When I last left you, I had just finished my first golf lesson, and was pumped up and ready to continue my quest to learn golf. John Hafera, the PGA Professional with whom I’m taking lessons at the Waters Landing Golf Park in Germantown, suggested after our last lesson that I work on swinging the club, sans ball. I tried not to take that the wrong way – sure it was standard advice for a beginner, and not an implication that I was a threat to myself or others.
I headed out to the backyard and went through my swing, which surely must have stirred my neighbors into thinking I had mistakenly eaten a strange mushroom while gardening.
I thought things were going well, until the yard began to look like someone had driven through it with a bulldozer. When my wife got home and inquired about it, I told her the only thing that seemed logical: some teenagers must’ve been joyriding, and driven through it last night – they really tore up that lawn!
I headed to the driving range, where I made my first observation: the driving range is a lot like a gym, in that you start to recognize people by their strengths and weaknesses.
At the gym, you look over and see the guy who always lifts so much he might as well be lifting your car – his arms alone are as big as your tires.
At the driving range, there’s the guy I take only quick glances of, admiring the impressive swoosh of his ball as it travels a distance so far, I’d need binoculars to see it.
Then, at the gym, there’s always the one guy who runs around from machine to machine as quickly as he can, as if he’s vying for the record of world’s fastest workout. Everyone stays out of his way, until he drops his weights to the floor and all attention is completely fixed on him.
Similarly, I’ve discovered a way to get sixty people on the range to stop what they’re doing and look my way – by hitting a shot that ricochets off the dividers in between players.
Then, you have other similar types: the guy who stretches for six hours before lifting a weight or hitting a ball; the guy who sweats so much you’re afraid he’s going to pass out; and my favorite, the advisor, who takes it upon himself to assist you (unasked), by showing you everything he knows about golf.
Last, but not least, you have the “unique dresser,” the guy who wears the black socks to the gym or range, or worse, a dress shirt – looking like they lost their luggage at the airport before arriving at the driving range for a workout they couldn’t miss.
It was finally time for lesson #2, and I was ready to go. I had watched the videotape of my swing, given to me by John. While I thought the tape was the greatest, apparently it’s not the kind of thing you invite family and friends over to watch. What was neat, though, was that John’s comments were right on the tape as well, indicating what areas of my swing I would need to work on.
This time, we worked on gripping the club, and I took a few swings. What a difference! Not only was I finally hitting the ball, but it felt great. John then tried to get me to relax and let the swing come naturally, and it worked. We then sat down and compared the first and second weeks’ lessons, and I was even more motivated to continue.
I’ve got another week before my third lesson, and I intend to practice and see how much progress I can make. This week, I’m anxious to head to the range and confident I will not be the guy who brings the place to a standstill as he shanks the balls into the barrier.
Maybe, though, I’ll show up in black socks… just for fun.
The Quest to Learn Golf – to be continued.
