Mors Ab Alto
New Member
- Aug 28, 2006
- 228
- 0
Alright, I decided to take me camcorder out to the course with me the last tie I played. First I set it up on the range as I warmed up. Then I had a buddy film me while I was hitting full shots on the course. The course was pretty much empty, so we didn't hold anybody up (he brought his too). This was something we had always talked about but never got around to.
Anyway, when I got home, I was excited to see my swing, especially since I had been "working on my game" for a few weeks to improve my irons and had hit some really good shots that day. Just so everyone knows, this was done in the name of science, and not out of narcissism.
But what I saw was essentially a stranger wearing my clothes, playing with my clubs, and using my voice to make dorky remarks. I couldn't believe my swing looked like that (imagine if John Daly's and Jim Furyk's swings had a baby, and the baby had vertigo). Well, I was depressed to say the least. In my mind's eye I had a fairly text book swing, on plane with nice tempo, but on film I was, to quote David Feherty, "like an ostrich trying to open an umbrella in a phone booth."
Well, a few days have passed, and I have come to accept that I may never have a "nice" swing, but that's okay. For every Adam Scott and Sergio Garcia there is a Jim Furyk or Lee Trevino. So hackers of the world, embrace your chicken wings and flying elbows, so long as they get the job done.
Anyway, when I got home, I was excited to see my swing, especially since I had been "working on my game" for a few weeks to improve my irons and had hit some really good shots that day. Just so everyone knows, this was done in the name of science, and not out of narcissism.
But what I saw was essentially a stranger wearing my clothes, playing with my clubs, and using my voice to make dorky remarks. I couldn't believe my swing looked like that (imagine if John Daly's and Jim Furyk's swings had a baby, and the baby had vertigo). Well, I was depressed to say the least. In my mind's eye I had a fairly text book swing, on plane with nice tempo, but on film I was, to quote David Feherty, "like an ostrich trying to open an umbrella in a phone booth."
Well, a few days have passed, and I have come to accept that I may never have a "nice" swing, but that's okay. For every Adam Scott and Sergio Garcia there is a Jim Furyk or Lee Trevino. So hackers of the world, embrace your chicken wings and flying elbows, so long as they get the job done.