Question:
I hate that, I can only imagine what that did to new chrome clubs. For that reason I have 3 or 4 "crap" clubs I use to work on my swing when I’m stuck with mats.
Actually it’s not too bad. A little 409 and paper towel and they clean right up. As long as I don’t let it sit there too long. But then, cleaning my clubs is kinda fun. To me, anyway. -b
Response:
So I imagined what it would feel like to have the headcovers or towels jammed into my armpits. Aside from the sweat-cum-Right Guard-goo, that is.
YUK!! I understand the sweat and the Right Guard but ……? What else have you been jamming into your armpits? -JR
Response:
Aside from the sweat-cum-Right Guard-goo, that is. YUK!! I understand the sweat and the Right Guard but ……? What else have you been jamming into your armpits?
<sigh Use of the word "cum" in the Latin sense of "with" rather than the more vulgar spelling we’re accustomed to. I.E., summa cum laude. However, now that you mention it, it’s pretty funny. And, it does help the head covers adhere a little better. -b
Response:
Started out early that day. Got to the practice range and turned in the leased TourEdge clubs. They had everyone using mats that day. Take out the PW, and start with gentle swings trying to make the turn and keep decent tempo. And topped the ball. And topped the ball.
Sounds like what I did yesterday. I musta hit 25 balls with my wedges and didn’t hit more than 4 of them well. I knew my back was sore and stiff, but this was ridiculous. So I gave up in disgust and went to the chipping green which was the reason I came, but on the way made myself hit about 15 balls out of the bunker. My short game was the worst during the last 9 holes I played Saturday so I needed to get a feel for distances again Done with that I still had about 12 balls left so I figured I’d waste them with my driver, fw wood and 3 iron. Damn if I didn’t hit them well. Can’t hit a sand wedge but I can blast my fw metal off the deck? What has been working lately is to slow my swing down enough so I can start my hip turn before my hands have a chance to cast the club. What seems to happen is that the hip turn will lead my hands to drop and once they do I can get away with as much kill instinct as I want cause the downswing has already started in the right slot. As long as I let my wrists release the club the ball goes straight. One thing is that it abbreviated my backswing, which is a good thing. I am really flexible in my upper body and taking too much backswing is sometimes a problem for me. The second is that holding the arms in this position seems to dampen the speed I usually try to swing with. This effectively corrects my tendency to pull a Chuck Yeager with the club head and settle into a regular tempo. Oh, Buddha. It worked.
Too much backswing is my biggest deathmove, nothing good comes from it. I’ve seen the headcover drill and even seen VJ doing it on the practice tee warming up for a tournament. I like the idea for the left arm, but to do it for the right arm would screw me up big time. I can see how it would shorten up your backswing and cripple any possibility of starting your downswing with your hands. But it seems to me to be another good way of getting to the same place I got by making myself slow down. I have to say, more accurately, that it *seems* like it worked. I was hitting much more crisply, straighter, not topping the ball, and getting that proper waxy film of green stuff from the mats on my new clubs, which pissed me off.
I hate that, I can only imagine what that did to new chrome clubs. For that reason I have 3 or 4 "crap" clubs I use to work on my swing when I’m stuck with mats.
