There are two parts to me, the golf fan. The first part is the one that smirked when Zach Johnson’s putt was left the entire way on the last hole at Sherwood, the part of me that jumped out of my desk chair and pumped my fist when Tiger’s putt went in. That’s the part of me that live chatted 2011’s Masters, begging Tiger’s eagle put on the 15th at the Masters to go in. The part of me that watched the entire Monday playoff in the 2008 U.S. Open, watched his chip on 16th at the 2005 Masters roll and roll and roll… and then fall. That’s the part of me that hazily remembers the 1997 Masters. I call that part of me “Optimist.” Otherwise known as “Irrational.”
The other part, “Realist,” lives in a post-2009-Thanksgiving world. A world in which Tiger Woods destroyed himself. He’s not Ben Hogan and a bus didn’t nearly crush him late one night. He messed up. Post-2009 me, still a fan of Tiger’s on-course achievements, has felt stupid for two years for not moving on.
What am I supposed to do? Every time I think he’s done, he gives me the eighth hole at the Masters. Every time I think he’s back he gives me the PGA. Then he looks wholly average at the Frys.com, and event he could have dominated just two years ago. Now this. He wins an 18-man event, his own event, and I’m supposed to think he’s ready for 2012? He’s ready to challenge Nicklaus? He’s ready to tell Rory and Rickie “Eh, not yet guys?” I don’t think so.
Fellow golfers, it’s that time again. No, Lee Westwood hasn’t choked away another major; it’s the beginning of a new year. Time to hunker down under five feet of snow, wistfully stare at the golf clubs in your basement sitting on top of the treadmill collecting dust, and game plan for next year. You’re going to be a 10 handicap by June, and make it to the single-digit by August. That new driver you just got yourself for Christmas doesn’t look quite as nice, as you read the Golf Digest Equipment issue, but it’s a new year and you’re going to hit the ball longer than ever. A 48-inch driver shaft is all you’ve been missing. Accuracy be damned!
Hello again Sand Trapper and welcome to the 300th edition of everyone’s favorite column Hittin’ the Links. Yep, 300 columns, seems like yesterday that I started writing this. Well here’s to another 300.
Though some players may be making resolutions to 
The lyrics for the song used to help advertise the children’s toy the Slinky included the line that “for fun it’s the best of toys.”
“Stay out of the bunkers” is the warning from the starter on the first tee, which also happens to be the putting green at Atlantic City Country Club.
The Anser carries the same name as one of the early iron models Karsten Solheim produced before he transitioned to the popular investment-casting process. The newest version pushes the forging process to create performance benefits not previously associated with a forged club.