it, and it feels weird. You can't make a confident, committed swing when you feel weird and unnatural.

My "Big Billy" 7W, named for Billy Casper, and a near-perfect knock-off of the original Heaven Wood, comes close, but that same small profile face and sharp leading edge that makes it so good out of the rough also makes it feel.....weird and unnatural off the tee, or tee box, or fairway. It's the weapon of choice in the second cut, but stays in the bag on medium-sized par 3's.

A flushed 5 iron does me just fine up to about 175, but add a little wind, or elevate the green, and I over-swing, and end up who-knows-where. I can hit my 4-iron nicely at the range - it's good for 180-185 - at the range - and I've hit some brilliant shots with it in actual rounds, but it's unpredictable. I can hit it 165, and I can hit it 190, I just never know which or when. That same club, however, is money in my pocket when hitting that very low runner out from the trees amidst which I seem to spend so much time...

So, I need a hybrid, and it's going to take the place of the 4-iron. I've tried a few, and they aren't miracle clubs, but I do believe that one will give me more consistent results on those 178 +/- shots. I need a used one, not a new one. This is easy enough to accomplish these days - I'll swing a few at the range, try out clubs that belong to some golf pals, make my choice, and hit eBay for a few nights. My thrifty yankee predisposition will not allow me to take a shiny new piece of hardware into a pebble-filled waste bunker (another place that I've wiled away the hours...)

The point is, if you see me wielding a hybrid this year, it's not because I fell for the hardware hype-machine that attempts to convince every one of us that all the stuff we already own is no good any more, and all the new high-COR, low kick-point, square-headed, spin inducing, multi-material, spin reducing, to-the-limit MOI stuff that they just came out with will make our lives so much better. Nope, if you see me with a hybrid, it's because I needed it.

GF

Cink, Sank, Sunk

Sorry, I couldn't help that headline. Really, it hurt to watch ol' Stu stumbling down the stretch. Ever since my scratch-golfin' friend "The Commish" told me that Cink's swing reminded him of my swing, I kinda identify with the guy. Really, I should be so lucky swing like any pro, but Cink's finish has just a little bit of "helicopter" in it, and mine doesn't. I've got more of a flat back and down-swing that somehow ends up with a more upright finish, but I do get the club through the ball.
Sometimes you can just tell which way tee shot is going by watching a player's hands. I sure knew that handsy swing Stu made on one of the last holes was going to end up left, 'specially since he lost the tee shot before to the right. We've all had that ball on the lee side of the tree to deal with, but you don't see it too much on TV. I just got finished telling my Dad how Stu was going to surprise us with a great upside-down, left-handed swing shot when, and natch, Stu shanks it 10 feet to the left.
Anyhow, it was nice to see Sean O' (head of thick) Hair rack up another win. Maybe we are seeing a new, young player capable of challenging The One? Stay tuned...

GF

If Phil Can't Do It, Ernie Can!

Saturday night on the Golfin' Channel, Ernie said (and I'm para-quoting) "I'll just be heading out there to shoot a 3-under tomorrow, and we'll see what happens." Less than 24 hours later, Ernie is BACK, and not a minute too soon. If we don't see some vintage Ernie, or classic Phil soon, we'll be watching a Tiger-dominated season of golf that will be downright boring in its predictability. We need some competition. I watch to see that great duel down the home-stretch. For tournaments and championships to be memorable, you need that hot competition. Phil's first Masters victory was great because of the Ernie-Phil duel that made his winning putt something to jump up and down about. Tiger's last British Open was almost exciting because Chris DiMarco was making a late charge. It was another DiMarco charge at the Masters that made Tiger's chip-in on 16 such a thriller (I mean, in your life, have you ever?)

If Phil and Ernie can't do it, we need some of these young guys with so much promise (yet so little results) to start posing a challenge to The One. Matt Jones looked great at the Honda, and Golf Digest predicted he'd be one to watch. Jason Day might be the real deal, or he might be another Ty Tryon. Don't count Badds out yet... How cool would a Steve Stricker/Tiger Woods final pairing be at any major?

Bottom line, the Flogger says that, though history may be made in 08, we'll only really be talking about it for years to come if a true rivalry takes place. Sure, we'd like to tell the grand-kids how we watched The One lap the field at all four majors back in ought-eight, but books will be written and movies will be made if The One needs to fend off a resurgent Phil, and a rejuvenated Ernie. ...and if we see one of the young rookies make like Sergio's performance at the PGA some years ago, all the better.

