Bladed Balata Blog

SPONSORED BY: FREE KUDOS My wife works in the buying office of a large retail store. And, while we’re talking about her, it can’t go unsaid, or be said enough, that I believe her to be the finest human-being I have ever had the privilege to know. She has a story. A backstory, if you will. Like we all do. But is the amazing person that she is today not because of it. But in spite of it. And I truly believe she is the bravest, smartest, sweetest creature who may have ever lived.                 Now, what were even talking about?                 Of course. Golf and yoga.                 My wife works in the city and I stay home with our two perfect children.                 Yes, they’re per...

Of course we’ve all seen them.   The customized golf ball. The classics include “IF FOUND PLEASE HIT IT BETTER THAN THE LAST GUY” and “I’M NOT LOST I’M HIDING FROM _____________” or, contrarily, “PLEASE STOP TOUCHING MY BALLS”. They’re fun and funny and I have always kind of hoped I’d someday be grown up enough to have my own. Tiger has his own. Just stamped TW. It’s rad. Kind of elitist, but still awesome. A pretty cool sort of special. Your own branding. And I had, until very recently, been waiting for the day when I would, too, be cool enough to have my own. Ladies and gentlemen, I have good news. It’s not as hard as I thought. It’s not hard at all, really. I have cracked the completely non-existent code. Or, more precisely, my beautiful sister-in-law has. And the solution comes factory direct. In this case TaylorMade’s factory . And for less than the price of the package of sharpies you’d have to buy in order to mark your ball like the unlearned, inexperi...

When I was younger and just starting out I googled that a lot. How to play cheap golf. How to play golf for free. Where to play the cheapest golf. Will someone pay me to play golf? How do I get sponsored to just play golf? I wished I had a rich uncle. Or just some random benevolent benefactor. Like Robin Masters from Magnum P.I. “Yes,” Robin would say to me, over a rotary dial phone, “You absolutely may (Yes may. Not can. Robin is a writer and his diction and grammar are impeccable.) live in my fantastically large and beautifully crafted pool house that exists unused on my 200-acre Hawaiian estate while haphazardly driving my Ferrari on winding North Shore back roads, because, for reasons I will politely leave unstated, I owe you my life and my favor and, well, I really just like you and want you to live your best life.” But, I (This is me now and no longer Robin Masters. Yes, I know we sound very similar. People mix us up all the time.), inst...

Friday was my 37 th birthday. Before that time, I’m pretty sure I had inadvertently been part of an unpaid research project. I love beer . I love wine , too. But I have always loved beer . At first it was Coors Light . Then gradually I moved on to really amazing beers. Crafted and artisanal beers . I think their wonderful. I think beer can be one of God’s greatest gifts. And that it serves a profound purpose in life. In lives in general. And served my life, specifically throughout certain periods, as a reward, or even a relief, after long and hard days, weeks, and years. You could even go so far as to point out that my two beautiful children honestly might not even exist in the world today if my wife and I hadn’t had a few glasses of wine on each of those magical nights of their respective conceptions. It’s all a game of what-if? and I-wonder-what-might-have-been. Let’s not get lost in those catacombs again. What I do know is this. I’m not much of a drinker anymore. I ...