 |
| |
|
 |
 |
 
|
Checking the mail Posted: Tuesday December 11, 2001 11:09 AM
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. Saturday, Dec. 8 KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- It just took me 90 minutes to install a new doorbell on the family manse. (Apparently, I have been spending too much time on my golf swing and not enough time working on other life skills.) So now, winded and sore, I fall back in my wing chair and amuse myself by sorting through the e-mail. "I loved your piece about Japanese driving ranges," writes Brian Bartholomay of Durham, N.C. "I am a recent college graduate and golfer who teaches English in Japan. I had the exact same astonishment about the 5-iron trajectory, and your confusion at the card vending machine could have been a page out of my own book." In a similar vein, Patrick Wright of Silver Spring, Md., writes, "Having lived in Kyoto for a couple of years, I know there is great truth to your statement about how the Japanese squeeze driving ranges into every nook and cranny. One man even put outdoor carpeting on his roof and used it as his driving range." Wright adds that he, too, has lost a contest like the one I had with the fellow in the yellow sweater at Tokyo's Jingu Golf. "A Japanese friend had come to America, and he, as the Iron Chef, cleaned my clock in terms of accuracy -- even while using borrowed clubs." A few readers raised their eyebrows after reading my "Blame it on the range" column, in which I shrugged off some woeful ballstriking at Brown's Golf World in Houston. "You seem to make it so hard on yourself," writes Reid Wegley of Boulder, Colo., shaking his head as he types. "As a 2-handicap player who only plays once a week and never practices, I say pounding balls on the range is a waste of time. Playing sound golf is all about management on the course, not about spectacular shotmaking." Wegley's point is well taken, but I challenge his characterization of my practice sessions as "pounding balls on the range." Anyone who has watched me practice knows that I treat each ball with almost devotional respect. Zac Therrien, a scratch golfer and "golf student" in Edmonton, Alberta, also finds fault with my rangea culpa. "I am new to your brand of critiquing," he writes, "but I felt rather unsatisfied with your analysis of Brown's Golf World. Judging from the description of your swing problems, the range was clearly not to blame. You should ask the opinion of a certified golf professional before scapegoating the hardpan." Fearing my wrath, he adds, "I still enjoy your articles." Here's the problem, Zac. It was "certified golf professionals" who messed me up 12 years ago. It was certified golf professionals who tied my arms to my side, handed me a 5-iron and chuckled while I tried to hit balls penguin-style. It was certified golf professionals who demanded payment in exchange for their services. And none of these so-called experts taught me how to hit balls off hardpan or threadbare AstroTurf, which is what we range rats encounter on a regular basis. So there. At least one reader shares my view that the layout of a range can screw you up. "I agree with all your points on the dreaded 'yellow ropes' that define the hitting area," writes David Jacobs of Ponte Vedra Beach, Fla. "But what's the alternative?" Good question, Dave. I'll get back to you. The central point of my rant, of course, was not to malign Brown's Golf World. I just thought it was a small personal triumph to leave the range after a bad session without descending into doubt and self-pity. Sometimes it's best to simply shrug, blame somebody else and move on. "Houston has some of the worst ranges I've seen," notes Dan Grimland of Plano, Texas, "save for West Texas. The best range in Dallas is Hank Haney's in McKinney, about 30 minutes straight out Route 121 from the airport." He refers, of course, to Hank Haney's Golf Ranch, which will appear next week on my Best Ranges of the Year list. (It's not too late to e-mail me your own selections. Just make sure that you identify your nomination as a "best" or "worst" -- otherwise, I won't know if "situated next to a strip club" is a knock or a rave.) The columns on my brother Tom drove a bunch of readers to the keyboard. Jacobs, from four paragraphs back, writes, "And now you tell me that in addition to not hitting a ball in two years, your brother forgot his glasses and he couldn't see the ball clearly. What next? Did he play barefooted and use rented clubs? Please, no more! A frustrated hack like me can only take so much." A couple of e-mails come from equipment-industry veterans. "Tom is one of the nicest guys I have ever known," writes noted club designer Clay Long of Carlsbad, Calif. "We worked together at MacGregor in the early '80s when Tom was VP of marketing. I was only a few years into the business, but I knew that not too many executives in the golf business were good players, and none were former tour players like your brother." Clay adds, "It was always a great pleasure to play with Tom. In fact, we played a round the day I got married." Another former colleague, Dai Okubo of Tokyo, writes, "I worked with your brother in Atlanta for three years, and I regret that I did not know he had just recovered from that serious sickness. I am extremely happy to know that he overcame it. I played with him many times, and your article brought back for me those fairways and greens at the Atlanta Athletic Club. On the wall of my apartment in Kuala Lumpur, where I am working as an expatriate, there's a framed photo of Tom on the 10th hole of Augusta National keeping his club above his left shoulder with his upper body beautifully bent." Thanks to everyone who wrote to Tom. I'll forward your notes to him. Finally, a couple of letters of a general nature. Graham Strange, who describes himself as a "cricket-playing, golf-wannabe English bloke living in Bermuda," writes: "I recently read an article of yours on golfonline.com and clicked the link for the Mats Only Archive. I am now in the middle of the series -- July 2000, to be exact. To me, the series is like a box of fruit gums. Having read an article, I tell myself, 'Just one more, Graham. You know you'll feel ill if you gorge yourself.' And so I eat/read one more and close the box/Internet, only to reopen it 10 minutes later under the pretense of 'just one more.'" Strange goes on to explain that he was an 11-handicapper when he went to the Ken Venturi Golf School in Orlando, Fla. "I left with two pieces of advice for the full swing: 1) play all iron shots with the ball in the same position, irrespective of club, that position being forward of center; and 2) bend my knees more, as I was too upright. I left the school, played a lot and my handicap came down to 7. Clearly, excellent advice. "Recently, however, my game deteriorated. My handicap went back to 9 and was headed higher. So I took a lesson with a local pro. He concluded that I was playing the ball too far forward, particularly with my shorter irons, and that I was too crouched in my stance. He said, 'Try to be more upright.' So I moved the ball back to where it used to be, and I stood straighter, as I did before Ken Venturi. The irony of it all? My handicap is back down to 7!" Ron Lockaby of Scottsdale, Ariz., offers a similar tale of collapse and recovery. "Four months ago, in the course of one warmup session at Rancho Manana Golf Club in Cave Creek, I went from a solid 4 handicap to shanking, wiffing, topping and ditch-digging with every club in the bag. I am on the recovery trail now. My last five rounds have been 77 or better, and I have a new, more solid swing." Lockaby doesn't reveal where he got his new swing, but he says a recent Mats Only column reminded him of the scene in Caddyshack in which Judge Smails asks Ty Webb how he measures himself against other golfers if he doesn't keep score. Ty's response: "By height." Sorry, got to go. The doorbell is ringing ... and ringing ... and ringing.
Watch this space for another installment of Mats Only. To send John Garrity advice, share your experiences, or suggest a driving range, click here.
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||
