Mansplaining at the Range

I am seething with rage right now. Just got back from the range. I was practicing with my two brand-new Cleveland wedges with ladies graphite shafts. (I recently decided to switch from using my husband's old Cleveland wedges with the stiff iron shafts.) Anyway, I was at the range which has special targets just for practicing short wedge shots. I was almost done with my bucket when some old short, skinny white guy comes up to me and says, "Have you ever watched the LPGA?"
   Having no idea why he was asking me this question, I said, "Yeah, why?"
   "You should watch the ladies on the LPGA," he said. "I noticed your arm, it's like this--" he makes a motion of bending his arm.
   "You mean I bend my arm on the backswing?" I said.
   "Yeah. You need to keep your left arm straight," he said.
   "Have you been watching me this whole time?" I said, accusingly.
   "Well, a couple times," he said, sheepishly, looking away. "Your arm bends on the backswing."
   "I know it does," I said. "I've asked a lot of golf teachers and they all say it doesn't matter. What's more important is what happens at impact."
   "Well, that's true," he said.
   "Have you ever seen John Daly? Jordan Spieth?" I said. "The straight left arm thing is a myth. But why are you telling me this? Do you feel free to come up and comment on my swing just because I'm a woman?" I looked around, noticing there weren't any other women around. I began to get quite angry. "Would you do that to any of these guys around here?"
   The man kept trying to mansplain the golf swing to me. He had no clue that "keep your left arm straight" is overly simplistic advice, just like the commonly heard admonishment to "keep your head down." This douche bag just kept insisting, "If you watch the ladies on the LPGA, some of them are small like you, and they keep their left arm straight."
   "Oh really? Well, they're a lot younger and have been golfing since they were young. You have no idea what kind of physical limitations I might have. And how dare you criticize me! Who do you think you are, my husband?"
   Finally, the man started to back away.
   "Thanks a lot for ruining my day!" I said sharply.

   Later it occurred to me that this asshole might have assumed that I couldn't hit the ball very far, not even noticing that I am practicing my short game with wedges. But at the time, I was so angry I could have punched the guy in the nose.
   This wasn't the first time I'd been approached at a driving range, but in the past it was usually some random dude trying to start a harmless conversation. This time was different. This time, I almost felt sexually harrassed. Golf is a sport that is overwhelmingly dominated by men, but in this day and age, women on the range or on the course should not be considered an anomaly.
   I'm thinking about writing a letter of complaint to the range. Maybe I should demand that they put signs up at each stall, reminding people that it's rude to stare and comment on other people's swings. And if you're a man, keep your damn mouth shut around the women!

Zig-Zag Golf

This may look like modern art, but this is just an illustration to show how I've been playing so far this spring. On the left was a par 4 where I teed off into the trees, then punched out and hit an amazingly perfect 3-wood shot to land within a few feet of the hole. On the right was a par 4 where I teed off into another fairway, then hit a risky hook shot into the right rough, followed by a well-executed wedge onto the green.

On the first hole, I made the putt for par. On the second hole, I made a double-bogey (but only because of poor putting.) Net score for both holes was a 2. Which just goes to show, sometimes a short distance between two points doesn't have to be a straight line.

Another New Course Record

Saturday began with an inauspicious "Windows is preparing to install updates... " error message on my hubby's laptop. An hour later, the message was still there.
   "We have to leave in 30 minutes to make our tee time," I said. "Can you just turn off your computer?"
   "It says, 'Do not power off your computer,'" hubby replied.
   "If we leave it running while we play golf, what if it overheats and explodes and burns the house down?" I said. I often worry about such things before going to play golf. I worry that I've left the coffeemaker on and it will explode and burn the house down. Or that I've left the freezer door ajar and everything will melt and a pool of liquid will soak through the kitchen floor.
   "It's not going to explode," said hubby.
   "I don't want to leave it running all day," I said.
   "But it says not to turn it off," he said.
   "What do you think will happen if you turn it off, it will explode?" I said. "Maybe we should just cancel our tee time."
   Finally, hubby rebooted the laptop contrary to the screen command not to, and the updates installed quickly and smoothly and we made our tee time just in time.

   It was a good thing, too, as I ended up playing pretty well and I shot an 88, a course record for me at this particular track in northern Baltimore County.

   Here's one of my approach shots with the scenic rolling hills in the distant background.

The greens were aerated, which was a bonus if they happened to align straight with the putting line. But when they ran diagonally to my putting line, I just got dizzy and confused.

