Golfers who’ve been used to taking a few golf trips each winter may have to cut back on the expense this year. If so, there is a greater need than ever to get back in good fundamental positions when spring arrives and golf season starts back up. I spent a long, snowy winter in Switzerland years ago, and the way I kept my swing together was to get in front of the mirror and work on a few select positions.
You can check your reflection to see that you’re bending from the hips, and the shoulders are vertically above the hips and knees. If you’re not sure just how it should look, lay some instruction books or magazines on a table and refer to them. You should take the club back until the shaft is parallel to the floor and check that the clubface is vertical. This will also give you a read on how much stretching you need to do—if you see the hips or shoulders stopping short of the ideal position simply due to stiffness. When it’s time to start hitting balls, you just take your position checks out there and redo them over the ball. (If your club has a practice-range mirror, so much the better.) Feeling loose and swinging free is a nice idea, but not if your body angles are all over the place. Make sure you are at a sound, fundamental position on your backswing, then reward yourself by making a free, flowing move back through the golf ball. But get a few key positions right first.
2013年9月22日星期日
My Favorite Hole: Billy Crudup
I think about the eighth at Bayonne a lot. I’ve had one birdie there and probably eight hundred triple-bogeys. Many things can happen on that hole, and it invariably makes or breaks my round. It’s a long par five. The fairway is pretty wide open but, like almost all the drives at Bayonne, the shot is blind. Usually the second shot on a par five is just a nice easy layup, but on this hole it’s one of the most intimidating shots I’ve ever played. The landing area slopes pretty strongly from right to left and your stance goes that way, too. Everything’s pulling you to the left, and left is dead, in the marsh. All you tell yourself is, “Don’t pull it left,” and of course that’s what you always end up doing. So it takes all this work to get to the green and then you find it’s one of the hardest to putt at Bayonne. It’s big and three-tiered, so it can be difficult to get close to the hole. I love that this hole comes close to the end of the nine, because so many matches change course here.
Golf for me is feast or famine. If I’m working, I never get to play, but if I’m not I have a lot of downtime. I play with two of my friends, and they both have the ability to get home in two on number eight—if they hit good drives. I love it when they go for it because I’ve only seen them hit the green two or three times. If you miss, you’re out of the hole. You’re done. So the eighth never really lets up on you, no matter how you try to play it. It’s really neat that way, and probably the most extreme example of what golf at Bayonne is all about.
Golf for me is feast or famine. If I’m working, I never get to play, but if I’m not I have a lot of downtime. I play with two of my friends, and they both have the ability to get home in two on number eight—if they hit good drives. I love it when they go for it because I’ve only seen them hit the green two or three times. If you miss, you’re out of the hole. You’re done. So the eighth never really lets up on you, no matter how you try to play it. It’s really neat that way, and probably the most extreme example of what golf at Bayonne is all about.
The Record Man
Read and be amazed as average Joe sets course records!
From March 2009 By Jeff Wallach
It’s not every day that a fourteen handicap sets a course record, but on a recent trip to Portugal’s warm, sunny Algarve region, I shot the lowest round ever at Jack Nicklaus’s new Monte Rei Golf & Country Club. The picture of calm, I holed a twelve-footer for birdie on the eighteenth green. My achievement stood until my playing partner, a young assistant pro, two-putted a moment later, lowering the mark from eighty-nine to seventy-three. It wasn’t exactly Al Geiberger posting a fifty-nine on the PGA Tour, but the record was mine—at least until it wasn’t.
While it’s true that most records are made to be broken, mine probably should not have been set in the first place. As a golf journalist I’ve been lucky enough to set several course records simply by being the first player to complete an official eighteen-hole round on layouts that wouldn’t open for months. Several years ago, after playing the Ocean Course at Ginn Hammock Beach in Florida (another Nicklaus course) with my family, Wallachs actually held the men’s, senior’s and women’s records simultaneously. The staff trailed behind our pioneering group with buckets of sand and hand-filled our divots to return the course to its pristine condition so nobody could tell we’d played. Not even Jack had been all the way around the track yet. You just can’t feel too bad when your course record is broken a few weeks later by the Golden Bear himself.
