It’s almost May, and with a turn of the weather we serious golfers get ready for a serious assault on the links. Having been stuck inside for months with cold, nasty conditions forbidding enough to stifle even the most hardy players, we have, for a lack of anything better to do, allowed ourselves to be subjected to endless golf talk. I admit it: I love it. I find no subject more interesting than golf, as absurd as that may seem.
“You know why they call it “love grass”, asked John Whelan, our Irish tour guide? None of the 24 American golfers (6 Middle Atlantic club professionals, including myself, and 3 amateurs we each invited to come along as a team) knew the answer.
You may be wondering (at least those of you with a bent for literature) why I would choose a passage from an English poet when writing about my experience in Scotland. There may be no answer good enough for a Scotsman (who dislike the English to the extreme), but suffice it to say that Wordsworth’s thoughts truly represent the way I feel about my visit there.
Every now and then my students ask me how I got to know what I know. What were my influences? Did I have a teacher who guided me through my career? What books did I read and follow? The answer to the first question is quite simple. My Father showed me how to swing a club and how to play, and helped me along until I could beat him at age 13, beyond which I pretty much did things on my own until after college, when I took the only golf lesson of my life, from David Ledbetter in 1982. As we looked at the video tape of my swing it occurred to me that I could see everything he […]