|
 |   |
|
EVENTS Fantasy Central Inside Game Multimedia Central Statitudes Your Turn Message Boards Email Newsletters Golf Guide Cities Work in Sports
CNNSI.com GROUP
COMMERCE
|  |
'Quick fix' equals a whole lotta sand
Sports Illustrated senior writer John Garrity was a 42-year-old 8-handicapper when he suddenly lost his swing. Since December 1989 he has been looking for it -- a modern-day Odysseus adrift on the troubled waters of swing theory. As Garrity travels the world reporting on golf, he visits as many driving ranges as he can, avoiding the dreaded "mats only" ranges that prevent him from teeing it up. FT. WORTH, Texas -- You, my faithful readers, couldn't solve my sand troubles, so I asked Rob Stanger to check out my technique when he gave me a lesson last month in California. I figured Rob would spot the problem in a flash and straighten me out with some simple adjustment of posture or ball position. (This is known as the "quick fix," and I believe in it as passionately as I once believed in the Tooth Fairy.) The practice bunker at the Maderas Golf Club was semi-deep, the sand semi-soft, and my first explosion shot semi-launched -- the ball flew about halfway to the clubhouse. I hit a few more, employing an open stance and an open clubface, before Rob suggested simplifying my setup. "Let's eliminate some of the variables," he said. With the rake handle he drew a line in the sand perpendicular to my target line and had me take some swings without a ball. "Try it with a square stance and a square clubface and just hit the line, throwing as much sand as you can up on the green." I took a smooth swing -- WHUMP -- and pitched some sand up on the green. Child's play! But when I looked down, I saw that my divot began about six inches behind the line. "There's your problem," said Rob. "You're hitting too far behind the ball, and the club is bouncing into the ball instead of taking a good cut of sand. Try it again, only this time hit the line." I swung again -- WHUMP -- and again I missed the line by about six inches. "It moved," I explained. Swings three and four were a little better, my divots edging up to the line. Finally I hit the line, leaving a nice shallow divot that stretched about nine inches toward the flagstick. "Did it!" I said. "Yeah, you did," said Rob, giving the divot a dubious look. "But you're not taking near enough sand. You've got to really dig down there and throw some serious sand on the green." To illustrate his point, he changed places with me and took a swing at the line -- WHUMP -- throwing a broad fan of sand at the flagstick. His divot, I noticed, started right on the line. Then, to emphasize the point, Rob swung four more times, taking a quick step forward between swings -- WHUMP, WHUMP, WHUMP, WHUMP -- creating a broad curtain of sand that dropped on the green like a silicon Niagara Falls. When Rob was finished, he looked down. There were five parallel divots, all the same depth and all starting precisely on the line he had drawn with the rake. Isais, "Hmmm." We spent another 10 minutes or so in the bunker, and I wish I could say that I was soon splashing shots to tap-in range. But I literally couldn't dig it. I squirmed my feet deep into the sand and bent my knees a little more than usual, but my divots were either too shallow and the ball flew too far, or I took too much sand and the ball stayed in the bunker. Rob said, "Hmmm." I finally managed to hit one close -- with a swing that felt like I was driving a miner's pick into bedrock -- and Rob said, "This is probably a good time to move on to something else." He was too polite to add: "Like tennis." A few days later, in the practice bunker at Milburn Country Club, I drew a line in the sand and spent a few minutes trying to make good divots. Then I put a row of balls down, about three inches in front of the line, and tried to hit the line and throw the same amount of sand onto the green. I saw significant improvement. My sand shots were still long, but at least they weren't whistling over the flag like Chinese skyrockets. I'd be less than honest, though, if I didn't admit to being discouraged. Rob was able to diagnose my problem, but even he couldn't fix my sand game; not in one lesson, anyway. My "quick fix" is still out there, and to find it I'm going to have to shovel a whole lot of sand.
Watch this space for another installment of Mats Only. To send John Garrity advice, share your experiences, or suggest a driving range, click here.
| ||||||||||||||||||||
