Golf Life: The many confessions of a golf club addict

The golf life is a unique one, filled with trials and triumphs, and most of all, the never-ending search for the magic piece of equipment that will unlock our full potential. These are the confessions of a golf club addict.

I’m a golf club addict. I have three golf bags full of clubs in my basement. Golf Galaxy thinks I’m a corporate wholesaler with the number of trade-ins and purchases I’ve made. I firmly believe it’s the arrow, not the Indian. More than a few friends believe I have a problem.

However, I prefer to see myself as a seeker of golf wisdom. For more than 30 years I’ve searched high and low for a 3-wood I can hit from the first cut (or the fairway, let’s be honest) like Galahad pursued the Holy Grail. Yes, I was an early adopter of the Orlimar Tri-Metal. I mean it’s a Jesse Ortiz design, people. The ball wouldn’t dare dribble 14 yards into the thicker rough when struck with that baby. (Wait, there’s a new one?!)

Actually, I’m not being fair to Mr. Ortiz. Notice how all the modern fairways woods now look a lot like the original Tri-Metal? Short and wide face? Weight down and back?

It was bizarre-looking then, but Jesse was a prophet.

I was almost – ALMOST! – seduced by the melodious baritone of Peter Kessler as he waxed poetic about THE PERFECT CLUB. Offset hosel, head of a wood, the loft of a long iron. It sounded so glorious. “It works equally well from the fairway, bunkers, and the rough,” he would purr. Oh, I wish I could hear him recap my salty 84 from last weekend.

But I digress.

The stream of new wonder-clubs continues apace without an end in sight. Can you believe they are starting to reintroduce the Driving Iron again?

But not golf. We believe in magic, and I suppose we always will.

Oh crap. I had a Controller Club once. Who could deny the power of the patented ‘Roll and Bulge’ face design? Yep, I had one. I feel I need to be honest about my addiction. Those were dark days. You have to hit bottom before you can go up again.

Since I started playing, my bag has always resembled the cast of a TV dating show. One in, one out, one back in, one thrown off a cliff to the delight of the others, etc. True love has been found and lost more times than I can count.

Lately, I stock my bag with a combination of proven technology from tour-quality brands but still pack one or two wild cards that secured a promotion to the top 14 based purely on emotional attachment.

Golf is funny that way. In almost every other sport, professionals and serious amateurs stick to the latest and greatest equipment. Rafael Nadal isn’t rolling out at Wimbledon with a Wilson T-3000. Shaun White isn’t going for the gold with his feet strapped to his grandmother’s hickory cutting board.

But not golf. We believe in magic, and I suppose we always will. Sometimes that old putter or rusted wedge just feels right, even if the shaft is dented and the face looks like a badger gnawed on it.

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I play regularly with a guy who carries a 1-handicap index. One; a number I’ll only get to if it’s accompanied with another number. He carries an original Ping Rapture fairway wood. It’s over ten years old. It’s the golfing equivalent of dial-up internet. The paint is chipped, the face looks like a gravel road, and I’m pretty sure the shaft is made of recycled garden hose. Let’s be honest, the club head is probably filled with Hubba Bubba.

I tell him all the time, “You could get another 20 yards with the Rogue or the M4.”

“I don’t need 20 more. This goes exactly as far as I want it to go,” he’ll coolly reply.

“Blasphemy!” I shout as I spray my late-model Titleist 5-wood into an adjacent grade school.

And so it goes. And will continue to go. When he’s on the range, I’m on the internet looking at spin data from the 7-degree Krank Driver. I mean, my swing speed is in the mid-80s. I have a better chance of getting a bladed gap wedge 235 yards down the fairway.

Next. Phil Mickelson bounces back from Ryder Cup at Safeway Open. dark

So like many of you, I’ll keep looking for magic in the most unlikely of places. Global Golf, eBay, 2nd Swing – these are the deserts within which you’ll find me roaming like Bedouin seeking a cool oasis. Except I’m looking for a 1996 TaylorMade bubble shaft 5-wood (in like-new condition) that, at least in my memory, never failed to split the fairway.

It’s tough to shake old love. You always think you can make it work again.

Now, where did I put that Snake Eyes 2-wood?

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