Golfer's Start-Up by Doug Werner

Author:Doug Werner [Werner, Doug]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-935937-33-3
Publisher: Tracks Publishing
Published: 2010-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Sometimes I would simply freeze when I addressed the ball. I’d set up, think about everything I was supposed to do, and go completely numb. I can imagine a sort of golfer’s graveyard where they take all the short-circuited beginners, spray them with a coat of plaster and sell them as lawn ornaments.

I finally got to the point where I’d hit one good ball for every 10. But it was still pretty streaky. Sometimes I’d hit three good shots in a row and then I couldn’t hit beans. Sometimes I’d hit one solidly and then whack 15 toppers in a row. I tried to keep my expectations low. I really only wanted to hit the ball. If I missed the ball completely only once or twice during a session, I was happy. I stubbornly kept using my borrowed clubs although the grip unwound on my 5-iron, so I used the 6-iron, which also unwound, so I used the 7-iron.

After two or three lessons my instructor had me hit the ball with something called the Medicus, which is a medieval device held together with hinges. You can only swing it successfully with a Perfect Swing. Otherwise it will flop on its hinges and prevent you from striking the ball. The theory is that you either learn to swing it right or go mad with frustration trying. As ridiculous as this sounds, the Medicus is one of those gizmos that really turn golfers on. But then any golfing gizmo turns golfers on. Seems this sport thrives on widgets guaranteed to improve your game. Gizmos are to golfers as health and beauty aids are to unhealthy and unattractive people (maybe, just maybe this will work!). I did hit a few with the Medicus, but only because the gods smiled. And in all fairness to the Medicus, it certainly is an impressively engineered contraption. Maybe they could do something with snowboards or tennis rackets.

After four weeks I got to the point where I had some good outings. I actually hit one ball well for every five hit poorly. I’d practice with my clubs, the instructor’s 5-iron and even the Medicus. I began to think I was making progress. I was on my way!

The fifth and final lesson, however, was a disaster. I hit the ball worse than I had a month earlier. When he put his hand on my head to keep it from bobbing, I snapped. Throwing the club down I said, “I quit. This friggin game is for the birds.”

Gizmos are to golfers as health and beauty aids are to unhealthy and unattractive people (maybe, just maybe this will work!).

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