The Headcover Has Two Faces

Because of the fall season, I only recently I noticed that the Defectress's TaylorMade headcovers look like a bunch of smiling carved pumpkin faces (or grinning ghosts) poking out from the top of her motorized walking cart.

Happy Halloween!

View From a Par

It's been a tough couple of months on the family front. My brother is going through a rough divorce. Another of my beloved aunts has passed away. Issues from the past resurface and worries about the future nag. But golf is where the present lies, at least for me. Yesterday was an unseasonably warm day, the kind that had me wishing for more summer. But here it is, the fall, with the golden hues of autumn offered up as early compensation for the cold weather to come. I love fall golf. Fewer bugs, less sweating and lovely colors all around. It's even lovelier when you've just made a par and look back from the tee ground on the next hole and see, in the background, the colorful trees reflected on the reservoir, and, in the foreground, the tiniest flicker of a yellow flag waving at you, as if to say, "Till next time."

The Play Day

I know you're dying to know how the tournament went last week. Technically it was a "play day," which is one of half a dozen or so events hosted at private golf clubs every year, giving MSGA members a chance to play at clubs they normally wouldn't have access to. Last week's play day was at the Suburban Club, which is a well-kept course in Baltimore County, within a 15-minute drive from my house. Play days are pretty no-frills. There's no lunch or awards dinner and no goodie bags like you'd get at a charity tournament. You just register and pay in advance and show up at your tee time when the day comes.

Hubby and I played as a mixed couple, and we knew in advance that there would only be one other mixed couple playing. I'll call them the Mouthpiece and Mrs. Robinson, since he was a chatty lawyer and she was about a decade older than him. Our tee time was at 12:40 pm, and so was theirs. Our handicaps were 19 (me) and 13 (hubby), and theirs were 14 (her) and 5 (him). They knew each other from being members at the same private club in another county. They weren't married, but had already played several play day tournaments as a team, and won. "He doesn't even like me," said Mrs. Robinson of her partner. "He's just using me."

I was a bit nervous, but not really. I knew that we'd have to play flawlessly to have a shot at beating them, even with all the extra strokes we'd be getting due to our handicaps. I just wanted to have a good time and hopefully break 100. Hubby was hoping we'd win, and if he played as well as he'd been playing lately, we'd have a shot. Mixed couple scoring means whichever partner's score is lowest on a hole stands for the couple's score.

Unfortunately, the weather had been cruel the day before, with heavy rains drenching all the golf courses into soggy sponges. On tournament day, there was a chance of rain, but it stayed dry nearly till the end. On my first tee shot, I hit the ground and splattered mud across my jacket, which pretty much forecast the kind of day I would have.

Fortunately, the Mouthpiece and Mrs. Robinson weren't assholes. I think they were actually kind of bored playing against us, since we weren't much of a challenge. I also think they played worse than they could have, since they got lazy as the round progressed. The Mouthpiece made some mediocre shots you'd never think someone with a 5 handicap could even make. And Mrs. Robinson got lazy about counting strokes and said she made a 5 on one hole, when I'm pretty sure she made a 7. Not that 2 strokes mattered. They beat us handily. I guess hubby and I could have had them DQ'd if we were hard-asses. But we're not. In the end, I shot 100 even. As a team, hubby and I grossed an 89 and netted 72. So I guess you could say that, as a golfing couple, we are right on par.

Monkey Fingers

If you're not a golfer, the phrase "in the fingers" might sound kind of pervy. Or, since Halloween is coming up, "in the fingers" might bring to mind a creepy image of skeletal hands. If you are a golfer, you may have heard the phrase and, like me, had no idea what it really meant.

The night before my Tuesday round, I happened to catch Michael Breed on the Golf Channel talking about how the golf grip should be "in the fingers." Since I had recently changed how I gripped my clubs, I was paying special attention to how I placed my hands on the club. Suddenly I had a eureka moment about my new grip, the baseball grip, which is also known as the "ten-finger grip." So after hearing the phrase "in the fingers," I made a note to try it out the next morning.

Rather than feel the club grip primarily in my palms, I made an effort to wrap my fingers around the club and take hold primarily with the fingers. As I completed my grip, my palms wrapped around too, of course, but the pressure on the grip was mainly in my fingers. Picture a monkey's fingers hanging on to a tree branch, and you get the idea.

