 |
| |
|
 |
 |
Caught between swings Posted: Monday April 08, 2002 12:13 PM
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. Thursday, March 28 PALM DESERT, Calif. -- I didn't want to play this morning. Or rather, I wanted to play, but I was afraid I wouldn't have any fun. Whenever I make a swing change, I am in deep trouble for a couple of weeks. Tee balls go sideways, pitches go chunk, and I find myself with a devil on each shoulder. "Forget the swing change," says the left devil. "You were hitting the driver great three months ago. Use that swing!" "Don't be a sap," says the right devil. "You'll never learn to control the ball unless you master this new move. Stay the course!" I usually try to placate both devils by going with the new in the short game and clinging to the old with the longer clubs. This is a recipe for confusion, but logical thinking never gets me anywhere. I mean, what's logical about my driver? Yesterday afternoon I couldn't hit the Bonneville Salt Flats with it. This morning, on the range at the Westin Mission Hills Resort, I was ripping it long and straight. Then I took it out on the resort's Pete Dye Course and managed to hit only four or five fairways. So I played poorly. But I didn't melt down, either, which I always regard as a triumph. If you were watching from the clubhouse, you saw me hit fairway and green on the first and 18th holes and make two-putt pars on each. So I was thisclose to a round of 72, if you discount the other 16 holes. On one hole I hit a nice, strong hook off the tee. The ball sailed over a couple of little trees and some mounds and wound up on the edge of the very lesson tee where I lost my swing in 1989. I took a quick look. The practice bunkers and putting greens were immaculate. The teeing ground appeared to be in tip-top shape. No one was around, but a green canvas tent on poles indicated that the lesson tee was still being used by the Golf Digest and Troon Golf schools. "This spot is very special to me," I told my playing partner. "Let's get out of here." Friday, March 29 PALM DESERT, Calif. -- This morning I got a playing lesson from Rob Stanger. A playing lesson, if you've never had one, is the gold standard of instruction. It's just you and the pro on a real golf course. You don't hit range balls at a man on a tractor; you hit real Titleists and real Precepts into real lakes. Stanger's situation is wonderful, because in off-peak hours he has access to all three courses at Mission Hills Country Club, including the beautiful, Desmond Muirhead-designed Tournament Course. This morning's lesson took place on the club's Pete Dye Course, which is a stern, sometimes exasperating test of golf. The playing lesson is Rob's forte. He picks a hole at random and has you warm up with a couple of easy pitch shots down the fairway. Then he has you play a shot into a green, talking you through the strategy and technique. On the next hole you hit a tee shot with a middle iron, but only after a couple of well-examined practice swings. "Everything in golf relates to the target line," he says repeatedly, encouraging you to picture the carpenter's-string reference line he uses on the range. Within a few holes, you're hitting driver off the tee (taking a mulligan if your first effort goes astray) and playing as you would in a real round, with this difference: You've got a pro helping you make decisions, instead of the idiot who lives in your cranium. Rob's playing lessons are particularly enjoyable because you get to watch him play. The first time he took me out on a course, two years ago, he birdied three of the first four holes, lipping out for eagle on one of them. He seems to have complete control of every element of ball flight. If he wants the ball to kick right upon landing, it kicks right. If he wants the ball to land on the apron and release uphill to the hole, it lands on the apron and releases uphill to the hole. It wouldn't surprise me if Rob could command his ball to roll to a stop with the logo pointing toward Indio. That kind of control is unusual, even among tour players. That's why, when the devil on my right shoulder is telling me that I'm too old to be changing my swing, I listen to the other devil, the one saying, "Stanger's got the secret. Stanger can teach you how to control the ball." Sometimes the smell of sulfur is so strong that I get dizzy. Today, for instance, I had a 60-yard pitch to some green, and Rob suggested that I aim at a certain bush behind the green and launch the ball at a chosen angle with "11:59 spin." I followed his instructions, and the ball flew into the hole on the fly. Alas, it spun out again, winding up on the right fringe. "I've never seen that!" said a Mission Hills member who was passing by in a golf cart. "Yeah, well," I replied with a modest shrug, "Rob hasn't taught me how to make it stay in the hole." But here's the problem. When I tee a ball up and address it with my driver, nothing that Rob tells me seems to work. He says I apply my power too early in the downswing; the whoosh of my shaft reaches its highest pitch before impact, not in the follow-through, as it does with better players. He tells me I need to delay "the hit," I need to think control going back, control at impact, control as the shaft works down the target line. The power is automatic, he says: "You've got all the power you need." So I make my careful practice swing. I address the ball and try to repeat the rehearsal swing at a smooth, throttled-back power level. What happens? One drive curves right (open clubface). The next drive curves left (closed clubface). This morning, playing the ninth hole, I pull-hooked my first tee shot into the water. I then hit my second splendidly, clearing the water with ease and drawing the ball into the fairway, about 95 yards from the flag. "What can you tell me about that swing?" Rob asked. He wanted a readout of my senses. I won't control the ball, he says, until I have awareness. "Nothing," I said. "I tried to feel the practice swing -- the clubhead out here, the shaft there, the clubface at 12 o'clock. But the practice swing is so much slower. I just don't have a clue with this club." We turned our attention toward my last approach shot. The flag was right of center, behind a bunker on a raised tier; the green sloped left toward a water hazard. "My odds aren't good attacking that pin with a draw," I said. He nodded. "You could aim just short of the green and try to get up and down." (This is a strategy that Rob recommends to mid-handicappers when they play hard holes. Bogey is a perfectly acceptable score, and you rule out the big number.) I reached for my gap wedge. "Yeah, but I can hit that 1 o'clock shot and bring it in high and a little left-to-right." Catching Rob's nod of approval, I aimed to a point just inside the left edge of the green and took a forceful swing, guiding the clubface into the 1 o'clock position. I caught it flush. The ball launched on the target line, flew high and drifted just a bit right, into the slope of the green. When it landed, the ball bounced once and held its ground on the slope, less than 20 feet below the hole. "That's a great shot," Rob said. A couple of minutes later, when I holed out, he said, "Driver, wedge, two putts. That's an easy 4 on one of the hardest holes on the course." Of course, he wasn't counting the tee shot I put in the water. It was a fun morning and a wonderful lesson, but I fear that I'll leave the Coachella Valley more worried than when I arrived. If you can't hit your driver, you can't play, and right now I'm back in that dark place where anxiety hums and hope is a mere glimmer on the horizon: between swings. No matter. Rob will get me straightened out at our next lesson, which is scheduled for ... April 2003? Groan. Watch this space for another installment of Mats Only. To send John Garrity advice, share your experiences, or suggest a driving range,
click here.
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||
