Clipping Dandelions

Since I've stopped having the lawn sprayed, I have an excellent crop of dandelions.  And dandelions can be really good for your golf game.

I think the one thing I often forget, especially when facing a particularly difficult shot, is that the golf ball is small, light, and easy to get moving.  That being the case, why is it that I keep hacking at it like a caveman trying to kill his lunch?

I have been convinced of the fact that there is some real genius in Harvey Penick's "clip the tee" drill.  He claimed not to know why, but clipping the tee under the ball caused the golfer to square his clubface.  Harvey liked to see a golfer just clip, or sweep, the ball off the turf.  He wouldn't have been impressed with some of the divots I take--divots you could bury small mammals in.

Remove that golf ball, that just stares back at us, daring us to make a mistake, and our swing becomes smoother, more relaxed, and more effective.  It's that damned ball that seems to mess so many of us up.  If we could only trust the fact that the ball is small, and light, and that our clubs are well designed and more than capable of getting the ball in the air and on its way, we would be much better players.  I am convinced that if I could just keep clipping the tee, or brushing the grass under the ball--swinging like I'm just clipping the heads off daisies, or dandelions--I would continue to see better results with much less effort.

Yesterday I was clipping the tee like Harvey taught, and was hitting some great shots straight at the pin.  But for the fact that I missed quite a few putts, I would have felt like a real golfer.  I was just brushing the turf, or taking nice bacon-strip divots.  It was effortless, and my back wasn't hurting.  That Harvey Penick was one smart teacher.

This Spring I intend to spend more time in the yard just clipping the heads off those dandelions.  It's great for my swing.  Until then, when I'm consigned to the indoor range, I'm going to focus on just brushing the astroturf under the ball, instead of bashing my club into the turf like a caveman.  My swing feels so good and relaxed when I'm just clipping dandelions.  And man, do those dandelions fly.

I watched, and posted, a video of Bobby Jones.  His swing was so free and effortless.  I think the last shot filmed was a 245 yard fairway wood to a couple of feet on a par five.  He looked so relaxed, you would have thought he was just clipping the head off a dandelion.  Not that I really have a problem with dandelions.  People use them in salads, and make wine with them.  But they are also an excellent swing aid.

Ocean City-Newport Bay

We played the Ocean City-Newport Bay course today.  While the dormant Bermuda fairways took something away from it's beauty, the course is beautiful nonetheless, with almost constant water or marsh views.  As my son said, the course must be terrific in the summer when everything is green.  The greens were excellent.  From the blue tees, Newport Bay plays 6307 yards, which is just about right for an old guy like me.

It was another one of those "if" days, where but for two silly holes where I made triple bogeys I would have given Old Man Par a serious run for his money.  On the other hand, an old guy like me is pretty happy to break eighty from the blue tees on a course he's never played before.

I managed, all day, to just play with my natural swing.  By my natural swing, I mean the swing I use when I swing with my eyes closed, or the swing I use when I'm just clipping the heads off dandelions.  It's a swing where I just swing and think of nothing, and I hit the ball about as well as I've hit it in ages.  After today, I hope I can be convinced to just keep doing the same thing.  But, once a tinkerer...

I really enjoyed the course, but was advised by the young man in the pro shop that, while Newport Bay is the prettier of the two courses at Ocean City, Seaside is his preferred course because of its shot values.  Therefore, I'll have to try to play it as well.  

This was my favourite course in the Ocean City area so far.  I may, however, play Rum Pointe before we make the trek back to the north country.  It's a Pete Dye and son collaboration, which is supposed to be another scenic gem.  One thing is for certain, Ocean City has some terrific golf on offer at very affordable rates.  This will definitely not be my last trip to this neck of the woods.

Ocean City Blues

It's funny how many of us just never learn.  We played Ocean Pines Golf and Country Club near Ocean City, Maryland.  It's a Robert Trent Jones design, and, considering it's the middle of December, was a bit wet, but otherwise in very nice shape.

As usual, being one who can't seem to follow my own advice, I started playing using several different swings and putting styles on the front nine before I settled in to just hitting the damned ball at the target.  

For some reason, the course either seemed to play longer than its yardage, or I was just hitting it shorter.  Either way, many of my approach shots finished short, and I was forced to do lots of scrambling for pars that often ended up being bogeys.  Momma said there would be days like this.