Anyway, it worked. Somehow I felt like I had a more secure hold on the club and it led to better contact and more distance. Remember that par 4 I mentioned in my previous post, the one where I could never make it on in two? Well, I hit driver far enough on Tuesday to have a shot at getting on in regulation on that hole. (If only my 3-wood didn't tail off to the right on the approach.) And I ended up shooting an 89 for the round. All thanks to three little words: in the fingers.

Three Months Forward, Two Steps Back

I can't believe I haven't blogged since the end of June. Well, that's what happens when you play lots of golf. No time to write about it. Anyway, the highlight of the summer was making the annual trip to California and taking a lesson at the Aviara Golf Academy. My teacher was a young dude named Jamie Puterbaugh. After analyzing my swing, he noticed that the palm of my right hand would literally come off the handle of the golf club as I took my backswing. I had always taken a light grip with the right hand, using my left hand more to grip the club. For some reason, I had always thought the right hand should have a more passive role than the left, and only the thumb and middle finger of the right hand should apply pressure to the grip.

Apparently, this is not an uncommon problem. Jamie cited a recent student who had played golf for years and had become progressively worse till he was ready to quit the game. He thought the left hand should have a dominant role in the grip too. Then Jamie changed his grip so he was more even-handed, and he went on to become a scratch player. Okay, maybe not a scratch player, but a better player than he was before.

Anyway, the take-home message, according to Jamie, was: "Golf is a game played with both hands."

During the lesson, Jamie advised me to do three basic things:
1) use the baseball grip (which I had toyed with before)
2) allow my hips to turn, rather than slide to the right, on my backswing
3) think about changing to a smaller-than-standard-size grip, since my hands are small (I haven't done it yet, but I am thinking about it)

Below are before (left) and after (right) pictures of my grip. In the "before" picture, it really looks like my right hand is barely gripping the club at all. I'm surprised the club never flew right out of my hands.


Jamie also taught me two drills:
1) the right-hand-only backswing drill, where I take a backswing with my right hand only, then bring the left hand over to grip the club.
2) the whirly-bird drill, where I grip the club and try to whip the club head around in a circle as fast as possible while keeping a secure grip on the club.

At first the baseball grip thing seemed totally insane, but with the new grip and the tips Jamie taught me, I saw an immediate increase in distance, especially with my irons. But once I got back home and played my regular course, I had a breakthrough. During a practice swing with my driver on the 10th hole, I took the grip Jamie taught me and really stabilized my legs so I wouldn't slide to the right on my backswing. As I rotated, I really felt my glutes and core "activate." When I released into the downswing, I made a "swoosh" sound louder than I'd ever made before. Then, when I actually hit the ball, it flew about 215 yards. This is about 45 yards longer than I'd been used to hitting on that particular hole. I was ecstatic! I was able to repeat the swing for the remainder of the round. There was a par 4 on that course that I'd never been able to reach in 2, and for the first time I could. It was an amazing feeling!

I played a few rounds with this more powerful driver swing, but my scores were totally erratic due to never knowing how my distances would actually pan out. Not knowing whether my 8-iron would fly 90 yards or 110 can result in some unnecessary strokes. Within the span of a month, I was shooting scores ranging from 89 to 104 on the same course! 

And then, I suddenly lost the driver mojo. Not sure how, but it left me like a thief in the night. Now I am back to driving at 170 or 180 yards, occasionally more if the ground is dry and I get the ball to roll. Oddly enough, my short game seems to be improving. I can chip pretty accurately in the 30-to-50 yard range. However, my putting is still up to the golf gods. Today, for example, I made an amazing 30-foot putt where the hole just seemed to open up with divine light when my ball dropped in. 

But it all just feels so erratic. My handicap is creeping up, too. I am trending at an 18.8 now. Hubby and I signed up for an MSGA play day tournament in a few weeks. So I've got some work cut out for me. I really wish I had a dependable, consistent swing. I need to get that mid-summer mojo back! And the only way to do that is get back on the course... tomorrow.

Sweet 16.9L

Big news. I finally registered for an official handicap. I have long played with an unofficial handicap index, but since breaking 90 a couple of times this season, I decided I'm good enough at golf to start recording my scores in a public fashion. The process was surprisingly simple. I paid $25 at my local course and got an email with a login name and password for a Maryland State Golf Association account, which allowed me to sign in and post scores. I posted 15 rounds since the end of April, including various local and away courses. Using 6 of these 15 scores, the MSGA website generated a "trend handicap" of... drum roll please... 16.9L! The L stands for "local handicap" which could mean a lot of different things, but in my case it means my number is a trend handicap. Honestly, I thought my handicap would be in the 20s, since I mostly shoot in the 90s, but my local course is considered a tough course for the ladies, so this helps bring my number down.

