smith5606

Oh my goodness. Have sunken to this level of discourse? How could anyone demean the joy of such an innocent child, for whatever purpose? One of the definitions of retarded in my dictionary indicates that retardation can refer to the lack of emotional development in an individual. I would suggest that there is something truly emotionally retarded about someone, anyone, who could even consider such a picture appropriate - in any concievable context. Look into the eyes of this beatiful child. I bet that if he could play golf, he wouldn't care if he hit a 300 yard drive or even a 30 yard drive. He would treasure the joy of spending a few hours in the sunlight, playing with people he loves, hearing the squeek of the straps on his golf bag, and the clank of the clubs as the bounced against each other was he walked. Imagine the exhilaration of hitting the ball down the fairway with limbs that are twisted or are barely controlable and the feeling of accomplishment of hearing the ball finally fall into the cup. Image how you would feel if that child were yours. How would you feel about a picture like this? May God bless this innocent child and forever shield him from those who would demean him. May God also bless those who feel compelled to exploit the infirmaties of others. I hope that He leads them to think before they act, to protect those who can't protect themselves, and to love with the purity of a child.

My personality is so addictive that my wife says that anything I do more than twice - I'll eventually wind up in a 12-step program for. I had to go cold turkey for my equipment condition. I bought my irons this summer and swore that they would stay in my bag until someone invents a better forged MB. My only hope is that the golf manufacturing cartel will opt to put all of their collective efforts into inventing other ways to strip the Ho'ing community away from their hard earned money.

The drill that seems to have had the most impact on my game is chipping one ball onto a practice green and trying to get up and down. I only use one ball at a time because that's all my partners will let me use when we play.

Seems to be time of year for stray thoughts. I was wondering last night - if I was asked to name the most important thing I have learned about golf in the last 50 years or so, what would it be? Since I asked the question: (although I have absolutely no empirical data to support my position) I believe that the single most crucial element in a golf portfolio is the ability to consistently sink a five foot putt. Obviously, its not the only element, just the most singificant predictor. Care to comment?

When I hear someone say "I love to golf" or "I am going golfing", it is like fingernails on a blackboard. I love to play golf and go to play golf regularly. I also like to play bridge and Monopoly but I would not like to "bridge" or "Monopoly". Does anyone else share my horror at the way our sport is referred to - even by people who ought to know better?

Instead of hiding behind a "rule", good sense would seem to indicate that if there is a clear hole in front of you and a foursome is pushing up behind you, the right thing to do is let the group behind play through. The operative "rule" seems to me to start with the following - "do unto others...", IMHO.

I want to tee-off whenever I can finish about 30 minutes before sundown. Its the best time to be on the course, IMHO.

I hope we both do.

I have been stewing over this question for a couple of days now. I wish that I could say something profound to express how I feel about golf better than to simply say that golf makes me "happy". I "happy" means that I feel joy after every shot or even every time I leave the course, I guess golf doesn't make me happy. Simply put, golf is very hard. Golf is frequently frustrating, periodically fulfilling, generally maddening, but never boring. Certainly, I frequently feel happy when I play, but not always. To conclude that golf makes me happy or not happy for that manner really doesn't do the question justice, however. Golf is too much a part of who and what I am to reduce it to mere feelings of happiness. Golf is much more than that. Golf is my fondest memories of my late father who taught me how to play, my son who I taught to play, my grandson who I someday hope to pass golf along to. Golf is a group of wonderful friends, summer afternoons, great trips, irreplaceable memories, and dreams yet to be fulfilled. When I am on the course, I really believe I am a part of a wonderful fraternity of people who know the sublime elation and sorrows that this preoccupation of ours brings. I know that these feeling aren't solely the property of the living. In the late evening, playing a couple of balls down a fairway, I can feel the joy of a thousand other golfers whose spirits are imbedded inextricably on the greens, bunkers, roughs, and tee boxes around me. Maybe, what I'm trying to say is that while I like golf, what I really like - even love, if you will - is being a golfer. When I finally join those happy spirits whose voices you can hear if listen after everyone else has left the course, I hope that my legacy will be in what I have contributed by nurturing the game that was left to me. I won't leave my artwork, handicraft, stirring words, or vast fortune because I don't have any to leave. Instead, I hope that I will have passed along to my children and my children's children what the game is really about. They will know something about what it means to be a responsible, mature, golfer - how to play within the rules, how to fix a divot, how to keep up, when to allow someone to play through, and how to be gracious in victory and in defeat. If I will have done that, I will have loved the game back that loved me all my life.

