A golfing hustle, interrupted
One recent sunny day I’m standing on the 1st tee with my buddy Fred, who is just getting back into the game after a layoff (see kids) when suddenly our country club pro approaches us. I can sense a con coming on, just based on the rye look on his face.
“Say Fred,” he says. “Have you ever considered cocking your wrists during the backswing?”
And Bill shows Fred what he’s talking about with a perfect ghost swing.
“Uh, hey Bill! No, I’ve never…wait. What?” Fred is suddenly locked up and confused. So Bill pounces, grabs Fred’s driver and shows him again what it should look like. Then he gives the driver back and Fred makes 30 practice swings, cocking his wrists until the shaft bounces off his left shoulder. I say nothing.
“Hit a few!” says Bill. And so Fred hits a few drives down the 1st hole, poorly.
“You’ll get it! Can you feel the extra power?”
“Oh yeah man,” says Fred, as he scrambles for more balls to launch into the rough.
“Just keep practicing that and we’ll talk later!” says Bill, and leaves. Fred looks at me and I laugh.
“Are you ready for this quick nassau?” I ask, and Fred snaps back into shape, suddenly remembering he wanted to play a match, and puts the handful of balls back in his bag.
By the third hole he can’t hit it ten feet. He has lost his way completely and it is painful to watch. The match is over.
“What the fuck bro?” he asks.
“You feel like you need to go get a lesson from Bill right away, huh? Like you need to figure out this wrist cock thing?”
“Totally. I can’t even hit the damn ball right now. Last week…” And his voice trails off.
“Dude, I am sorry to tell you this, but you are about to fall for the oldest trick in the old club pro’s book.”
“You mean?” And he cringes.
LOL! Get that man a drink stat.