But the experience of playing virgin layouts runs deeper than simply posting a number that holds for a month (or a minute). It’s more about exploring uncharted territory; score is merely the trailhead. If only for a moment, I am the Captain Meriwether Lewis of golf, headed into unexplored terrain with the hope of returning—whole, but possibly changed—to the place I started. And with luck I might, like Lewis himself, have a few adventures en route, encounter friendly natives or indigenous fauna, and come back with a good story or two.
At Monte Rei, for example, which is located in a remote area outside the tiny medieval town of Tavira, local laborers were still putting final touches on underground irrigation and other features of the golf course that would become invisible to the resort guests who came after. Having never seen an actual golfer on the course before, one worker came running toward us on the thirteenth fairway after we’d hammered our tee shots. In his hands, like fragile eggs, were the balls we’d hit—one down the middle and one just off to the left in a bunker. Eager to impress the assistant pro with his energy and initiative, the worker had retrieved our drives so we wouldn’t have to pick them up ourselves. It was a rare entertainment to watch the assistant pro explain to him in Portuguese, with no shortage of hand gestures, that the rules of golf require players to hit those balls again—from exactly where they landed. Which seemed to strike the worker as a dumb way to spend the afternoon.
But such is life on the true frontiers of golf, where divergent cultures first interact. In six months that same worker may long for the days when he wrought a beautiful new landscape out of dirt. He may look with disdain at the heavy trail of golfers pounding endless drives into the fairways he’s manicured, then marching past him to hit again, like the inevitable armies of progress, like manifest destiny in polo shirts.
Last year I had the honor to tee off in the first group ever at Robert Trent Jones II’s Chambers Bay Golf Club outside Tacoma, Washington. I played with Jay Blasi, one of the architects; John Strawn, the CEO of RTJ II at the time; and Tony Tipton, a county executive. In our own ways we’d each plotted to be first to play the course, and so we ended up as a foursome doing it together. The links lay before us, green as unripened fruit.
When we teed off on the first hole, directly toward the blue waters of Puget Sound, I took stock of my competition, perhaps the way Amundsen sized up Scott as they raced to be first to the South Pole. At least one of the others was a better player. I knew I’d probably need to hole out before him on the eighteenth green to claim the course record, even temporarily.
But although I marked scores in my notebook for most of the front nine, nobody else was even keeping track. Sure, we noted the first par (mine) and the first birdie (the architect’s) ever made on the course, and we tallied the progress of our two-man best ball match (the CEO and I beat the architect and the county executive on number eighteen). But keeping score seemed in some way like walking in a beautiful, untrammeled land and wondering how much money subdivided lots might eventually bring. The golf course certainly didn’t care who was first or best among us, or even that we were there at all. And neither, really, would anyone else. On that sunny March day in the Pacific Northwest, with the mountains ringed around us, our particular Corps of Discovery found that in this case, “first” was really just another form of “best,” that such labels just don’t matter, and that a richer experience had occurred for all of us, together, at a deeper level entirely.
From March 2009 By Jeff Wallach
It’s not every day that a fourteen handicap sets a course record, but on a recent trip to Portugal’s warm, sunny Algarve region, I shot the lowest round ever at Jack Nicklaus’s new Monte Rei Golf & Country Club. The picture of calm, I holed a twelve-footer for birdie on the eighteenth green. My achievement stood until my playing partner, a young assistant pro, two-putted a moment later, lowering the mark from eighty-nine to seventy-three. It wasn’t exactly Al Geiberger posting a fifty-nine on the PGA Tour, but the record was mine—at least until it wasn’t.