Alignment and grip. Then as little as humanly possible. My dad used to say that when I thought too much, I weakened the war effort.

I hope it helps. I promise I'm not picking on you but it does amaze me how ofter we try to find solutions to our golf problems by changing equipment. I can't help but think of the putters past greats used to drill putts. Most of us would be embarassed to have one in our bags.

This summer has been a truly memorable one for me as I finally (after 50 years of futility) learned how to putt. Strangely, what seemed to help most was concentrating on hitting the ball in the center of my putter face. I never realized how many times I miss-hit my putts. This seems to have effected both direction and distance control a great deal. That one thing was responsible for a great deal of my improvement. The other simple thing that seemed to help was slowing down and treating a putt with the importance it deserved. I actually look at the line from all four sides, try to estimate speed, go through a pre-putt routine, and try to strike the putt with a very still head (and body). I know all of this sounds very simple but the results in my case were incredible. Hope some of this helps. PS I "officially" named by putter after my granddaughter. I could never treat her or "it" without a great deal of respect now could I.

I am really amazed at how often threads like this pop up on this forum. It seems that - at least for some golfers - there seems to be some nagging feeling that there is something missing from their games. I have posted before my personal feelings about the influence of club manufacturers in promoting a culture that emphasizes golf equipment over proper technique. For my part, going back to older style equipment has added a great deal to my enjoyment of the game by bringing me back to the basics. I know that for many, this makes absolutely no sense. For them, I say ignore this post. But for others who do hear that "still, small voice" that tells asks you if you are really a better golfer for all of the money you have spent of new club technology over the years - pick up an old set of blades and a persimmon headed driver and hit them for a few weeks. They will drive you crazy for a while. But after you finally come to terms with their crankiness, you might experience the joy that made you love the game when you first picked up a club. Good luck.

I would be happy to play in your foursom, anytime. I would only add the following 1. After playing a ball out of sand bunker, clean your shoes before you step on to the green. 2. Congratulate an opponent after a good shot. 3. Don't hustle the cart girl. 4. Act like an adult. I am not interested in how you feel about your shot when I am four holes away and not a part of your foursome. 5. If you hit a shot into another fairway, hit it out quickly and without bothering the group whose fairway you are on. 6. Act like an adult (Wait a minute, I think I already said that.)

Please remember that any advice you get from me is worth exactly what you pay for it. With that said, I have found that the less I think after I have set up (during a real round) the better off I am. I try to completely clear my mind, focusing only on the ball. Then, I let my "natural" swing take over. NOTE: That natural swing has been honed through hours of practice, hopefully practice enough to engrain the swing into my hands, arms, back, sholderss, and legs. If I have done my job on the practice tee, I don't have to think about anything except hitting the ball. If and only if all of the about is true, I have a repeatable swing,, just like Mr. Hogan said I needed. If all of the above fails to help, see a teaching pro. Then you'll get advice that means something.

I know this is going to sound like B*** S*** but I played in at 40+ MPH wind yesterday. Didn't score at all well but, I was striking the ball very well . . . the best I have hit the ball in a long time. I realized that the feeling of a well struck shot, into a howling wind produced a shot that was not like any other. Of course they didn't go nearly as far as normal (in case you are wondering I hit a "perfect" 18* rescue pin-high from 160 yards - at least a three club difference. Had similar results with 3-metal, 3-iron, and even my PW. If you have a chance, try it.

Had my knee replaced in May of 2007. My only regret was that I waited so long. My golf life was miserable because I couldn't walk the course. I was young enough (57) and strong enough to be hitting balls by the beginning of July and actually walked 9 holes before school started. You have a "problem" that I don't have however - you can play golf 12 months out of the year. When you live where I live, you get used to periods of little or no golf so a 4 month hiatus from golf must seem like forever. If you can, wait until the crappiest time of the year (whenever that is) not during prime-time golf season (like I did), though. If you plan ahead (like I didn't), you can really minimize the damage. Good Luck.

