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A one-of-a-kind range rat
Updated: Friday November 17, 2000 5:51 PM
Sports Illustrated senior writer John Garrity was a 42-year-old eight 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. Saturday, November 11 KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- Your range rat is an American original. He's John Wayne. He's Bette Midler. He's Jim Reed, a 53-year-old industrial engineer from Lake Linganore, Md. I discovered Reed one morning in May at the Rocky Gorge Driving Range in Laurel, Md. A balding man with spectacles, he caught my eye by stripping to an undershirt, stacking his wallet, keys, watch and cell phone by the corner of his mat, and then hitting golf balls with a swing that might charitably be called eccentric. Standing with his feet close together, he picked the club straight up, maneuvered his elbows so that one pointed toward Annapolis and the other toward Baltimore, and then whirled into the ball with a move so vigorous that I felt a shock wave. Remarkably, he hit most of his shots solidly and far. Passing through the golf shop on my way to the pop machine, I asked the clerk if she knew the fellow. Nancy Ferreira told me that Reed was a Rocky Gorge icon, a regular for more than 25 years. She said, "You wouldn't believe how many people comment on him. They see him swing and say, 'How does he do that?'" 
I watched Reed hit balls for another 10 minutes before I introduced myself and asked that very question -- how did he do that? He laughed and said, "I hit the ball with a violent wrenching of my hips. My whole swing is violent, but that's the part that really works." Other parts, he conceded, didn't work so well. "Sometimes I hit myself on the head with my backswing. But if I don't hit myself too hard I'm OK." Reed plays to a 10 handicap at daily-fee courses, and he has taken his game to England, Scotland and Wales. He manages to compensate for a severe across-the-line position at the top by twisting his pelvis ahead of his arm drop and holding on for dear life. "I often practice with my feet together," he says. "It's a great drill for learning how to move your body under a still head." If Reed is your kind of guy -- and if you're a frequent visitor to Mats Only, I'm sure he is -- you'll be interested in my article "Home on the Range" in the Golf Plus section of the Nov. 13 Sports Illustrated. It's a seven-page fever dream on our favorite subject, driving ranges, and draws on material which has appeared previously in this column, such as the ghost driving range on the Temecula-Palm Desert highway in California and the Shangri-La of mystical practice fields at Florida's World Woods. It's also time to submit your nominations for Best and Worst Driving Ranges of the Year and Range Rat of the Year -- although, to be honest, exit polls project Jim Reed to be a runaway winner of the latter. But you never know, a recount of the Hong Kong expatriate vote could tip the honor to someone else. Watch this space for another installment of Mats Only. To send John Garrity advice, share your experiences, or suggest a driving range, click here.
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