Sure Cures

We actually saw a graphite tee that is supposed to give you more distance. Speaking of which, we also found tees made out of wood, rubber, sponge, metal, Bakelite, cork, cardboard and sand. One tee Greenpeace would have loved had seed inside so that when it broke, it would heal its own divot. There are tees that adjust to the kind of club you're hitting—higher for driver, shorter for wedge. There is a tee with a joint in the middle so you can't break it and a tee on the end of an arm that swings away from you after you've hit. There was once even a tee that was connected to a reel attached to your shoe. You hit your shot, then you merely tapped the retrieve button on the reel and zzzzzzip, the tee would come whirring back into place on your foot like a Black & Decker measuring tape.

But nothing we found—tee, club, ball or glasses—was as good as the POWER TEE we found in Tokyo. Actually, the print on the box was entirely in Japanese and we never did figure out what the name of it was, so we dubbed it the Power Tee. It was simply a plastic tee with a cup for the ball to rest in. Since the club doesn't directly touch the ball, it imparts no spin, thus there is less air resistance. We did not hit a slice or a hook with this thing. The ball just went eerily dead straight. The first ball we hit with it went 290, allowing us a four-iron into a par 5. The second one, 270, uphill. Not only that, but the assistant pro tried it and couldn't slice the ball with it. This, truly, may have been golf's One True Secret. The problem was, the box came with only five tees in it and we broke all but one. If word of the Power Tee gets out, we sincerely believe it could tip the balance of world power.

Japan: "Fine. We will manage your military and your industry, plus we get Brooke Shields."

U.S.: "Right. And we get eight boxes of Power Tees."

O.K., so now we were hitting it farther. Unfortunately, we had somehow acquired a debilitating slice. Actually, we know this slice. We have seen its ugly face for years. Our knees were un-drooped, our head unmoved, our distance unmatched, but our slice was unstoppable.

"Change balls," said Carnac, who was now demanding the price of a dollop of Cutty for each office visit.

Hmmmmm. Maybe it was the ball, not us. We began anew. What we found were slews of balls, some of them contraband, promising unheard-of distance or pinpoint accuracy. We tried the NITRO. Couldn't tell a difference. Same with the SLAZENGER, which was supposed to be better because it was banned by the USGA. Zippo difference.

We ordered some MIRACLE-FLITES because the advertisement said, "Many golfers report a hole-in-one the first time they use Miracleflite." We would like to report that we had a six the first time we used Miracleflite.

There is the supersecret CODE NAME "S" ball. You've seen the ad for this one. It looks like a newspaper story, with the headline SMALL COMPANY'S NEW GOLF BALL FLIES TOO FAR; COULD OBSOLETE MANY GOLF COURSES. The ad says one pro routinely hit the ball with the Code Name "S" 400 yards. We routinely hit it 400 yards, too. In three swings. Bogey.

In the past there have been balls with locating devices in them. One specially painted ball came with a pair of glasses. If you hit it in the rough, you would simply put on the glasses and the ball would appear to you clear as a bell. There was once a ball with its own peculiar smell, not commonly occurring on your local links. Eau de Top Flite. The idea was, if you couldn't see it, you could smell your way to it. There was also a pneumatic golf ball, but it fell out of favor with the public because on hot days it tended to explode in the golfer's bag.