Just to throw a little gasoline on the old fire, I found this quote from Katsuhiro Miura in a October 1, 2008 press release, announcing the introduction of his latest muscle-backed blade. When asked why he would be introducing a smaller iron when the industry standard now seems to be mid-size and oversize irons, Mr. Miura responded: "Industry fads mean nothing to me. These fads are developed by the marketing departments of the equipment manufacturers simply to boost sales and have little to do with performance. (Emphasis added) What I care about is creating the most perfect performing golf clubs for golfers, and different golfers have different preferences. I believe there is a class of golfer who will very much appreciate the qualities of the Small Blade, and I have made this club for these golfers. This club is for two kinds of golfers - the first being the golfer who generally strikes the ball on the sweet spot and who wants to simply enjoy the unique pleasure of a perfect shot hit with a Miura club - the second being the golfer who really wants to improve and is looking for the most intelligent feedback on every shot he or she hits. Frankly, if people can cleanse their minds of the marketing hype that has been fed to them over the years, they might find that that forged blades are not necessarily only for the single digit handicappers. You are not penalized for mishit shots to the degree people believe and there are many advantages to these clubs, for example the Small Blade cuts through rough more efficiently than any other club." I seem to remember an old axiom that says (pardon my paraphrasing) that if you repeat something enough times, it becomes truth. I wonder if someday, we won't look back on the "equipment revolution" of the last decade or so and come to realization that what was promised was only an illusion - that there is no short-cut to good golf that can be found in a golf shop. You have to hit the ball in the middle of the club face, control your swing path, have a good tempo and balance. Feel, ability to read a green, a steady hand, and a deep, unabiding love for the game and all it represents don't hurt, certainly. I'm not saying, I'm just saying . . .

I've played Tribute several times and enjoyed it each time. Pricey, but if you play after 2:00pm it's not that bad. Texas Star was fun and if you don't mind driving, Twin Lakes at Canton is a fun test.

I played Bandon Dunes the second summer it was open. I think it cost me $140 or so. I've played it at least 100 times in my dreams since then. Not a bad investment. I can't wait until I can play it, Pacific Dunes, and Pacific Trails again for real. I understand that if you have the stamina to play them all on the same day, you can play the second at half price and the third for free. Not that's a bargain.

Pointy-headed, intellectually snobbish, over-educated, but gainfully emplyed college business professor.

I have no grounds for snobbery. Some days I play like Arnold Palmer, other days like Arnold Stang (if you know who he is, you probably know what a Club Special is, too). However, I do get a real kick out of the Sunday foursome, formed Saturday night after copious amounts of alcohol, who show up still loaded, add to their load throughout the round, and are amazed that - because of some undefinable act of nature - they are not able to play their normal scratch round of golf or hit their average 300+ yard drives (or even keep them on the course, for that matter). If I didn't have to wait every shot while they look for a lost ball (for the 100th time), instruct the other members on the finer points of course management and shot making, and hustle the cart girl - they'd be more fun than Red Green. Unfortunately, I have a yard to mow. I wish they'd take up trap shooting or catfish noodling.

Must be. I hit 300 yd. drives regularly. I live in Kansas. Play here in March and April. Three-hundred yards is a cinch. Of course your next drive is probably goin' to be a might shorter - ever had one blown back at you. Oh! the pleasures of playin' golf on the prairre.

Compared to most of the assumptions I made in my post, that is one of the minor ones.