Still, I made enough putts to score respectably low. I have to give some credit to my newest club in my bag. I recently traded in my old G20 regular flex 3-wood for a new G25 senior flex 3-wood to match the G25 senior flex 5-wood hubby bought me last year.  (Keep in mind that the Ping G25 series is actually already discontinued, but I can't afford to buy the absolute newest clubs all the time. I can only afford them after a price drop or two.) Whether new or just new to me, I must say that the equipment upgrade helped my game. The clubs really do seem more forgiving and hit straighter than my old ones.

Or maybe I just felt relaxed and confident, knowing that hubby's laptop wasn't going to explode.

Putting Out of a Bunker

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday I was golfing in sunny, windy 65-degree weather. Today I'm stuck inside watching snow accumulate on the lawn. Luckily, the brain has something called a memory that can replay pleasant scenes in just this kind of circumstance.

Yesterday started with a restless feeling, as I checked the online tee times of my local course and found that nothing was available till after 12:30pm. So I spent the morning stretching and washing my clubs and winnowing them down to a set of 10, which would make my bag lighter since I was going to be walking. I ate a breakfast sandwich and headed out to the range to practice before my round.

Golf season is gearing up, and it was nice to see some familiar faces around and engage in some light chitchat about golfy things like recent injuries and performance clothing. I got paired with 3 nice gentlemen who were squeezing in a round before they headed off on a golf trip to Myrtle Beach. Naturally, the talk turned to the weather. While it was a sunny day, the wind had some wicked gusts that were throwing me off my game. But after one of the guys mentioned he wasn't looking forward to the 20-degree drop in temps in the forecast in Myrtle Beach, I decided I had no right to complain. Imagine scrimping and saving all year for a week-long vacation, only to find the normally balmy weather suddenly turn cold and rainy. But as any golfer knows, them's the breaks. And to quote Bobby Jones, "Golf is the closest game to the game we call life. You get bad breaks from good shots; you get good breaks from bad shots -- but you have to play the ball where it lies."

The stakes were lower for me. I was just trying to get in my golf fix before freezing temps set in. The handicap season hasn't started yet, so after the first couple double-bogeys, I stopped keeping score. The fairways were still hard and tight and full of patches of dried-out bermuda grass, so it was hard for me to hit any decent irons shots. But I did hit some respectable driver shots and managed to par a couple holes. (To my 90-year-old self who will reread this blog after my days of golf have ended: Remember that long par 3 with water on the left and bunkers on the right? You set up a couple yards back from the forward tees and pured your 5-wood to within 10 feet, pin-high. Great shot, you!)

And I tried something new on a dogleg-right par 4, which was to purposely try and hit a slice. It didn't work, and I ended up playing from the adjacent fairway, hitting through trees only to have my ball rejected like a coin from a broken vending machine. Finally, I punched through and finished the hole with some unpretty putting. But that's what the off-season is for, trying things you wouldn't normally do if you were keeping score.

I also learned something new from one of the guys who landed in bunkers so often I couldn't help but notice. Normally, I don't stare at people swinging, because it's just not polite, but after one bunker shot, I couldn't help but see that he emerged with a putter in his hand.

"You can use a putter to get out of a bunker?" I said.
"Oh sure," he said, "but only if it's a shallow one with no lip."

I was amazed. This was something I'd never seen a highly paid golf professional do on TV, but something I wouldn't be too proud to try if the opportunity arose. Not that I'm going to be aiming for any bunkers. But it's good to know it's an option when you find yourself getting a tough break like landing in a bunker. It's nice to have a new way to play the ball as it lies.

The Day I Forgot How to Drive

It's February and this weekend was almost in the 70s. Of course we had to play golf. The local courses were booked solid from 8am to 2pm so we tried a course farther afield. We'd played there before many times, but not in the past year or so. It was slow, and the warm weather made me feel sleepy. I felt out of sorts from the first tee. My drive at Hole 1 was okay, but after that I seemed to forget how to swing any of my woods. Add to that the topsy-turvy strangeness of playing an unfamiliar course, and it was a recipe for a frustrating round of dead-left hooks and worm-burners.

Whenever that happens, I focus on other things, like working on my art photography for that coffee-table book I dream of publishing. This photo is called, "Long Shadow Girl with Putter."

At least my irons were working, and I made some pretty decent approach shots.

This one was a shot for birdie... but I missed.

This was a shot for double-bogey... and I made it.