In the end, it was a nice day with my son on a very nice course.  And, on the last hole, I actually played some golf.  After pushing my tee shot into the right trees, I punched a six iron out low towards the green.  It came to rest short and left of the green, leaving me short-sided to a front pin.  I grabbed my 60 degree wedge and headed for the ball announcing to Matt that I wouldn't be needing my putter because I intended to knock it in.  

Sure enough, I hit a nice little chip that hit the flag dead centre and ended up a few inches from the hole.  Matt just shook his head and said, "Thank goodness that ball didn't go in.  There'd have been no living with you."

I said, "Remember that article I wrote about call shots? That, my boy, was what you call a call shot."

Call Shots

I have discovered something quite interesting in my own game, and with others I've played with.  When you call your shots, you have a much better chance of making them.  I've seen it work time and again.

Having spent a lengthy time being discombobulated by different swing thoughts and theories, I have managed, for the last couple of rounds at least, to get back to picking a target, a shot, and just hitting it.  Whether it lasts--or how long it lasts--is really up to me.  The fact is, we are all actually better players than we often think we are; at least if we get out of our own way and let it happen.

I think I first noticed this call-shot phenomena playing scrambles.  When you play this format; picking the best shot, and everyone playing from there, I noticed that I was often able to hit some amazing shots after having called them.  A buddy of mine and our fathers played in a number of scrambles over a period of several years, winning several of them. 

I remember bumping into his father years after and him saying to me, "Remember that shot you hit on seventeen?"

I had hit a driver from under a tree, off a scruffy lie, up a hill to three feet on a par five.  We made eagle.  I had seen the shot, and called it.  It came off just as I described it; a cut that started low, under the branches and climbed enough to get up the hill, land twenty or so yards short of the pin, and after a bounce, curled around onto the green and snuggled up to the pin.  It was like magic.

There have been plenty of other shots over the years that were like that; shots that I first imagined, then described to my playing partners, and then produced.  I don't know how many times I've announced that I was going to hole a lengthy putt, or a chip, or a bunker shot, and then promptly did it.  

I've had buddies who have done the same thing.  In fact, a buddy and I used to routinely play call shots, where we would announce our target and describe our shot before we hit it, be it a low cut, or a high draw--I hate the high draw.  It always surprised us how often we managed to pull the shot off.

A few days ago, after struggling through another lousy round, preoccupied with swing thoughts, I came to the last hole.  I had eighty yards to the pin and said to myself, "I'm just going to knock this in the hole."  I was playing with only seven clubs, so I had to use a pitching wedge, producing a feel shot.  I struck the ball and watched it fly just as I imagined it, and from where I was standing seem to disappear into the hole.  I heard it rattle the pin.  As it turned out, the ball had not gone in.  It was about ten inches, directly behind the hole.  But it was a perfect shot.

I drove home, thinking about that last shot.  It convinced me to try to start playing call shots every time.  I've been trying to do it faithfully the last couple of rounds and have played pretty well.  The interesting thing is that it helps me not to think about my swing.  I seem to be able to get caught up in just hitting the shot, really focussing on where I'm going to hit it, instead of how I'm going to hit it.  The thing is, though, it takes discipline to do it every time.  You have to first imagine a shot; then picture it; then commit to it.  Then you just hit it. 

We see it every time we watch the pros play.  They are often heard discussing the shot with their caddie.  They settle on a shot, and then the pro, after describing it, often produces it.  Sure, they don't always pull the shot off.  But they do quite often.  I think that is one of the virtues of a caddie.  You have someone you can call your shot to who won't think you're an arrogant so-and-so.  In fact, the caddie wants you to call it, because it means you are committing yourself to hitting the shot; not just thinking about keeping your head down, or keeping your left arm straight.

I'm playing with Steve tomorrow and I'm going to try to get him to play "call shots."  It's amazing how often he produces the shot when he calls it.  Awhile ago, I had said to Steve, "I'm going to try to cut this drive off that end tree."  We were on number fifteen at Picton.

I missed the shot.  (Notice I told Steve I was going to try to cut it.  I should have said I'm just going to cut it--not try to cut it.)  Steve said, "Here, I'll show you how to cut it."  He teed one up and hit the prettiest cut you ever saw.  Sometimes--in fact, often--it works.