It's been a while since anyone posted on this topic. I guess all of the passions that were raised by the original question have cooled. It’s obvious that the question has provoked a great deal of thought but like most important questions, few, if any, important answers. I have decided to reply now with the fervent hope that no one actually reads this thinking they will find any answer to the question, or even worse, feels compelled to respond to it. My comments are not really meant to address whether modern equipment fixation is causing something to be wrong with golf today. What follows is rather a very personal statement about my own equipment addiction and why I intend to do something radical about it. Take from it what you will. Several weeks ago, I was moving things around in my office and came across my father’s beautiful, very old, Kroydon 2-wood. I have kept it behind my office door since my dad died in 1999. Because the door is almost never closed, I almost never see it. But there it was on that cool rainy day, sitting and waiting patiently for me to pick it up again. Other than the new grip Daddy put on just before he died, it looks exactly like it looked 50 years or so ago when I first remember seeing it. It’s wonderfully aged persimmon head, fluted shaft, and perfect balance had not changed. When I put my hands on the grip, memories of the man who swung it, the man who taught me how to play the game, and the man I alternately loved and hated for fifty years, came back in a rush. I could still see the old Louisville Slugger blades and the bronze Ben Hogan putter he used I recalled the wonderful times he and I shared chasing little white balls around innumerable courses, how important I felt pulling his ancient pull cart behind me – because I was his caddie. I remembered how as a kid I was in awe of the precision with which he struck the ball, the predictability of the little draw that he hit, and the beautiful arc – starting low, then rising into the sky – of almost every drive I ever saw him hit. All of those wonderful memories from that old Kroydon 2-wood. What’s “wrong” with my golf today is that I traded the opportunity to leave my son an equally tangible part of myself for a failed quest. Because I quested for the holy grail of the perfect golf club, I cannot leave anything to my son with the same powerful attachment that my dad’s club has for me. You see, “my clubs” have changed 10 times in 10 years. I, like so many others, have fallen victim to the rapidly changing technology of golf and the promises of instant results that we buy them for. I have had at least 5 sets of irons, 4 drivers, 4 different sets of fairway woods, three sets of hybrids, and more putters than I can count since my dad died. Unfortunately, all produced equally unsuccessful results. Not surprisingly, I have almost the same handicap I had 10 years when my equipment addiction started and very little to show for all of my effort. Fortunately, I do have great golf memories with my own son. When he was ready to learn, I taught him all that I know about the game. My son and I have played a lot of golf together, had great moments, and shared days on the course that I hope will stay with him long after I am gone. What he won’t have, unless I do something radically different in my golfing journey, are “my clubs” to channel memories for him as my dad’s clubs do for me. Therefore, I have decided to do something different. I sold off my collection of failed golf experiments. I took the proceeds and bought a set of Titleist muscle-backed blades. I also bought a new “old” Louisville persimmon driver on Ebay. This winter, I will add two new “old” persimmon fairway woods. I have turned my back on the panacea that modern golf equipment has promised us of excellence without perspiration. I am going back to the game I first learned from my dad almost 50 years ago. I am convinced that my game will not suffer. In fact, I really believe that in the long run it will actually improve. I am aware that my “new” clubs are cranky and do not suffer poor swings gladly. I am prepared for a loss of distance, occasionally wounded ducks, and ugly fluttering flameouts. I am willing suffer these humiliations because, in the long run, I will learn how to avoid them by actually working on my swing again. I am fortunate that all of the damage that modern equipment has done has not completely ruined the swing I learned from the wonderful teacher who spent hours working with me – my dad. I have a great foundation to rebuild my game on. But, even more importantly, it is my intent that this set will be “my clubs” for the rest of my golfing life. I am convinced that golf clubs are different than other sporting equipment (with the possible exception of shotguns, pool cues, and ball gloves). If we use them long enough, in some metaphysical way, a part of our being is imbedded within them. In short, they become “ours”. At least I hope so. (I am also convinced, in case of golf clubs, that the new stuff doesn’t have same capability to store dreams that muscle-backed blades and persimmon headed woods have. Titanium woods and perimeter-weighted, cavity back irons simply lack soul.) I have no idea what my son will do with my clubs when he inherits them. But I hope that some rainy day, he might find one hiding behind his office door. I hope that it will invoke a memory or two of the times we shared. If that is the case, I can’t help but think that I will feel that I have accomplished something important. If not, it will still be wonderful for me, thinking that I tried. So, if you come upon an old man on some tee-box and you notice a worn bag full of equally old clubs - be very respectful. Remember, he is not only playing the game he deeply loves. He is also weaving dreams.