While it’s true that most records are made to be broken, mine probably should not have been set in the first place. As a golf journalist I’ve been lucky enough to set several course records simply by being the first player to complete an official eighteen-hole round on layouts that wouldn’t open for months. Several years ago, after playing the Ocean Course at Ginn Hammock Beach in Florida (another Nicklaus course) with my family, Wallachs actually held the men’s, senior’s and women’s records simultaneously. The staff trailed behind our pioneering group with buckets of sand and hand-filled our divots to return the course to its pristine condition so nobody could tell we’d played. Not even Jack had been all the way around the track yet. You just can’t feel too bad when your course record is broken a few weeks later by the Golden Bear himself.
But the experience of playing virgin layouts runs deeper than simply posting a number that holds for a month (or a minute). It’s more about exploring uncharted territory; score is merely the trailhead. If only for a moment, I am the Captain Meriwether Lewis of golf, headed into unexplored terrain with the hope of returning—whole, but possibly changed—to the place I started. And with luck I might, like Lewis himself, have a few adventures en route, encounter friendly natives or indigenous fauna, and come back with a good story or two.
At Monte Rei, for example, which is located in a remote area outside the tiny medieval town of Tavira, local laborers were still putting final touches on underground irrigation and other features of the golf course that would become invisible to the resort guests who came after. Having never seen an actual golfer on the course before, one worker came running toward us on the thirteenth fairway after we’d hammered our tee shots. In his hands, like fragile eggs, were the balls we’d hit—one down the middle and one just off to the left in a bunker. Eager to impress the assistant pro with his energy and initiative, the worker had retrieved our drives so we wouldn’t have to pick them up ourselves. It was a rare entertainment to watch the assistant pro explain to him in Portuguese, with no shortage of hand gestures, that the rules of golf require players to hit those balls again—from exactly where they landed. Which seemed to strike the worker as a dumb way to spend the afternoon.
But such is life on the true frontiers of golf, where divergent cultures first interact. In six months that same worker may long for the days when he wrought a beautiful new landscape out of dirt. He may look with disdain at the heavy trail of golfers pounding endless drives into the fairways he’s manicured, then marching past him to hit again, like the inevitable armies of progress, like manifest destiny in polo shirts.
Last year I had the honor to tee off in the first group ever at Robert Trent Jones II’s Chambers Bay Golf Club outside Tacoma, Washington. I played with Jay Blasi, one of the architects; John Strawn, the CEO of RTJ II at the time; and Tony Tipton, a county executive. In our own ways we’d each plotted to be first to play the course, and so we ended up as a foursome doing it together. The links lay before us, green as unripened fruit.
When we teed off on the first hole, directly toward the blue waters of Puget Sound, I took stock of my competition, perhaps the way Amundsen sized up Scott as they raced to be first to the South Pole. At least one of the others was a better player. I knew I’d probably need to hole out before him on the eighteenth green to claim the course record, even temporarily.
But although I marked scores in my notebook for most of the front nine, nobody else was even keeping track. Sure, we noted the first par (mine) and the first birdie (the architect’s) ever made on the course, and we tallied the progress of our two-man best ball match (the CEO and I beat the architect and the county executive on number eighteen). But keeping score seemed in some way like walking in a beautiful, untrammeled land and wondering how much money subdivided lots might eventually bring. The golf course certainly didn’t care who was first or best among us, or even that we were there at all. And neither, really, would anyone else. On that sunny March day in the Pacific Northwest, with the mountains ringed around us, our particular Corps of Discovery found that in this case, “first” was really just another form of “best,” that such labels just don’t matter, and that a richer experience had occurred for all of us, together, at a deeper level entirely.
Reader’s Tee
From March 2009
Conquering the Castle
I recently returned from a fabulous golf trip to Scotland with eight guys, each of whom knew only two or three of the others before our departure. We played Prestwick, Royal Troon, Muirfield, Carnoustie, Kingsbarns, and the Old Course and Castle Course at St. Andrews. Our Castle Course caddies gave us a great tip: On the par-three seventeenth, aim to the right of the bunker on the left, and the ball will roll thirty yards down to the flag. Oh, and I loved the haggis, too!