GF

The Greatest Putter Ever Made

After fiddling with so many Anser-like putters, trying out the two-ball, three-ball, four-ball mallets, testing every giant-headed, egg-beater looking, space-ship resembling ball pusher out there, I sauntered onto the plywood practice green at Sports Authority one fine day two seasons ago to continue my quest for slap-stick magic. I test drove the newest, strangest looking offerings from all the big names with fair to middlin results. Then I found The Greatest Putter Ever Made... I picked up the old-fashioned, old standby, previously overlooked Odyssey Rossie II, and proceeded to run every ball into the hole. Thinking that this had to be a burst of putting genius on my part, I set the Rossie II aside, and tested a few more of the more exotic offerings - they were still fair to middlin... The Rossie II, though, continued to show me her stuff. I had to have one... Knowing that this was a hoary old model that's been tramping around greens for more than a few seasons, I decided to check eBay and Golf Club Exchange, and sure enough, there were many available at rock-bottom prices. Numerous shaft lengths, and even some models with heavier bronze heads were up for sale. I ended up with the steel version pictured here, recently re-dressed in a new, sticky-like mid-sized Winn pistol grip.

It's a mallet, so it's face-balanced, which is probably best for most of us (like it or not.) Even "The One" only opens and closes his Scotty Cameron 1 degree through the stroke, so a face-balanced putter is more likely to help keep all of us duffers putting a little more squarely down the line. Mine has the black plastic insert - newer versions come with a variety of inserts, and choosing your favorite is really a matter of feel. I suggest, though, making sure that you choose one with alignment markings the same as mine - I find them to be the most intuitive, and they help keep my eye right over the target line - just keep the single alignment mark between the two lines on the back of the head, and you know you're all square. The new slightly larger mid-sized grip seems to take my wrists out of the stroke even more.

My regular playing partner uses a newer Ping blade, and seems to be able to drain it from every where, hence is golfin moniker, "The Blade!" (Yes, it is spoken with the exclamation point when used. Such as, when he rolls one in from just of the green, 25 feet, through a double break and a half-dozen untended pitch marks into the can, his partners are obliged to call out "The Blade!" in salute and recognition.)

Such feats appear even more amazing when one considers the, shall we say, unorthodox putting stroke that he employs. It's a distinct out-to-in jab at the ball (it's the kind of stroke I'd use if I wanted to slice putts) which leaves his opponents even more incredulous when the damn ball roles straight to the hole. I have never and will never tell him what's wrong with his putting stroke - I might ruin his putting game and send him back to bowling with his spouse, "The Decider." I have to guess that the toe-balanced Ping must enable him to square up the face about a millisecond before impact, and just enough to counter the angular, glancing blow such that a straight roll of the ball somehow results. It's a wonder to witness in person.

My other putter is, alas, a blade, and I believe it to be the second best putter ever made. It's a sleek, sharp looking Odyssey EFX 9900, the head somewhat resembles the old Ping B66, touted by Golf Club Review.com to be the straightest putter in it's day. The 9900 served me well, but in repeated scientific basement carpet putting tests, the Rossie II meets or beats the 9900 every time. Still, I find it a good exercise to take the 9900 out for some air at times - I seem to have a good round with it, and my putting improves further still when I return to old Rossie. There's much truth in the notion that change for the sake of change can spark your game. I understand that more than a few tour pros change putters regularly for similar reasons.

Ol' Rossie is weighted just right - heavy enough to stay stable on short putts, but not so heavy to remove feel from the longer ones. While the face is a plain-jane flat plastic insert, face it guys, all those grooves and inserts and doo-dads that are supposed to impart top-spin or other effects don't really give most of us what we need... Guys that I play with really need to keep the club on plane, face square to the target line at impact. A millisecond of putter back-spin isn't what keeps my handicap in the high-teens...

Still, if you gotta have the newest so-called technology, there are more than a few mallet heads that look just like ol' Rossie, and they come in a variety of face configurations - perhaps you could find the best of both worlds. Me? I got my fat and sticky grip on my old stick, and I'll be out there showing The Blade what ol' Rossie and I can do this season...

GF

Snow Practice Makes Perfect

Snow's good for nothing. Unless you're a skier or a kid who hates school, it just creates a mess, and makes every aspect of daily life a little harder. At least that's what I thought until Saturday, when I took a break from cleaning frozen slush off the SUV to whack a few ice-balls with my 5 iron.

First thing I noticed, the club was really, really clean after a half-dozen whacks.

The next thing I noticed was that my club-head left a perfect representation of the club-head path in the snow. While I was swinging, the club head carved a perfect groove in the snow right at the bottom of my swing. I moved to a part of the snow drift that was about 6" deep, and after two whacks, could see an even better representation of the club head path. I learned some interesting things: First, my club head bottomed out right of center - not bad if I was using a driver, but these shots would have been fat for an iron; I learned that my clubhead path is slightly inside out, which explains why my usual miss is a push.

