A Tale of Two Stances, or How I Learned to Golf Merely Badly, Rather Than Disastrously
It was the worst of times. The very worst. I was hitting the golf ball about as bad as it can be hit, and it was getting worse. Then I hit bottom: I was swinging so badly that I wasn't hitting different clubs different distances.
I'm not even joking. I was hitting consistently, which in most circumstances would be a plus, but not here: every shot, with every club, was going 50 yards forward and 50 yards to the right. I swear I could have been swinging a putter out there.
Frustrated, I turned to my oldest and best friend: the internet. As usual, she had so much to say that it was difficult to sort through, but I did find a helpful site (from the BBC, of all places) with a section called "Why does my ball do that?" And as I read through it, it came to me: I'd fucked around with nearly every other aspect of my swing, but I never changed how far I was standing from the ball. I'd been standing too damn far away. So the next time I went to the range, I tried standing a little closer, and sure enough, it now makes a difference what club I use!
Not that I'm swinging well now, though. Oh my, no. I still have a dreadful push-slice, to the point that I aim 45 degrees left of target and still end up to the right half the time. But now, when I swing my pitching wedge it's a push-slice that travels 65 yards in the air, and when I swing my driver it's a push-slice that travels 165 yards in the air, instead of every club being a push-slice that travels 50 yards in the air. I'm going to go ahead and call that a step forward.
Plus, further study has given me some thoughts on what might be causing the push and the slice. I must get back to the range to test out my theories. If I can fix both halves of the push-slice, that should also go a long way toward solving the distance problem.
"Look at the sportsmanship, the enthusiasm, the respect that these two men have for each other--it makes me sick."
Bobby "the Brain" Heenan is the greatest commentator ever.
I am here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I'm all out of bubblegum.
Finally saw the classic movie
They Live last night. It's pretty weird, but I quite liked it. Rowdy Roddy Piper does a surprisingly good job as the noble, but not entirely bright, hero who discovers sunglasses that let him see the world as it truly is--aliens are living among us and, with the help of subliminal broadcasting, fucking with society to the extent that they can pretty much grab the Earth's resources unopposed.
Again, it's strange, but in an endearing way. Nada's response to this revelation is violent, thoughtless, and maybe even a little insane, which is quite different than what we expect from a film's protagonist, but it makes sense for this character, and it's an interesting perspective. There's also an extremely long fight scene--between two protagonists, no less--that feels out of place, but actually fits quite well, if you think about it (which you certainly will in the time it takes for the fight to play out).
It's also got some fantastic lines, such as the one that I've used as the title of this post. And really, it's worth watching for that alone. The Movie Central channels seem to show it every once in a while; I highly recommend giving it a look if you get a chance.
Raw is Bore
My thoughts during the Eugene/Christy segment early in the show: "This 'mentally-challenged' gimmick is one of the worst ever. And Eugene's pretty annoying, too."
Anyone who says this is a relaxing game deserves to burn in hell for all eternity
I practised two kinds of driving today. I suppose that, in the big scheme of things, if I could only do well at one of them, it's for the best that it was the kind involving a motor vehicle. But that doesn't make me feel any better about my golfing.
Today's trip to the driving range set my game back 20 years. I know this, because I was hitting the ball like a fucking four year old. It was far and away the worst I've ever swung, and I've always been bad. So, boring story short, I've decided to re-learn how to golf from scratch. I might try out my dad's Natural Golf tapes, or maybe I'll stick with the traditional, but whatever I do, I need serious help.
Gentleman Only, Ladies Forbidden
Trekked out to Golden West this morning to play on a real golf course for the first time ever, and I'd say I did alright. To put my performance into perspective: in the first round of the Buick Open this weekend, eventual champion Vijay Singh shot an impressive 65—but it took him 18 holes to get there! I, being awesome, only needed nine holes.
Praise Jesue!
Spotted on a directory at a strip mall near my place: "CHURCH OF JESUE CHRIST OF LDS"
The weird part is that it's been that way for approximately ever.