My handicap is not official yet. If you look up my name in the MSGA player lookup, you would find "NH" next to my name, which means "no handicap." Official handicaps are calculated using the lowest 10 of a golfer's most recent 20 rounds, so I will need to post 5 more rounds. If I want a lower handicap index, I better make them good ones!

A Change of Mood

Been playing plenty of golf the past month. Hubby and I took a road trip to see his family in Cincinnati and bookended the week with 2 rounds of golf. On the way there, we played Granville, which is a Donald Ross course near a quaint college town. It was the first Donald Ross course I ever played, and as soon as I stepped onto the first tee, I felt steeped in historical ambiance. There's something undeniably appealing about playing a time-worn course designed by one of the great golf architects. The trees are mature and the humped fairways drain exceptionally well, despite a deluge of rainfall the day before.

On the way home, we played Lodestone, which is a newish course at the Wisp resort in the mountains of Western Maryland. This course was gorgeous in its own way, with well-manicured greens and pretty valley vistas.

I shot a 98 at both courses, which isn't great for me, but isn't terrible. Yesterday, hubby and I played Maryland National, which is a bit closer to home. It's another nice-looking course, with sweeping views of farmland and ritzy houses. But hubby forgot to follow Couples Rules and I found myself irretrievably agitated, so I ending up shooting a 102.

Today I wanted a quiet solo round. The Defectress had an early tee time at the local course, but it was too early for me, plus last week, she was chattier than usual, and my game suffered so I thought I should take a break from her.

Somehow I lucked out because there were lots of empty tee slots in the late-morning hours, so I booked myself a tee time after 10:30am, when it appeared no was one signed up for several slots before or after. Of course, this didn't preclude the possibility of getting paired with a walk-on. When I approached the starter, a wizened gentleman wearing a Torrey Pines cap, he said, "Playing by yourself, are you?" And I replied, "Well, hopefully." Starters always seem surprised by people wanting to play alone, especially women. They look at you like you're drinking alone at a bar. 

   "I do have a walk-on that might be coming up," the starter said. "Would you want to play with him?"

   "It depends," I said, explaining that I've had some not-so-pleasant experiences playing with cigar-smoking, flask-sipping types. 

   "Do you want to have a look at him first?"
   "Okay sure. If he looks okay, I'll give you a signal," I said, making a thumbs up sign. "And if I don't want to play with him, I'll do this," I said, waving my hand like I was swatting away a fly.

   The starter laughed.

Another old gentleman approached the tee box, someone who looked like he might need help sighting his golf ball in rough grass. The starter and I both thought it was the walk-on. I gave the starter the "no go" signal. But it turned out he was just there to watch his grandsons take a golf clinic, and he was looking for some friendly chitchat to kill time. Some starters are kind of like bartenders. You can just walk up and start talking to them about anything. The starter box should have a sign saying "the doctor is in."

So the starter started chatting with the grandpa, and I got waved along to the first tee, blessedly alone.

I was behind a foursome of portly older ladies, and there was a slow threesome of beginner guys behind me. I was able to take my time and line up putts and I even kept the ball in the fairway most of the time. There was nothing remarkable about the way I played except I felt calm, cool and collected. I enjoyed myself tremendously. I even birdied a hole. A ranger saw it and called out, "Nice birdie!"

When you're playing alone, rangers look out for you. They'll even help you find your ball if you lose it. Not that I needed help today, but it was nice to know a ranger was around if you needed one. I stopped and chatted with one of the rangers at the turn. He said he used to play golf, but doesn't much anymore due to a bad foot. He said he misses it. "Golf has some great rewards," he said wistfully.

I was 9 over at the turn, and continued to make straight bogeys for the next 8 holes. I had some birdie and par chances, but my putter, while passable, wasn't performing as well as it could.

On the last hole, a par 5, I hit a decent tee shot, and then hit two 3-wood shots to get myself within a wedge shot of the hole. I'd remembered to bring my laser rangefinder, so I knew what would get me to the pin. And then I executed the shot, exactly how I planned. The picture below shows how close I landed. Yes, golf does have some great rewards.  

The best part was, I made the putt for par and I ended up with an 89 for the round, making this the fourth time I have ever broken 90. Afterwards, I was simply filled with glee. There's nothing like a good round to change your mood. As most true golfers know, a good round can change everything.