On the 18th hole, my driver started swinging straight again. But I had already stopped keeping score. Thank goodness we're still in the off-season for handicaps. And I can just enjoy chipping it close like this, without it having to mean anything:

How did I fix my driver swing? Well, hubby gently reminded me to take the club back on a straight path, not swing back around my body like a tether ball. It's something I should have remembered from my "list," which I carry around in my purse and refer to whenever I temporarily lose my swing.

My list changes from time to time, but currently, it is comprised of just 6 things:

1) straight back, straight through

2) lead swing with left hip

3) keep eye on ball

4) right hand active

5) use obliques

6) for driver, tilt up head, with slightly open club face 

My list also has 3 additional reminders to do the wrist-hinge exercise before a round (where I take my stance, grip the club and just hing my wrists without taking my arms back), use a little forward press of the grip when hitting irons, and put my weight on the front foot when I am hitting wedges.

So that's my current list. Now all I need to do is remember to look at it.

One Fine Day

It's winter, so I've been keeping an eye on the weather forecast, looking out for a mild day. Last Wednesday was such a day. I hadn't played a full round since late October and I hadn't swung a club since New Year's Day. I was nervous about heading straight out to the course, so in the morning I went to the range and hit a small bucket. I was happy to find that I had no leg pain. It looked like all my strength training and stretching were paying off.

When my tee time came around, I was not surprised to see the course buzzing with activity. I was paired with a beer-drinking solo and a pair of cigar-smoking golf buddies. Luckily, they were all walkers and nice guys. They were avid golfers, too, and the talk focused on bucket list courses played and soon to play. They were impressed I'd played Streamsong and Torrey Pines. They said I absolutely have to make it up to Bethpage.

Most of all, we reveled in the fine weather.
"Isn't this just the most perfect day?" said one of the cigar-smoking duo.
"I know," I said. "I feel like I'm in a dream."

I didn't mention what was really on my mind, that my mom passed away on the day after new year's. And I haven't even begun to process my emotions. In times of stress, golf has been my therapy. It is a chance for me to unwrinkle my brain.

So I focused, with relief, on the game. I played a bright pink ball that day, and the guys marveled at how dependably I seemed to be making all my putts in the 10-to-15 foot range.

"Putting is one of things about golf that seems to get better with age," I told them. "Have you ever played golf with 80-year-olds? They can't drive it as far but they sure can putt."

I told them about an 85-year-old guy I once played with. His name was Eugene. I could tell he was just grateful to be alive and active enough to play golf. He made a birdie on the 18th hole and got so excited he literally jumped up in the air. "I can't wait to get home and call my son to tell him I made a birdie!" he said, as happy as a child.

The men smiled, glad to hear that golf really can be played well into one's golden years.

"I live for golf," said one of the cigar-smokers. He was older, retired, and I could tell something about my Eugene story resonated with him. He was a guy who'd obviously had many accomplishments that, to the world at large, would seem far more important than chasing a tiny ball into a hole. And yet today, that was all that mattered.

We were all quiet for awhile, enjoying the game and the moment while it lasted. Like life, golf is a game that periodically makes you aware of its profound absurdity, as well as the supreme gift it is to play it, all the while knowing it will inevitably come to an end, both joys and sorrows.

Golf Resolutions for 2017

Happy New Year (a few days late)! This will be brief since I only had one resolution last year:

#1: Get fit for golf.  How did I do? Well, my forearm tendinitis is gone, and my gluteal and leg pains have improved but not disappeared. However, I did manage to log 20 or so rounds of golf in 2016, and I held steady with a 17.6 handicap at the end of the season. I managed to break my course record at one of my local haunts with an 88, and I shot an 87 at another local course, tying my personal best there. I even managed to gain some distance off the tee. So, I suppose I was fit enough for some golf in 2016. 

For my new year's resolution, I want to continue the trend and keep it simple:

Resolution #1: Stay fit for golf. While I'm being phased out in physical therapy, I've started up another golf strength training weekly session at the gym, added some Pilates reformer sessions and even signed up for monthly massages. In the off-season, I'm focusing on building up core and upper body strength, while working on rotational flexibility too -- these are all important to the golf swing.

It looks like a cold winter ahead, so I may not post a new update till spring. The pictures in this post are from New Year's Day, when it was unseasonably warm and hubby and I shared a small bucket of balls. Even though I haven't swung a club for 2 months, I managed to get off a decent shot or two. And I didn't hurt myself. A good omen, I think.