Response:
I don’t know Mike. Never met em’. Don’t know what his favorite brand of beer is, what he looks like, what he does for a living, or what girl deflowered him when he was younger,
Hey Bill, There are a few of us here that have known Mike D a lot longer than you, and even we don’t know who "deflowered" him when he was younger. Maybe Mike can help shed some light on this very important question, now that it has been raised!!! Eric "the Hammer"
Response:
Anticlimactic would be the word, because it was basically a clone of lesson five, except that we started out with a brief class on using fairway woods and drivers… Started out early that day. Got to the practice range and turned in the leased TourEdge clubs. They had everyone using mats that day. Take out the PW, and start with gentle swings trying to make the turn and keep decent tempo. And topped the ball. And topped the ball. After seven or eight shots, and considering which club in the bag would be best for seppuku (decided on the 56 deg. wedge, if you’re interested) I thought of Mike Dalecki. I don’t know Mike. Never met em’. Don’t know what his favorite brand of beer is, what he looks like, what he does for a living, or what girl deflowered him when he was younger, but I know two things. 1) He seems to be a smart guy who knows a lot about club making. 2) He’s repeatedly mentioned this "Headcover Drill." Now, being the narcissistic, egotistical and insecure brat that I am, I decided that I wasn’t going to try a true headcover drill in the presence of my fellow students and possibly my instructor. Also, I was secretly harboring the tiny hope that if it worked in my head I could claim credit for fixing my own swing. So I imagined what it would feel like to have the headcovers or towels jammed into my armpits. Aside from the sweat-cum-Right Guard-goo, that is. To me, it felt a little like I was trying to keep my biceps much closer to the outer pectorals, and it felt a little strange, but it felt…right. Like this is what I was supposed to be doing. One thing is that it abbreviated my backswing, which is a good thing. I am really flexible in my upper body and taking too much backswing is sometimes a problem for me. The second is that holding the arms in this position seems to dampen the speed I usually try to swing with. This effectively corrects my tendency to pull a Chuck Yeager with the club head and settle into a regular tempo. Oh, Buddha. It worked. Waitaminute. Being the type of person that believes correllation does not prove causation, I have to say, more accurately, that it *seems* like it worked. I was hitting much more crisply, straighter, not topping the ball, and getting that proper waxy film of green stuff from the mats on my new clubs, which pissed me off. But at least the waxy marks were straight, perpindicular to the clubface. Class finally started up, and Steve ran us through alignment for fairway woods and drivers. I, of course, began to get nervous again and commenced to Ginsu the upper-right range quadrant. Maybe there’s some unconscious part of me that just *hates* the right-hand side of the range and wishes to punish it with a hailstorm of balls. We did this for a bit, and then Steve said he was going to give us an optional 20-minute putting refresher, and those who wanted to take it could meet him over on the practice green. I bag the lumber and walk to the practice green. My putting is worse than anything else. I’m apparently the only one who thinks he needs putting practice. Steve grins. "Okay, Billy, let’s go over reading greens again…" After ten minutes or so, a couple more students filter in, but they’re mostly watching. I’m starting to be able to tell who’s serious about continuing the classes and who isn’t. Those who aren’t are futzing around. Those who are have this intense look on their faces – one of the guys in my class named Arun (that’s uh-roon) and I start putting and working things out. The putting improves, but only gradually. I like Arun. He’s got this cool-looking compact swing. We head out to the course in a squadron of golf carts. Two balls each, working on fairway and approach shots. And under pressure with people in the class I can’t make a decent shot. Vicious slices or worm burners, but then, neither can anyone else in the class, either. My pride is damaged, and I’m ashamed of this fact because I know that I shouldn’t be comparing myself to anyone else in the class, but I have a naturally competitive streak in me and I want to excel and be the best in the class. I’ve mentioned it before, but I really want Steve to say "Wow – killer shot, Billy. That’s the way I taught you." It doesn’t happen for anyone. After we do a couple holes of this Steve says we’re going to play a scramble – class against him. We all shoot like crap, but there’s 12 of us, and by sheer numbers we win the hole by decent putting. Second scramble hole and everyone feels really silly, because none of us are striking the ball well. Steve pounds a drive downrange and we alternately skull, hook and slice. Finally one of the balls gets somewhat downrange, though it’s hard to see because we’re running out of daylight, and we move on. At this point, my irritation with my ballstriking is becoming this nasty ego-fueled anger-thing. I step up to take my second shot with a five-iron and pure it just to the right of the hole. No more anger. Nothing. Lesson’s over for the day. I am my own worst enemy on the course. Next Sunday, we play a best-ball scramble. I have to say that I really prefer stroke play, but it’s a class thing and supposed to be fun, so I’m going to attend. And sign up for the front-nine class, which is the next in the series. Thanks for reading. -b