Even better, I found that the groove left in the snow gave me an excellent way to practice "grooving" my swing. Once I established a good snow-groove, and I did this by keeping the clubhead outside my hands a little more until I achieved a groove that was more circular with an in-out-in path, I practiced this snow-grooved swing by repeatedly swinging the club through this snow-groove. If the club-head strayed and hit the walls of the groove, I changed spots and made another perfect groove.

No, it's not nearly as good as a day on the links, but a half-hour or so of snow-grooving got me up off the couch, helped me exercise my golf-muscles, and gave me a good feel for swinging the club on a better plane. (...and it left the clubs looking sparkling-clean to boot!)

GF

Perfect

I don't recall which hole it was, or if The One was up 5 or 6 over Cink, but The One was between clubs, about 215 or 220 out, there was much discussion, and Stevie had his hand on the 6 iron, ready to pull it. The One hit a high cut against the wind with choke-down 5 iron, the ball landed just past hole high, spun back just a little into gimme range. That's all you needed to see of Sunday's match to know how it was going to end. Cink should've conceded then, and caught the early flight home.

Like the 2006 British Open, The One conducted a clinic on how to dismantle a golf course and his opponents. His performance was almost boring in its precision and relentlessly effective execution. Badds played one of the rounds of his life on Friday, and still couldn't quite close the deal.

The One is on a run, and this recent streak, if it ended yesterday, would still partly define the 2008 season. But it takes no great leap to imagine that we are witnessing the start of a season for the ages - a Grand Slam appears within reach.... Byron's 11-in-a-row looks beatable....

What an incredible time to be a golf fan....

GF

Phil Gone, Tiger Goes On, Nick Pulls Punches

There was no doubt, was there, about Tiger's match. The only surprise was that he didn't win 9 and 8, or 6 and 5. Still, a comparably easy match for The One to move up a notch. Phil played great, but Stu played better - it's that simple. And Stu turned it on to come from behind - give the guy credit, he reached up and took it.

Still - Phil could have taken it with a well-timed 25 footer in the hole, but we just don't see Phil respond to the pressure in that way... We see The One do that sort of thing.

Open note to Nick Faldo - instead of saying "crumbs" as an exclamation, say what you feel man! We can take it! When you mean, "Crap!" just say "Crap!" When you mean "For Chrissake," just say it! You're on Cable - we expect it! Save the "crumbs" and "criminy" and "cheese and crackers" for the weekend when you're on Network Television, and a certain decorum is called for...

GF

Is "The One" Starting to Believe?

Five holes to go and three down - he'd never come back from a deficit like that as a pro in match play...

The rap on The One (and there aren't many raps that can stick) is that he's a great front-runner, but the big come-from-behind eludes him...

And then J.B. watched first hand as The One went on a run... Could he finally be starting to believe that a come-from-behind is well within his amazing grasp? Could the come-from-behind in Dubai be what he needed to prove it to himself? Tiger described this as a "run..."

Could this be the kind of run that continues through April.... Through June, July, and August? The kind of "run" that earns Tiger another thing he's not yet had - a Jones-like ticker-tape parade in the canyon of heroes?

GF

Really Great Golf Books

I'm not much of a reader - I'm good for 15 minutes of reading at a clip, and them I'm fast asleep, but I can attest to three books that have held my rapt attention, each about golf, and each by Mark Frost.

The Greatest Game Ever Played was my introduction, and if you were to read these recommended selections, I recommend that you start here. This is the story of Harry Vardon... Well, it's the story of Francis Ouimet.... no.. really it's the story of the birth of the sport of golf as we know it... actually, it's all of the above. Frost is a real life golf enthusiast - he gets what we get about the game like few other writers do. The big disappointment is that the movie that was inspired by the book was so poor, even though the screenplay was written by Frost himself. The book succeeds where the movie fails in that it captures key moments, crucial turning points that carry profound ramifications for the future of the story line, and in this case, the future of our sport. If you saw the movie, take it from me - forget about it, purge your mind of all impure thoughts, and read the book.

Grand Slam is the story of Bobby Jones and his historic Grand Slam.... well, actually it's the story of the birth of the sport of golf as we know it... actually, it's both! Don't confuse this book with that "Stroke of Genius" movie - this is the real deal, and that was anything but a golf movie. I'm not sure what it was... The book, however, delivers the goods, and again, Frost shows that amazing ability to capture crucial moments - a putt, a look, a conversation, even a lightning strike - that seem incidental, inconsequential at the time, but prove to have far-reaching implications.