You don't even have to call the shot out loud if you don't want to.  You can call it in your head.  I often talk to my old father in my mind sometimes, telling him I'm going to hit this shot or that.  Damned if I don't often do it.  If you haven't tried it, I recommend you try playing call shots, just like when you're playing pool.  Better to play call shots, than to rely on fluking one in.

Spiros the Hammer

I played a friendly match the other day with Spiros.  That wee Greek so-and-so seems to really have my number lately.  

We were playing at Salt Creek Golf Links, near Warkworth.  It is a par 64, with a number of interesting, short holes, with Salt Creek meandering through it.  Having beaten me our last couple of outings, Spiros was content to accept a stroke on all the par fours and fives, which amounted to nine.

He promptly went out and shot 33 on the front with nothing worse than a four on his card.  This is a guy who claims a sixteen handicap.  I, on the other hand, couldn't piddle a drop on or around the greens and found myself five down after nine.  

Fortunately for me, Spiros tallied up his score after nine.  That proved to be a little more than he could comfortably handle.  After all, the awareness of a good round in progress can really weigh a man down.  Thanks to a couple of doubles by Spiros, and a couple of birdies by me, we arrived at sixteen with Spiros now only one up.

Spiros then made a par four on the tricky sixteenth, where the creek comes in to play off the tee and on the approach.  He then made another par on seventeen and beat me two and one.  Spiros had ballooned to 42 on the back, but still shot 75 in cold weather on greens that hadn't been cut, or the pins changed, for a couple of weeks.  Not bad for a sixteen handicapper.

Spiros feels that playing me has been good for his game.  He loves the competition.  I must admit that having to play my absolute best to try to beat him is good for me as well.  That's what makes this game so great.  Anyone can have a good match with anyone else, provided you get the strokes right. Spiros thinks, if I am willing to continue to let him beat me next year, he can get down to a ten, or twelve.  

Every round you learn something.  I learned that Spiros does not need nine strokes to beat my sorry you-know-what.  I also learned that Spiros really enjoys beating me like a drum.  But, most importantly, I learned, once again, that you can get whipped and still have fun, provided it's close.

Next time, Spiros.  Next time I'll be ready.

Free Advice

I love P.G. Wodehouse's quote.  He said, "I always advise people never to give advice."  If you are looking for advice, there is no subject on earth that has more words devoted to advising others than golf.  Even the worst golfers are inclined to try to help other golfers with words of wisdom.  I can certainly be accused of spending an inordinate amount of time and energy offering advice that I often fail to take myself.  But then, no one ever said that all golfers are inclined to practise what they preach.

Actually, however, there are some golfers who have successfully put into practice what they preach.  They are the great champions.  That is why the majority of the advice I pass along comes not from the famous golf instructors, but rather from the great golf champions.  They are the guys, and gals, who have proved by action that they know whereof they speak.  

All of us want to play our best.  And, whether we always remember it or not, golf is about getting the ball in the hole in the fewest possible number of strokes.  It isn't about looking pretty while doing so.  "The secret of low scores," Bobby Jones said, "is the ability to turn three shots into two."  We see it every time we play.  The days we score well are not necessarily the days when we hit it long and straight.  But they are definitely the days when we made putts and managed to get the ball up and down when we missed greens.

Many people still want to focus on hitting the ball farther.  And some prominent teachers, to the delight of club manufacturers, still promote distance off the tee, and distance in general, as being vital to good golf. The great players, and the teachers who are more interested in helping players improve than selling videos, know and preach that it is the short game that most of us need to be focussed on improving.  As Harvey Penick said, "The short game.  Those are the magic words."

It seems to me that there are two areas where most golfers let themselves down.  The first is off the tee, by just automatically reaching for the driver.  The reality is that many players would hit the ball longer and straighter off the tee with a three wood.  But, if you occasionally tag one, and you've spent four hundred bucks on the latest driver, you want to let the big dog eat as often as you can; even if, as Harvey Penick said, "The woods are full of long drivers."

