I have a golf equipment store not too far from my home and it never fails, every time I walk into it to buy golf balls, tees or get a club regripped, I walk out with a new golf club. Let me clarify. It is not really a new club but a previously owned club (Sounds so much better than “used” club. Kind of like how they market a used Mercedes Benz). Your first question might be “why a used club when the place is filled with brand new ones?” Good question. My first and most honest answer is that I am really cheap. Have you seen how much a new golf club costs, not to mention a whole set of them. I am not going to be sucked in by “Big Golf” (a term used to make an entity the bad guy instead of taking the blame myself).
I always stroll by the used clubs, being held in old golf bags, just to browse, looking at the price tag first, then the club itself. Yes, they may be a little beat up and blemished but you never know. This old club, with a little love, may have the one shot I need to defeat my golf partners in our little betting pool we have when we hit the links. Did I just admit to gambling while golfing? I did and wagering while golfing is like a fish living in water, birds flying, and Patrick Reed fudging on golf rules.
There is one little club I once purchased that became my favorite choice no matter how far I had to hit it. It’s a rescue wood. The rescue (hybrid) club was designed by a mad scientist in a golf lab somewhere, just to pluck more money out of a golfers’ pockets. The idea of a rescue is that it mimics a fairway wood but goes the distance of the iron it is numbered like, allegedly making it easier to hit for the amateur golfer. Reality is, I have seen many of these hybrids flung just as far and accompanied by just as much cussing as any iron I have seen hit. But I digress. This dented club with its paint flaking off really worked for me. I could hit it 100 yards to 160 yards depending on how I swung and it only cost me a whole $6.99. I love that club…and I lost it once and I was devastated, like losing a son but worse. (Sorry boys).
The other issue I have to deal with is my golf buddies, with their shiny new clubs and headcovers for every single club, making fun of my bag filled with “experienced” clubs. So what if my clubs are older than several of my golf buddies. Who cares that Arnold Palmer wouldn’t have used my clubs in his heyday because they were ancient then. They’re my clubs and I like them. I’m also of the philosophy that it’s not the club that is the problem, it is the idiot (golfer) attached to it. I’ve seen enough of these guys’ swing, and their final scores, to realize even the maddest of golf scientists can not design a club that could save their game.
I just had a landmark birthday and my sons decided I needed a new set of golf clubs as a gift and made arrangements to have me fitted for new irons. My golf buddies were also part of this conspiracy. I guess they were embarrassed to be seen with me and my clubs on Saturday mornings. I decided to stop the constant harassment and go for it.
One evening I went to a golf shop not far from my house and met with a golf pro who was going to measure my current swing and then suggest and customize a set of clubs that will help me hit the ball straighter and farther. Yea, sure. I was set up on an AstroTurf mat for hitting golf balls. I was then instructed to hit the balls into the giant bed sheet that was in front of me. A sensor was placed near where the ball was placed on the mat and was able to record my swing. It determined the distance I hit the ball, how straight, if I sliced or hooked it, how high I hit it and the spin on the ball. Across from me was a monitor that had a line that showed the trajectory of my ball and showed my distance and how much off center I was. Why have golf courses? My buddies and I could just squeeze into one of these rooms and play our round of golf digitally. We would never get rained out, pollute the air from the golf carts and foul language, and I would never lose another ball. All that land occupied by golf courses can be used for other, more important things, like mini-malls, landfills, more cookie cutter houses…wait, maybe I need to rethink this.
After trying a variety of clubs, sized, adjusted and tweaked to fit my ugly golf swing, I was done. I only purchased a set of irons. After monitoring my swing with my driver, the pro said he couldn’t adjust a club enough to fit it and suggested just keeping my old, dented driver. Thank goodness. A new driver is about the price of an Italian sports car, not named Fiat.
This weekend’s round of golf will be my first chance to test drive my new clubs. My problem will be which club to choose for each shot. If I hit the ball longer and straighter, like I have been promised, my old club selection may result in a ball flying the green and into a trap or water hazard. I also can’t remember the last time I actually aimed towards the target I wanted to reach. If I don’t have the big hook or slice I always adjusted for, I may end up injuring a fellow golfer on another hole or put my ball through a window of a house along the course.
I will adapt. I have been swinging golf clubs since I was seven and for a long time golfed left handed until I couldn’t find left handed clubs to use. Age has taken its toll on my game and my distance but has been replaced by experience and course knowledge. I now know a short hit down the middle is better than a booming drive heading for out of bounds and I know chipping and putting matter. I also know just when to clear my throat in my opponent’s back swing. You know how guys my age phlegm up so much. I also know how to hide my favorite, old beat up club under a head cover, keeping my secret weapon close
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