The Match is the one I'm currently reading, and it's about a round of golf... well, it's about a round of golf played by Harvie Ward, Ken Venturi, Byron Nelson, and Ben Hogan.... well, really, it's the story of the birth of the sport of golf as .... well, you get the idea. I'm about halfway through this one, and it's a fitting continuation of the story of our sport as begun and continued by the first two.

I eagerly await Frost's books (and I hope he's got these on his schedule) about golf in the 50's, 60's, 70's and beyond. Even better, a book about Tiger Woods up to his first Master's victory in '97 - only he could do it justice! How great would it be to see another Frost book about Jack Nicklaus... or maybe about Arnold Palmer... or about Jack, Arnie and Gary... or about the birth of our favorite sport as we know it!

Take this golf tip from the Flogger - read and enjoy!

GF

Phil? Is That You?

Up until Phil held the trophy Sunday, I admit that I had no faith that he'd pull it out. As brilliantly as he played at times, there's never anything certain about a Phil Mickelson victory in the making. There's no inevitability to the outcome. Things could easily go south, or a surging Jeff Quinney, or JB Holmes, or Sean O'Hair could leave Phil holding the runner-up silver bowl. But Phil showed us something on Sunday - he won at Riviera. He took the match. He reached up and grabbed the victory.

Us Phil fans still have our doubts - and yes, I am a Phil fan. This is one in a row. But his loss to JB in his last tourney was won by JB - Phil didn't give it up. This week was Phil's turn to seize the day, and seize it he did. And Phil '08 is a different man than Phil '07 or Phil '06. He's quite noticeably fitter, leaner. He looks hungrier - maybe it's the lean look, or maybe he really is hungrier. Maybe this is all wishful thinking, but maybe it's not. Maybe it's Phil going for his career grand slam - or maybe the Grand Slam itself.

Go Phil! Golf needs you. Even "The One" needs you. The better the competition for The One, the better for the history of golf. So far, I like Phil '08. I like the promise of Phil '08. I can't wait to see how the coming weeks play out.

GF

Bethpage Black Kicked My Butt

Golf in the Northeast is lying dormant for now, so there's little else to do but ponder the year ahead, and consider the seasons passed. The snow reminds me that my first outing at Bethpage Black was in my youth, and was spent sleigh-riding, not playing golf. About 37 years later, my first golf outing there was among my most memorable golf outings of all.
It's a brute of a course, even when dumbed-down for us normal dubs. A scratch-golfing, golf-club member friend of mine declared that everyone - even he - ought to expect to shoot 6 or 7 strokes over what they normally shoot. He understated that case by a few, in my opinion.
While not spectacular in the way that Pebble Beach might be, The Black is remarkable in its own ways. After my maiden voyage there, I was able to recall every stroke on every hole - a first for me, and an indicator of just how special the course is. While many muni's give you a sense of deja vu from hole to hole, each hole on The Black is new tableau, a new challenge, distinct from the holes before and after, but somehow connected and related.
The first hole is non-descript, though deceiving in length. The elevated tee, from which much of the course can be surveyed, makes the first green appear closer than it is, but it's a fairway wood into the green for all but the longer hitters. The second hole demands a straight tee shot (or join me in the right rough) and a blind approach to an elevated green. The third green is bigger than in looks from the tee, and it's better to come up short than to overcook it into the woods beyond the green.
The most memorable moments for me included the first look from the 3rd green toward the 4th fairway, and the famous "glacier bunkers." Even better, I parred that baby with a competent tee and second shot, and a wedge to the green. I have yet to repeat that feat in 5 subsequent visits.
The fifth is like a right-handed big brother to the 2nd, both having blind shots to elevated greens, but the vista from the 5th tee box is as stunning as it is intimidating. The 6th demands local knowledge of the hidden dangers beyond the valley fronting the tee box - you can see the fairway, but you can't see far enough to make out where you want a long drive to land. It's target golf. The 7th fairway is easily reached for most of us, but it's just as easy to drive right through it into the left side rough. I've yet to play the par 3 8th without ending up on the hill to the right, but at least I've never had to make the back-to-front downhill putt that's sure to end up rolling off the green. The ninth demands a long tee shot to the right side of the fairway if you want to see the green. For me, I'm usually in the swale on the left side of the fairway taking a blind second shot to a green surrounded by bunkers.
Catch your breath after the 9th because you're just getting started.... Play the 10th like a par 5 - you might end up with a "birdie/par" if you leave yourself a short wedge to the green and pitch it in close. The 11th demands some local knowledge from the tee - the fairway isn't where you think it is... I've managed to clear the gigantic cross-bunker on 12 each time I've played there, but have yet to make the green, even with a flush-hit 3 wood. Thirteen is one of the most interesting and picturesque par 5's you'll ever see - after a generous landing area for your tee shot, trouble abounds for your second and third. The par 3 14th is a tester, playing longer than it looks, and with another large green as challenging as any on the course. The 15th is larger than life, the elevated green hidden and well protected - yet I've managed par that one each time I've played there. Hole 16 looks relatively harmless, but it's further to the fairway from the tee than it looks, and you'll spend time in the greenside bunker "complex" if you get too cocky. Hole 17 is intimidating, but do-able if you can hit your long iron or utility wood on the number. I've been in a fairway bunker each time I played the 18th except once - and that's when I duck-hooked my tee shot into the first fairway. From there, I pitched to the end of the fairway fronting the green, made a blind pitch to the flag, and just missed my par. Bogeys can be satisfying on The Black.
You will get your butt kicked on this course - it's larger than life in every respect - the grass is thicker, the turf is tougher, the bunkers are deeper and hungrier, the hills are higher and the valleys lower. It's a golf course with shoulders. This is not a "good walk spoiled," it's a trek through the wilds of a long island hardwood forest with golf thrown in. You may walk off 18 just feeling glad to survive, maybe glad that it's over, but you'll be back...
Here's be biggest challenge - getting a tee time! Reservations are by phone, and the hotline is constantly busy starting 10 minutes before the reservation window opens for the following week. As a result, I'm lucky to play there twice a year, but other players tell me that they have much better luck getting through. So, what's the deal with tee-times at Bethpage? If someone can clue me in, I'll regrip your clubs for you...
GF