If you drive the ball reasonably straight, that is an advantage.  If you drive it really long, it's a big advantage; but only if you have a good short game.  It's up to everyone to do a regular post-mortem after they play to see if the driver has helped them or hurt them.  If the driver routinely hurts you, forcing you to take three off the tee, or play your next shot from the trees, it might just be time to listen to what one of the game's greatest drivers of the ball had to say.  Greg Norman advised, "If you can't hit the driver, don't."

The second area where we often let ourselves down is from a hundred yards and in.  That's where the average player really starts to fritter away shots.  Tony Lema recognized this fact when he said, "Heartaches usually begin when you're 50 to 75 yards out from the green.  This is the vale of tears."  From 75 yards and in is where I am sorely deficient.  I know this, and yet I still spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about my full swing, rather than my short game.  Oh well, no one ever accused me of being particularly bright.

This winter, circumstances have made it likely that I will spend most of my time in the north country, snowed under.  That being the case, I intend to spend my time chipping and putting in my man cave.  This may actually help me in the long run.  As my hero, Bobby Jones, said, "The chip is the greatest economist in golf."  

And Bobby Locke is credited with being the first great player to utter the famous words: "You drive for show, and putt for dough."  If I spend some more time and energy on chipping and putting, I just might play some golf when the snow finally melts.

In the meantime, besides chipping and putting, I'll watch the real golfers play in sunnier climes through the magic of the Golfchannel, I'll try and spend some time on the Total Gym, and I'll probably spend lots of time offering up free advice that I am often guilty of not taking myself.  

The Number One Disease in Golf

I have no idea how many golf balls I've hit.  I've made three holes in one. I've made a double eagle.  I've holed out from the fairway, I don't know how many times.

I've shot as low as 65 on a par 72 course, and still am able to shoot par or better when the putter is working.  And yet, I still find myself thinking about how to hit the ball.  And there are many much better players than I who suffer the same affliction.  Why after all the thousands of golf balls I've hit should I still feel compelled to think about how I'm going to hit it, instead of where I want to hit it?  And I am not alone.  This disease affects many, and I'm not sure there's a cure.

I played the other day with Steve and, after tinkering most of the day with my swing, ended up disgusted and discouraged.  I finally said to Steve that I was just going to hit the damned ball.  Sure enough, I played much better.  

"It's like an illness," I said to Steve.  "I can't seem to stop tinkering, and thinking about my swing."

He agreed that it was a ruinous disease, and reminded me of his brother, Bobby, who had started playing with me as a kid.  Bobby became a very good player and eventually found himself suffering from paralysis by analysis as well.  He has apparently cured himself of the affliction and is back to "just hitting it."  I hope Bobby stays cured.  Because, I think the compulsive tinkerer will always be one bad shot away from tinkering again.

The problem with golf is that the ball just sits there.  We have too much time to think, instead of just reacting, as we must do in virtually every other sport where we hit a ball with a stick, or a racquet, or a bat.  As Sam Snead said, "That little white ball is always staring back at you, daring you to make a mistake."

Sam Snead understood the affliction.  Whether he ever suffered from paralysis by analysis himself, I don't know.  Certainly, if he did, he didn't suffer as long, or as often, as so many of us.  Sam said, "Thinking, instead of acting, is the number one disease in golf."

Of course, Sam was absolutely correct, if by thinking, he was talking about swing thoughts.  Golf is a game where we do need to think.  We need to have a strategy for playing the course if we are going to play well.  Golf is a bit like chess in that respect.  But we need to act, or better yet, react.  Once we pick our shot, and our target, we have to stop thinking and act or react to the target.  If we've played the game long enough, we know how to hit the ball.  So why do we not just do it, instead of thinking about how to do it? Why can't we stop thinking about how to hit it and start thinking about where we want to hit it? If I had the answer to that question, I'd probably be able to sell it, and I'd be a much better golfer.

When we're learning the game, we may need to do some thinking about how.  Bobby Jones said that we had to come to understand the golf swing in general, and our own swing in particular.  If we don't develop a basic understanding of the golf swing, and an intimate understanding of our own swing, we will be lost when things inevitably start to go wrong.  Sometimes we must have some swing thoughts.

We have to use our head in golf.  We have to think.  But I like what Bobby Jones said:

"When I think about three things during my swing I'm playing poorly; when I think about two things, I have a chance to shoot par; when I think of only one thing I could win the tournament."