Golf and I is the story of me trying to avoid anything resembling real exertion.
I started golfing when I joined J.V. Golf in high school to avoid the stigma of Physical Education. Like J.V. Baseball (which provided for me spring’s version of J.V. Golf), J.V. Golf was full of rejects like me who couldn’t golf (or play baseball). In golfing’s case, this pretty much amounted to Mr. Gregory forcing us to pretend at hitting balls up and down a hill, collecting said balls, and ogling at the girls’ field hockey team. Once a week we’d repeat the same procedure on a local public course, minus the girls.
I’m such a geek that it’s wonder I didn’t go through high school ostracized and completely traumatized by the experience. I can only attribute surviving unscathed to having a popular older brother, being small and non-threatening, and my natural good looks. 😉
[Filming my golf swing after the jump.]
Physical education is like Godfather III. Just when you think you’re done with it, they pull you back in. I took up golfing again in college. Again, this was to satisfy the strange athletics requirement that Caltech has. This time, I actually had an instructor who tried to make me read a book on golfing and once filmed my swing. I always knew I sucked, but that video was very instructive at the level of my suckitude.
It should be no wonder that I don’t bother to keep score when I golf. I do love going to the range and pretending that I can hit the ball—it’s a great stress reliever and not so nearly as expensive or tiresome as playing a round. (My father ingrained in me the proper etiquette of walking the entire coarse when playing so I have yet to discover the wonders of the golf cart.)
Home on the range
Today, I went to the driving range and filmed myself golfing for the first time. I couldn’t do this initially because it was real crowded and then I chatted with woman next to me until the sun went down and I could set up my pocket camera (thank you, video mode!). The big lesson I learned from watching the video is I take too much backswing and move my hips too much. Oh yeah, that and I still suck—I just look better doing it:
Speaking of “looking good.” I’d like to thank my brother for the hand-me-down sweater, Mark Jen for the AOL baseball cap I stole from him, and my Dad for the spare spikeless golf shoes, seven wood and driver he gave me.
[more swings] Interesting side note: the built-in mike can’t pick up the high pitch ping that you hear when you strike the ball with a Calloway.
I really should spring for some lessons someday.