Getting a Grip

The cord grips on the 762's were getting a little hard, the Launcher grip was looking tired. Off they came, and on went these beauties - Lamkin Permawrap Classics.

They look like standard tour-wrap grips, but have the cool stripe running along the wrap. They look great, feel sticky, and didn't cost near as much as some of the higher tech dual-density multicolor grips that the golfing-industrial marketing machine is trying to convince us that we need... I did, however, go for the sticky Winn pistol grips for the putters. I went for the mid-size on the Oddysey Rossie II - the fatter grip really does seem to take the hands out of it - extensive basement carpet test-putting proves it.

I did the regripping all by my lonesome, and it's really no big deal. You do need a workbench, some mineral spirits or thinner (soapy water works too,) something to catch the solvent when you soak the tape, some rubber gloves, and a little practice. Golfsmith has some great and easy to follow instructions here:
http://www.golfsmith.com/display_page.php?page_num=demonstration5&ln=N

OK, the grips are ready, the shoes are re-spiked, and I've got a new glove. All we need is Spring.

GF

This is Not Helping...

It snowed here in the Northeast last night, then rained over night creating slurpee-like conditions. The prospect of standing in a lush green fairway, waiting for the green to clear, hearing the birds chirp, and feeling the sun shine on my back seems as remote as my prospects of winning Mega Millions this week.

My morning train passes through a country club - it's hard to imagine all that frozen soup ever draining. It will, of course, and we'll be teeing off here in a month or two, depending on how desperate we are.

Of course, the prospect of standing in a fairway in any weather will remain remote until I start straightening out my tee shots...

- GF

"And So It Begins"

Welcome to the GolfFlog - the blog for real life golfers about real life golf. I've long been dismayed that mass-market golf, on TV, in magazines, in newspapers, is a poor reflection of golf in the real world:

- Most of us don't play golf at a private country club;

- Most of us don't buy a new set of clubs every season (or more than once a season);

- We don't spend a whole lot on lessons, and sometimes it shows. (Well, OK, most of the time it shows);

- Most of us don't have a USGA handicap, but if we did, we'd be around a 19;

- We have a good notion of the history of this great game, and we know we're lucky to watch history in the making each time The One chooses to play.

We play on public courses, and at the occasional outing, on vacation, or with a CC buddy at a private club.

We buy a new club or bag or shoes once a year or so - but we change irons only a little more often than we change cars.

We're working guys! We play on weekends at the most crowded times on our favorite munis!

This blog will be about THAT golfin life - not the golfin life we read about in those two magazines that most of us get...

I hope you identify with and enjoy the GolfFlog - I'll be logging my thoughts and experiences here, and I'll be flogging some of the conventions of mass-market-media, un-real golf right here, and I hope you'll do the same.

The Harder you hit'em, the straighter they go!


- The GolfFlogger