Let’s first accept a simple truth.
If there is money to be made, or pride to be accumulated, then the facts at hand have a hard time maintaining their purest forms. Regardless of whether it pertain to matters of the heart or science, leisure or business, the desire to, and hence the temptation to, distribute the forefront wisdom in one’s chosen field is great. To be the giver of information. To be king.
If only the givers were required to prove to the listeners that their crowns are genuine. That what they know is true. But all they really have to do is convince someone that the diploma on their wall is real.
And oh, how often does that happen in golf…
In part, it may be our own faults. We lovers of the game. So eager to learn. To obtain for ourselves the magic we see broadcast every weekend on tour. But, I think, mostly it’s because there aren’t many walls with accreditation’s on the internet, or out on the course, and those are the two places we’re most often looking for our pearls of wisdom and inspiration. We have Instagram and YouTube, and the people in our lives that tell us things. So, unless we’re taking lessons, which statistics indicate most of us are not, that’s all we have.
And it usually sounds a lot like this.
“Keep your head down, your arm straight, your elbow in. Take a neutral grip and make a full turn with your back to the target. Start the swing with your legs and for Heaven’s sake don’t come over the top.”
Someone from my past, when I first started playing the game, once made me feel like a lesser player because, and I quote, “You have an upright swing. You need to just face it and fix it.”
Let’s, you and I, not get bogged down at all with the scores I shoot now, or how much or little I esteem that person from my past. But let’s instead focus more on the incompleteness of the statement he made. He inferred that, because my swing was more upright than shallow or flat, that I would never be able to play like Tiger Woods. (This was before there were two ways to feel about Tiger Woods.) But he also completely failed to mention that Jack Nicklaus’ swing was famously upright. (Let us also save the discussion per who the greatest player of all time was/is/will ever be.)
It’s just, if you take into account that many of the people preaching about anything, in this case the golf swing, have more incentive to speak and be listened to than to give you the entire story regarding the subject, or may not even themselves know the entire story, we can begin looking for more trustworthy ways to vet the information we gather. (Per the point of this conversation, let us save the many and frequent contradictions between the top minds in golf, and the fact that if you put Brandel Chamblee, Johnny Miller, Butch Harmon, and Hank Haney in a room for an hour with the top one-hundred beliefs about the golf swing on the table that they would walk away having agreed on maybe five of them, for another day.)
There has to be at least something reliable on the internet and the driving range and, God forbid, the things your playing partners tell you on the tee box. Doesn’t there? Even if half the people say yes to something. And the other half say no. And everyone in the world has a different idea they’re peddling that floats between the two. Logic says at least something has to be right somewhere. Doesn’t it???
I believe that the statement I don’t know is possibly the only honest thing anyone can say. In almost twenty years of play, I’ve only heard it from a golfer one time. This was at least a decade ago, but at that time he was the head pro at Chehalem Glenn in Newberg, Oregon. He came and stood behind me as I was hitting balls and watched me for a few minutes. He eventually stopped me and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing. But I know there’s nothing I can do with that.” Honesty. If nothing else, I didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling me the truth. If he had said this or that or yes or no, there’s always the chance that what he was saying to me was just some concoction of blather and snake oil. That all he was trying to do was sell me something. But you can’t sell “I don’t know,” so I knew him to be true.
It was such a rare moment in a world so full of feigned certainty that I didn’t even say anything back to him.
I don’t have a pretty swing.
I didn’t then.
I most certainly do not now.
But what I did do in reply, to honor his sentiment, was fly a few more range balls straight into the pines at the end of the range. Just to let him know how much I appreciated our moment together.
And there’s the magic ingredient.
Ben Hogan, when asked what his secret was said it was in the dirt. And that you had to dig it out with your hands. All by yourself.
Everyone who has ever become a master at anything will tell you the same. That they put in their ten-thousand hours and so should you.
That’s not to say you shouldn’t take lessons. You absolutely should take lessons.
And you should totally listen to your friends who have played much longer than you.
But the only thing that one-hundred percent of the people who have found good golf in their life will all tell you is that you have to hit a million golf balls. Because the ball is the only thing that will never lie to you. Or lead you astray. Because the center of the clubface cannot be faked.