Fred Doerfler Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Up to the Challenge
In October I was vacationing in Maui and decided to take a boat to Lana‘i to play the Challenge at Manele. I was paired up with two guys who own homes on the island and really know the course, which has spectacular views of the ocean and the perfect crescent beach at the Four Seasons Resort below. I thank John, one of my playing partners, for taking this fantastically timed photo of me on the twelfth tee, which sits atop the island’s cliffs. This shot landed within five feet of the hole!
Douglas Macdonald Los Angeles, California
A Point for Punta Espada
My good friend Steve Simon and I were vacationing in the Dominican Republic when we literally stumbled across this amazing gem. Punta Espada’s eighteen holes of ocean-view golf were truly a delight. Steve and I have been to Pebble Beach and have a tendency to play Top 100 courses when we travel, but Steve has now ranked this number one, ahead of Pebble. We also had a chance to play Teeth of the Dog, Dye Fore and La Cana. What a great trip!
Brian Waller West Des Moines, Iowa
Into Patagonia
A few friends and I traveled to Patagonia in Argentina for a ski and golf trip in September. The powder was fresh in the mountains, but the golf courses were just opening up. We played at the five-star Llao Llao (pronounced “zshao-zshao”) Resort, which is located in Bariloche, and has hosted world dignitaries from Castro to Clinton, who even played there. Incredible views, a Cuban cigar and hitting off the snow all made for a great trip.
Mike Urbanski Orange, California
A Taste of Muirfield
Last spring I took my friends Corey and Derek to play golf in Scotland for the first time. We played Kingsbarns, Royal Troon, Carnoustie, North Berwick and Musselburgh Links, the oldest course on record. We stayed a night at Muirfield, where my friend Robin is a member, and enjoyed the famous lunch between rounds. If you look closely at the photo, you can see Derek’s ball flying out of this bunker on Muirfield’s sixteenth hole and toward the green.
Sam Goldstein Salt Lake City, Utah
A Shelter at Doonbeg
Having started a tradition in 1996 of venturing to the Emerald Isle every other year, our group of Southern California boys had the great pleasure of playing Doonbeg the year it opened, and it’s been on our must-play list ever since. We start planning our next trip as soon as we return, and we all agree Ireland offers the best in golf, people and beer—Guinness, that is! Taking shelter at Doonbeg’s sixth are, from left to right, the Big Easy, Divot, Eagle and the Wine Guy.
Tom “Eagle” Doran Newport Beach, California
When in Wales
In this photo, I am teeing off from the seventeenth hole at Pennard Golf Course in Wales. Pennard is a truly outstanding course, located about an hour from Cardiff. Well-regarded by course architect Tom Doak, the course is set wonderfully into a great landscape and is well worth a visit. The club professional, Mike Bennett, has been at Pennard for more than thirty years, and after visiting, I can certainly understand why. I didn’t want to leave, either.
Conquering the Castle
I recently returned from a fabulous golf trip to Scotland with eight guys, each of whom knew only two or three of the others before our departure. We played Prestwick, Royal Troon, Muirfield, Carnoustie, Kingsbarns, and the Old Course and Castle Course at St. Andrews. Our Castle Course caddies gave us a great tip: On the par-three seventeenth, aim to the right of the bunker on the left, and the ball will roll thirty yards down to the flag. Oh, and I loved the haggis, too!
Fred Doerfler Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Up to the Challenge
In October I was vacationing in Maui and decided to take a boat to Lana‘i to play the Challenge at Manele. I was paired up with two guys who own homes on the island and really know the course, which has spectacular views of the ocean and the perfect crescent beach at the Four Seasons Resort below. I thank John, one of my playing partners, for taking this fantastically timed photo of me on the twelfth tee, which sits atop the island’s cliffs. This shot landed within five feet of the hole!
Douglas Macdonald Los Angeles, California
A Point for Punta Espada
My good friend Steve Simon and I were vacationing in the Dominican Republic when we literally stumbled across this amazing gem. Punta Espada’s eighteen holes of ocean-view golf were truly a delight. Steve and I have been to Pebble Beach and have a tendency to play Top 100 courses when we travel, but Steve has now ranked this number one, ahead of Pebble. We also had a chance to play Teeth of the Dog, Dye Fore and La Cana. What a great trip!
