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Reliving a nightmare Posted: Monday September 16, 2002 1:26 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. Saturday, Sept. 14 KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- I was cleaning out the garage yesterday afternoon when I came across an old Ziploc bag covered with dust. I didn't recognize its contents at first -- something narrow and black resembling a luggage strap. Then it hit me. It was the "Swing Mate" strap they gave me 13 years ago at the Golf Digest School. It was the actual nylon-and-velcro torture device that was used to assassinate my old swing and set me adrift on the waves of golf pedagogy. My first impulse was to dump it in the trash. It was that damnable strap, after all, that transformed me from a fresh-faced, single-digit handicapper into a twitchy, weathered paranoiac who haunts driving ranges and writes "N/A" in the box labeled HANDICAP. After a moment's reflection, however, I decided that I should exorcise my demons by -- what was I thinking? -- trying it on again. But how? When I unfolded the strap, I could only stare at it, baffled. It had three ends. Fortunately, I had kept the folded directions with the strap. "See illustration for clarification," it began. The illustration, a dotted outline of a headless human torso, showed the strap looped around the rib cage with two plastic U-rings pressed against the chest and both arms secured by Velcroed restraints. "Clothing should be worn under the Swing Mate," the tutorial continued (no doubt to distinguish the golf version of the strap from the model sold in the red-light district of Amsterdam). I read on: "To ensure correct positioning of the chestband, place it around your back and attach the ends in front of you so that the two D-rings are on the outside of the chestband and the two armbands are hanging behind your arms." That much I accomplished without difficulty, but the stretchy chestband made it hard to breathe. It felt like somebody had curled a blood-pressure cuff around my chest and started pumping. "Pull each armband around each biceps area and pull through the D-rings and attach to the velcro on the outside of the armband. The armband should be adjusted so that the arms are held snugly to the chest." This instruction was a little harder to follow. When I pulled one dangling strap around my right biceps and through the U-ring, the Velcro didn't mate properly. Each time I let go, the strap snapped like a slingshot and knocked some piece of garden equipment off the pegboard walls. It took me 10 minutes and several repositionings of the chestband to finally get my right arm pinioned by the right armstrap. I then prepared to slip the left armstrap around my left biceps. But again, how? With my right arm reduced to the utility of a penguin's flipper, I couldn't reach around my body for the dangling strap. When I tried to pull it with my left hand toward the waiting fingers of my right, it kept snapping back. Frustrated, I tried to flip the strap within reach by spinning my entire body in the manner of a Balkan folk dancer. That led to some minor damage as cartons and bicycles crashed to the floor. Breathing heavily, I reviewed the instructions. Then I remembered: The Golf Digest folks had strapped down only one of my arms. On to Step 3. "Now take your normal golf swing. It is common to feel as though you are making a half swing at first, but the new connected swing will produce increased power, accuracy and more consistent ballstriking." Yeah, right. Using my free hand, I pulled a 7-iron from my bag. I took my grip, addressed an imaginary ball, checked to make sure that my right arm was "held snugly" against my chest ... and then straightened up. No way was I going make a swing -- even a practice swing -- with my right arm practically fastened to my rib cage. Funny thing, though. I didn't put the Swing Mate in the plastic bin with the recyclables. Instead, I sealed it in a clean Ziploc bag and hid it in the basement. It will remain there, I am sure, for another 10 or 15 years, until some poor sap finds it and tries it on in a 21st-century version of The Mummy's Curse. "I saved myself a lot of grief today," I told my wife afterward. She said, "I thought you were going to straighten out the garage." I slapped my forehead, making sure that my right arm was held snugly to my chest. 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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