can’t hit the thing worth a damn. However, young Alex Lupica borrows it and knocks the ball a mile, straight and true. He is also sixteen years old, an age at which all things are possible.
The next afternoon, Lupica loans me a freaky blue Ping putter, which works pretty well for nine holes. When we’re done, Lupica insists that I drive one ball off the 10th tee with his beloved G5. To our mutual astonishment, I crush it 272 yards, according to the markers on the fairway sprinklers. Now I’m completely confused. Should I add a Ping driver to my growing collection?
Late the following afternoon, we head out for one last masochistic nine at Noyac. This time we’re joined by Mike’s eldest son, Chris, who has the ideal outlook for golf—it’s all comedy, so why take it seriously? I scrape out a 44, which isn’t bad.
Afterwards, in the pro shop, we watch Tiger Woods sink a birdie to win the Buick Open with his fourth straight 66. Of all people, Rudy Giuliani walks in the door and snaps at his playing partner, who’s glued to the television.
The former New York mayor is a new member at Noyac, and will soon be running for president of the United States. The arduous campaign is not likely to improve his handicap index, currently hovering around 18.
Outside, in the parking lot, we spy Giuliani’s jet-black Escalade, the driver catching some Zs while his boss tackles the back nine. Before zipping my clubs into the travel bag, I present the fade-weighted Fusion to Alex Lupica. His dad hands me the blue Ping putter, and we call it even.
Later, in the shower, I check myself for ticks.
Day 363
Back in the familiar confines of Quail Valley, I par five out of the first six holes. Then I pull my usual crash-and-burn on the back nine, carding big fat 7s on No. 10, No. 17 and No. 18.
I finish with a lackluster 91, the toll including four dispiriting three-putts. The blue Ping let me down, or perhaps it’s the other way around.
Still no sign of the Mind Drive pills in the mail, but Feherty has generously express-shipped another Speed Cobra driver, this one lofted at 9.0 degrees.
At this point I’d be willing to try a slingshot.
Day 364
Ominously, clouds of turkey buzzards have appeared at Quail Valley and the air is ripe with death. Because of the extreme summer heat, some of the jumbo carp and tilapia have floated up dead in the lakes, attracting hungry vultures from as far away as downtown Orlando. It’s a good day to aim clear of the water.
I shoot 46–44 with eight pars (including the tough 17th), two triples and three doubles. I’d been cruising toward breaking 90 when I was once again slaughtered by No. 18—four-putting the cruelly tiered green for another closing 7.
Overall, though, it wasn’t a horrific day. Except for that last hole, the Ping putter performed honorably. I also drove the 9.0 Cobra fairly well, so I make a note to call Feherty and thank him.
Day 365
Steve Archer says I’m tilting left on my setup, which can cause, among other disasters, a hard pull. At the end of the lesson he also suggests that I test-drive a Nike SasQuatch 10.5, which looks like a deformed eggplant. I swing it once and smash the ball out of sight, which is scary.
Should I stick with the new Cobra or not? If only I had some Mind Drive pills to help me decide.
Later, on an impulse, I pick up the phone and order a device called the Momentus Swing Trainer that’s being advertised on the Golf Channel. According to Fred Funk, it will forever groove my swing.
We shall see.
The Anniversary Stomp
E xactly one year after I purchased those secondhand Nicklaus clubs, my transformation was disturbing.
I owned two pairs of golf shoes and a half-dozen vivid shirts in which I wouldn’t have been caught dead twelve months ago. I had four drivers of varying lofts, weight distributions and shaft flexibility, and I couldn’t hit any of them the same way twice. I was trying out a flashy new putter that I was concealing from my
The next afternoon, Lupica loans me a freaky blue Ping putter, which works pretty well for nine holes. When we’re done, Lupica insists that I drive one ball off the 10th tee with his beloved G5. To our mutual astonishment, I crush it 272 yards, according to the markers on the fairway sprinklers. Now I’m completely confused. Should I add a Ping driver to my growing collection?
Late the following afternoon, we head out for one last masochistic nine at Noyac. This time we’re joined by Mike’s eldest son, Chris, who has the ideal outlook for golf—it’s all comedy, so why take it seriously? I scrape out a 44, which isn’t bad.
Afterwards, in the pro shop, we watch Tiger Woods sink a birdie to win the Buick Open with his fourth straight 66. Of all people, Rudy Giuliani walks in the door and snaps at his playing partner, who’s glued to the television.
The former New York mayor is a new member at Noyac, and will soon be running for president of the United States. The arduous campaign is not likely to improve his handicap index, currently hovering around 18.
Outside, in the parking lot, we spy Giuliani’s jet-black Escalade, the driver catching some Zs while his boss tackles the back nine. Before zipping my clubs into the travel bag, I present the fade-weighted Fusion to Alex Lupica. His dad hands me the blue Ping putter, and we call it even.
Later, in the shower, I check myself for ticks.
Day 363
Back in the familiar confines of Quail Valley, I par five out of the first six holes. Then I pull my usual crash-and-burn on the back nine, carding big fat 7s on No. 10, No. 17 and No. 18.
I finish with a lackluster 91, the toll including four dispiriting three-putts. The blue Ping let me down, or perhaps it’s the other way around.
Still no sign of the Mind Drive pills in the mail, but Feherty has generously express-shipped another Speed Cobra driver, this one lofted at 9.0 degrees.
At this point I’d be willing to try a slingshot.
Day 364
Ominously, clouds of turkey buzzards have appeared at Quail Valley and the air is ripe with death. Because of the extreme summer heat, some of the jumbo carp and tilapia have floated up dead in the lakes, attracting hungry vultures from as far away as downtown Orlando. It’s a good day to aim clear of the water.
I shoot 46–44 with eight pars (including the tough 17th), two triples and three doubles. I’d been cruising toward breaking 90 when I was once again slaughtered by No. 18—four-putting the cruelly tiered green for another closing 7.
Overall, though, it wasn’t a horrific day. Except for that last hole, the Ping putter performed honorably. I also drove the 9.0 Cobra fairly well, so I make a note to call Feherty and thank him.
Day 365
Steve Archer says I’m tilting left on my setup, which can cause, among other disasters, a hard pull. At the end of the lesson he also suggests that I test-drive a Nike SasQuatch 10.5, which looks like a deformed eggplant. I swing it once and smash the ball out of sight, which is scary.
Should I stick with the new Cobra or not? If only I had some Mind Drive pills to help me decide.
Later, on an impulse, I pick up the phone and order a device called the Momentus Swing Trainer that’s being advertised on the Golf Channel. According to Fred Funk, it will forever groove my swing.
We shall see.
The Anniversary Stomp
E xactly one year after I purchased those secondhand Nicklaus clubs, my transformation was disturbing.
I owned two pairs of golf shoes and a half-dozen vivid shirts in which I wouldn’t have been caught dead twelve months ago. I had four drivers of varying lofts, weight distributions and shaft flexibility, and I couldn’t hit any of them the same way twice. I was trying out a flashy new putter that I was concealing from my
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