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No sympathy for this plight Posted: Monday December 02, 2002 2:31 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, Nov. 30 KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- "Are you OK?" asks George Kenney of Boca Raton, Fla. "You seem to be slowing down." I assume that he refers to the dilatory pace of my column writing, which has ebbed from weekly to biweekly to just plain weakly. The honest answer is: Yes, I am slowing down. It happens every autumn, when falling leaves and crisp temperatures trigger the ursine side of my metabolism. Instead of hitting golf balls off tattered mats, I look for a place to hibernate. My wife drifts through our darkened bedroom at 10 a.m. and asks, in a plaintive whisper, if I plan to join relatives and guests for Thanksgiving dinner. "Depends," I mumble, pulling the covers up around my ears. "What are we having?" In addition, I just haven't had much to report. I hit a few balls the other day at the Russell Municipal Golf Course in central Kansas, but it wasn't much of a session. The afternoon was cold and windy, and I was alone on the range. I had on a long-sleeved shirt, a snug windbreaker, a knit cap and street shoes. To really get warm, of course, I only had to burrow into the Mats Only mailbag, which contained a few hot critiques of my column on the Hotel Britannia in Birmingham, England. "Did you actually pay for your stay at the Hotel Nightmare?" asks Craig, a resident of Milton Keynes, England. "Did you pay for your Ryder Cup tickets? I assume the answer is no, so I suggest you start looking on the brighter side of life. Your trip to the Ryder Cup would be the experience of a lifetime for most people." Another Englishman, Graham Strange of Bermuda, picks up the Ugly American refrain, saying, "As much as I enjoy your columns, I'm beginning to tire of U.S.-based journalists complaining about British hotels. I am the first to admit that the average British hotel does not match the average U.S. hotel, particularly in terms of space. Having said that, there are good and bad hotels in both countries. Perhaps you should complain to your travel organizer, rather than to your readers." Actually, Graham, that's what I was doing -- complaining, in a public way, to Ryder Cup Travel Services, the outfit that picked the media hotels. As for the quality of English hotels, I've stayed in plenty of good ones. In fact, I spent the last two days of the Ryder Cup at the Renaissance Hotel in Solihull, a Birmingham suburb. My room at the Renaissance was exquisite, the lighting superb, the bed comfortable, the bathroom elegant, the staff gracious and helpful -- and it cost less than a room at any of the media hotels. Nevertheless, Dale Naylor of Sydney, Australia, goes over my head and directly addresses my editors. "If John needs a five-star hotel to produce a good article," Dale writes, "then he is in the wrong game. The reader doesn't give a hoot where the writer is sleeping at night." Before I can interrupt with my proposal to test his five-star hotel hypothesis, Dale adds, "This guy is just covering a weakness of talent if he blames his tools or his surroundings." Dale is right, as far as he goes. I don't need a luxury hotel to produce a good article. But I do need a desk or a table for my laptop. And I need a working telephone to send the story to New York. And I need a few hours of sleep out of every 24 -- which can't be had when some refugee from The Gong Show is beating a bass drum outside my window. "I hope in future trips you can find something enjoyable to take your mind off your hotel," writes Russell McGinnis of Tustin, Calif., "such as the golf courses, or even the golf events. I'm sorry that the SI staff had such a terrible time watching some wonderful golf." There it is again! That steady drumbeat! Fortunately, one understanding Brit rises to my defense. "Well, it's advice, really," writes Tim Stanley-Clamp of London. "You can't hope to find a golf swing, last heard of a dozen years ago, if you hire hotel rooms which cost your employers $4 a night. In the future, check your grip, alignment and posture, make sure your dentures are comfortable, and e-mail the bastards in Finance that you're going to be staying in a hotel which will cost them at least $10 a night." Ten dollars, of course, is what I expect to pay for a jumbo bucket of balls at a really good driving range. And with that artful segue, I remind you all that it's time to send me your nominations for best and worst driving ranges of 2002. As in past years, I will post your choices on the Mats Only kiosk. If I get to them, that is. The mailbag makes a mighty good pillow. 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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