Brian Waller West Des Moines, Iowa
Into Patagonia
A few friends and I traveled to Patagonia in Argentina for a ski and golf trip in September. The powder was fresh in the mountains, but the golf courses were just opening up. We played at the five-star Llao Llao (pronounced “zshao-zshao”) Resort, which is located in Bariloche, and has hosted world dignitaries from Castro to Clinton, who even played there. Incredible views, a Cuban cigar and hitting off the snow all made for a great trip.
Mike Urbanski Orange, California
A Taste of Muirfield
Last spring I took my friends Corey and Derek to play golf in Scotland for the first time. We played Kingsbarns, Royal Troon, Carnoustie, North Berwick and Musselburgh Links, the oldest course on record. We stayed a night at Muirfield, where my friend Robin is a member, and enjoyed the famous lunch between rounds. If you look closely at the photo, you can see Derek’s ball flying out of this bunker on Muirfield’s sixteenth hole and toward the green.
Sam Goldstein Salt Lake City, Utah
A Shelter at Doonbeg
Having started a tradition in 1996 of venturing to the Emerald Isle every other year, our group of Southern California boys had the great pleasure of playing Doonbeg the year it opened, and it’s been on our must-play list ever since. We start planning our next trip as soon as we return, and we all agree Ireland offers the best in golf, people and beer—Guinness, that is! Taking shelter at Doonbeg’s sixth are, from left to right, the Big Easy, Divot, Eagle and the Wine Guy.
Tom “Eagle” Doran Newport Beach, California
When in Wales
In this photo, I am teeing off from the seventeenth hole at Pennard Golf Course in Wales. Pennard is a truly outstanding course, located about an hour from Cardiff. Well-regarded by course architect Tom Doak, the course is set wonderfully into a great landscape and is well worth a visit. The club professional, Mike Bennett, has been at Pennard for more than thirty years, and after visiting, I can certainly understand why. I didn’t want to leave, either.
2013年9月20日星期五
Scott focused on making case for POY selection
Adam Scott at the 2013 Tour Championship
ATLANTA – On this the FedEx Cup math is refreshingly straightforward, if one of the top 5 players on the playoff point list wins this week’s Tour Championship they cash $11.4 million in cash and deferred prizes.
Yet when Adam Scott walked off East Lake Thursday afternoon just one stroke off the lead held by Henrik Stenson he didn’t seem interested in oversized checks or the algorithms of playoff points. If anything has the Australian looking beyond Friday’s opening tee shot it is what a win this week would mean in the voting for PGA Tour Player of the Year.
Tour Championship: Articles, videos and photos
Some Tour types have opined that if Scott or Phil Mickelson win the FedEx Cup it would push them past Tiger Woods in player of the year voting. It’s a concept that hasn’t escaped Scott.
“There haven't been too many guys who have been in the position the last 12 years to even warrant thinking about it,” said Scott, who began the finale third in points. “So it's an opportunity that might not come along too often. I'm going to be working hard to try and make my case for it for sure.”
ATLANTA – On this the FedEx Cup math is refreshingly straightforward, if one of the top 5 players on the playoff point list wins this week’s Tour Championship they cash $11.4 million in cash and deferred prizes.
Yet when Adam Scott walked off East Lake Thursday afternoon just one stroke off the lead held by Henrik Stenson he didn’t seem interested in oversized checks or the algorithms of playoff points. If anything has the Australian looking beyond Friday’s opening tee shot it is what a win this week would mean in the voting for PGA Tour Player of the Year.
Tour Championship: Articles, videos and photos
Some Tour types have opined that if Scott or Phil Mickelson win the FedEx Cup it would push them past Tiger Woods in player of the year voting. It’s a concept that hasn’t escaped Scott.
“There haven't been too many guys who have been in the position the last 12 years to even warrant thinking about it,” said Scott, who began the finale third in points. “So it's an opportunity that might not come along too often. I'm going to be working hard to try and make my case for it for sure.”
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