A three-hundred yard drive can happen to almost anyone with the right wind conditions and a dry, sloping fairway. Also, straight can be a fickle friend depending on the loft of the club and the lie of the ball.
And so, with that said, these are the things you can believe we absolutely have to do if we’re searching for our best swings.
You have to take notes. I know it sounds basic. But you have to. Whether you practice every day, or especially if you’re only able to practice every now and then, notes are the best way to pick up where you left off. You can’t hope to string together a progression of repeatable good habits if every time you pick up a club you’re starting from scratch. Take notes. Write down your swing thoughts. What you feel with your grip and how you manage your setup. Your phone has a notes section, and if your phone is always on you, then your swing thoughts are always with you. Don’t forget things. Don’t let things slip away. Write them down and then read them quickly before you go out so you know where to start.
Whenever possible, practice somewhere without rubber mats and fake turf. The game is played on grass and dirt and sand and debris. I can’t think of a worse way to train than to practice on a material that doesn’t even exist in the game.
Consistency is key. Whether you’re using a Swing Speed Radar, a net in your backyard, wiffle balls, the carpet in your living room to putt on, make sure that the feedback you’re getting is legitimate. I once spent a year hitting foam balls at the park, only to find out that the foam balls compress differently than a real ball, and so stay on the club a fraction of a second longer, and so do not fly with anywhere near the same spin as an actual ball. It seams obvious now. But you have to be focused to avoid those kinds of pitfalls.
In the end, even if we’re not the players today that we’d hoped we’d be by now. Even if we don’t have the courage or the money to take countless hours of lessons. Or even if our hours of lessons and study haven’t paid off yet. The truth is, even if we never do achieve a single goal that we set out to accomplish, we can always become better students. And information is wonderful. Knowledge is wonderful. And wisdom is priceless.
So remember this. Good students take notes. They practice how they play. And they find consistent, trustworthy feedback to help define where they’re at on their journey, so that tomorrow will bring with it the hope for better. Maybe even the best. And that’s something we can all count on. Always.
If there is money to be made, or pride to be accumulated, then the facts at hand have a hard time maintaining their purest forms. Regardless of whether it pertain to matters of the heart or science, leisure or business, the desire to, and hence the temptation to, distribute the forefront wisdom in one’s chosen field is great. To be the giver of information. To be king.
If only the givers were required to prove to the listeners that their crowns are genuine. That what they know is true. But all they really have to do is convince someone that the diploma on their wall is real.
And oh, how often does that happen in golf…
In part, it may be our own faults. We lovers of the game. So eager to learn. To obtain for ourselves the magic we see broadcast every weekend on tour. But, I think, mostly it’s because there aren’t many walls with accreditation’s on the internet, or out on the course, and those are the two places we’re most often looking for our pearls of wisdom and inspiration. We have Instagram and YouTube, and the people in our lives that tell us things. So, unless we’re taking lessons, which statistics indicate most of us are not, that’s all we have.
And it usually sounds a lot like this.
“Keep your head down, your arm straight, your elbow in. Take a neutral grip and make a full turn with your back to the target. Start the swing with your legs and for Heaven’s sake don’t come over the top.”
Someone from my past, when I first started playing the game, once made me feel like a lesser player because, and I quote, “You have an upright swing. You need to just face it and fix it.”
Let’s, you and I, not get bogged down at all with the scores I shoot now, or how much or little I esteem that person from my past. But let’s instead focus more on the incompleteness of the statement he made. He inferred that, because my swing was more upright than shallow or flat, that I would never be able to play like Tiger Woods. (This was before there were two ways to feel about Tiger Woods.) But he also completely failed to mention that Jack Nicklaus’ swing was famously upright. (Let us also save the discussion per who the greatest player of all time was/is/will ever be.)
It’s just, if you take into account that many of the people preaching about anything, in this case the golf swing, have more incentive to speak and be listened to than to give you the entire story regarding the subject, or may not even themselves know the entire story, we can begin looking for more trustworthy ways to vet the information we gather. (Per the point of this conversation, let us save the many and frequent contradictions between the top minds in golf, and the fact that if you put Brandel Chamblee, Johnny Miller, Butch Harmon, and Hank Haney in a room for an hour with the top one-hundred beliefs about the golf swing on the table that they would walk away having agreed on maybe five of them, for another day.)
