I miss golf. It’s only been a week since I last hit a ball but like a jilted lover pouring over photographs of their ex, I now spend my mornings rewatching Rick Shiels trying to break 75 or Mark Crossfield telling me how much spin he gets off the Taylormade Stealth driver in order to get my fix.
I’m stationed in Edinburgh for August. “But John, you’ve got some of the best golf courses in the world on your doorstep!”. Yes, yes I do, but I also have the world’s biggest arts festival to contend with and, alas, no clubs with me.
There’s a chance I might find a round at some point over the month. Hiring clubs is one thing, hiring left-handed clubs is another. The most annoying thing is, over the last few rounds I’d hit what I’m almost tempted to call a run of form.
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My handicap had pretty much plateaued at around the 15 mark for the past six months. Nothing I seemed to do could help me recover the form that saw me break 80 for the first time last year. My driving was all over the place, my nerves over short putts had returned, and I even found myself unable to hit trusty steeds like my hybrid and 9-iron. Oh, and my wedges? Forget about it.
From the toe and hosel to the top of the driver, it was like there was a forcefield around the center of all my clubs. After a lot of swearing and second-guessing, I finally threw in the towel and took two weeks off golf entirely. I’d got to the point where I’d forgotten what it was I was meant to remember and I thought the best thing would be to forget everything and have a bit of a rest. I canceled my roll-up bookings and took the trolley out of the boot to gather a bit of dust in my cupboard.
It worked wonders.
Who would have thought the best way to fix your swing could be not to swing at all?
Well, not a club anyway. I did treat myself to a training aid.
Whenever I meet a pro or play with a really decent golfer the one question I ask is ‘of all the training aids out there, are any of them actually any good?’. I’m not one for taking too many gadgets to the range with me. Even my alignment sticks tend to get ignored in favor of a 5-iron laid on the range mat. But one thing a lot of people have mentioned is the orange whip.
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I have no link to whatever company makes it. I paid full whack for mine and there are plenty of similar models out there. It’s just that the name ‘orange whip’ is the only real way to describe it. It’s basically a super flexible shaft with a big ball on one end and it helps you with tempo and balance. It’s also a good way to warm up before a round if you don’t have time for the range.
So during my self-imposed exile, I stood in my garden swinging my wobbly stick with a ball on the end in a display that must have given my neighbors some concern over my sanity. But it taught me something I’d been getting wrong for a long time: the difference between weight and pressure.
As amateurs when we have a lesson, or watch a video. We’re tempted to focus on key words or tips, and forget to properly groove into a consistent feeling. And so I’d come away from some driver lessons thinking “Weight on the back foot! Weight on the back foot! Remember… WEIGHT ON THE BACK FOOT”. But what my brain had chosen to ignore is all the other parts of the puzzle my coach had been trying to impart on me in the 30 minutes I thought would solve a lifetime of bad habits.
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I found myself hitting drives off the top of the club. In my mind I couldn’t make sense of that: if my weight is on the back foot how is the ball getting anywhere near the top of the club? Not since I started was I hitting so many provisional balls.
The problem is, in the wrong hands, weight is a sideways force, so in order to be able to swing a club when all of your weight is on your back foot, a bad golfer like me finds themselves needing to move all that weight forwards . The result? Sky-high drives mixed in with low skidding ones.
After two weeks with a swing stick (and a very good video about drivers from some guy called Rory McIlroy), I worked out what I’d been doing was leaning so far back I’d had to sway forward to correct it. My torso must have looked like a pendulum. Replacing the thought of ‘weight’ with ‘pressure’ seems to have done the trick.
When I returned from my sabbatical the results were immediate, probably saving myself six shots a round just in penalties off the tee. This confidence spilled over into the rest of my game too. Less pressure on my approaches, more commitment with my putter, and the wedges? Well, they were still crap actually, but you can’t have it all.
It’s been almost a year since I broke 80, and I did it twice in the last fortnight! Not just that, but in consecutive rounds. The slight annoyance was none of these rounds counted for handicap.
Still, while I can’t see the results in the stats, at least I might have the chance to be a bandit for a few weeks when I get home. High Wycombe members, you have been warned!
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