There has to be at least something reliable on the internet and the driving range and, God forbid, the things your playing partners tell you on the tee box. Doesn’t there? Even if half the people say yes to something. And the other half say no. And everyone in the world has a different idea they’re peddling that floats between the two. Logic says at least something has to be right somewhere. Doesn’t it???
I believe that the statement I don’t know is possibly the only honest thing anyone can say. In almost twenty years of play, I’ve only heard it from a golfer one time. This was at least a decade ago, but at that time he was the head pro at Chehalem Glenn in Newberg, Oregon. He came and stood behind me as I was hitting balls and watched me for a few minutes. He eventually stopped me and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing. But I know there’s nothing I can do with that.” Honesty. If nothing else, I didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling me the truth. If he had said this or that or yes or no, there’s always the chance that what he was saying to me was just some concoction of blather and snake oil. That all he was trying to do was sell me something. But you can’t sell “I don’t know,” so I knew him to be true.
It was such a rare moment in a world so full of feigned certainty that I didn’t even say anything back to him.
I don’t have a pretty swing.
I didn’t then.
I most certainly do not now.
But what I did do in reply, to honor his sentiment, was fly a few more range balls straight into the pines at the end of the range. Just to let him know how much I appreciated our moment together.
And there’s the magic ingredient.
Ben Hogan, when asked what his secret was said it was in the dirt. And that you had to dig it out with your hands. All by yourself.
Everyone who has ever become a master at anything will tell you the same. That they put in their ten-thousand hours and so should you.
That’s not to say you shouldn’t take lessons. You absolutely should take lessons.
And you should totally listen to your friends who have played much longer than you.
But the only thing that one-hundred percent of the people who have found good golf in their life will all tell you is that you have to hit a million golf balls. Because the ball is the only thing that will never lie to you. Or lead you astray. Because the center of the clubface cannot be faked.
A three-hundred yard drive can happen to almost anyone with the right wind conditions and a dry, sloping fairway. Also, straight can be a fickle friend depending on the loft of the club and the lie of the ball.
And so, with that said, these are the things you can believe we absolutely have to do if we’re searching for our best swings.
You have to take notes. I know it sounds basic. But you have to. Whether you practice every day, or especially if you’re only able to practice every now and then, notes are the best way to pick up where you left off. You can’t hope to string together a progression of repeatable good habits if every time you pick up a club you’re starting from scratch. Take notes. Write down your swing thoughts. What you feel with your grip and how you manage your setup. Your phone has a notes section, and if your phone is always on you, then your swing thoughts are always with you. Don’t forget things. Don’t let things slip away. Write them down and then read them quickly before you go out so you know where to start.
Whenever possible, practice somewhere without rubber mats and fake turf. The game is played on grass and dirt and sand and debris. I can’t think of a worse way to train than to practice on a material that doesn’t even exist in the game.
Consistency is key. Whether you’re using a Swing Speed Radar, a net in your backyard, wiffle balls, the carpet in your living room to putt on, make sure that the feedback you’re getting is legitimate. I once spent a year hitting foam balls at the park, only to find out that the foam balls compress differently than a real ball, and so stay on the club a fraction of a second longer, and so do not fly with anywhere near the same spin as an actual ball. It seams obvious now. But you have to be focused to avoid those kinds of pitfalls.
In the end, even if we’re not the players today that we’d hoped we’d be by now. Even if we don’t have the courage or the money to take countless hours of lessons. Or even if our hours of lessons and study haven’t paid off yet. The truth is, even if we never do achieve a single goal that we set out to accomplish, we can always become better students. And information is wonderful. Knowledge is wonderful. And wisdom is priceless.
So remember this. Good students take notes. They practice how they play. And they find consistent, trustworthy feedback to help define where they’re at on their journey, so that tomorrow will bring with it the hope for better. Maybe even the best. And that’s something we can all count on. Always.
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