167 - Cuddly Toy Impaling…

I’m turning into that which I despise. I’ve gone out and bought myself one of those novelty driver head covers. I feel a twat to be honest, not because I’ve bought a cuddly toy I intend to shove my 460cc Mizuno driver up but because I like it (the cover not the stuffed animal bestiality you understand).

Now I know that a lot of the pros have cute animal head covers, most notably Tiger Woods, but it just doesn’t seem right when I see muni-hackers with a brightly coloured parrot in their bag, impaled by a Callaway Diablo driver. Despite this I couldn’t resist getting myself a cute-as-a-button Kangaroo.

My little logo (which I’m very proud of incidentally) is a blue kangaroo so I hit the Internet hard to see if there were any companies that produced kangaroo head covers in the correct hue – bit of a long shot but if you don’t check you’ll never know. Now I know, they don’t make them.

After some research I found that the number one company for creating novelty head covers is Daphne’s “Cover Your Driver Before It Knows What Hit It” – nice. They are responsible for the cute Tiger covering Eldrick’s Nike VR Tour Driver once he has stopped smashing it into the turf after another wayward shot.

I searched their site and found that they do indeed make a kangaroo! Unfortunately it is the wrong colour for me but they can do custom orders so my luck could still be in. I emailed them via their temperamental web form asking if I could order a slightly modified kangaroo and waited for their response.

There was good news and bad news in the sugar coated reply I received from Lori at Daphne’s. Yes they could knock out a little blue roo for me but as it was deemed to be a custom design there was a minimum order requirement of 500 units.

There are a couple of problems with ordering 500 blue kangaroo’s namely I don’t actually need 500 and at £7,500 it is a bit on the expensive side.

With the custom order option removed I went for a regular kangaroo from Daphne’s, magnificent in it’s brown and creamness (above). I’m now officially a part of twatdom where muni-hackers wander around with stuffed animals on their clubs and do you know what, I don’t give a shit.

81 - 3, That's The Magic Number...

The problems I have been having with my driving have had me thinking – a lot. I’ve decided to use my MX-560 driver only on the range until I can wrestle a bit of accuracy out of it and am therefore forced to tee off with my hybrid for now. Not a perfect solution but the best I can come up with…or is it?

As normal when I have a problem in golf I obsess over it and hit the Internet and magazines hard! It seems that the best thing to do when your drives are wild is to simply use a different club. A few sites suggest the new fangled hybrids as they make hitting the ball long and straight a lot easier – something I can vouch for after using my £10 Howson on the driving range for a year.

Other less progressive sites suggest moving down the clubs and claim that a 3 wood will deliver most of the distance of a driver with the advantage of not being as difficult to control. Right, I’ll use my 3 wood from now on then…when it arrives. Oh yeah, I haven’t got one yet but it is on it’s way.

Continuing my obsession with Mizuno, I had a look around to see what was on offer from the Japanese golf wizards and found that they have just released the MX-700 Hot Metal wood. Fantastic reviews, as sexy as Scarlett Johansson (left) but a bit too pricey for me, even on eBay. I needed a quality alternative.

The MX-700 replaces the F-60, which was Mizuno’s darling of the tee/fairway until earlier this year. Logic dictates that, as there is a new, shiny club on the market the price of the old one should drop. Erm, no, it seems that being a decent piece of kit the price of the F-60 has stayed high (in fact it costs the same as the new MX-700 on some websites) so it was still too pricey.

Another dip into he murky world of eBay revealed yet more expensive clubs but also thrown into the mix were some second hand woods of varying quality. I made an offer of £30 for a slightly battered 3 wood that was going for £50 plus delivery. The seller rejected my offer and did me a favour in hindsight as the club looked abused and came without a head cover.

I was about to give up when I spotted a little cracker. A barely used F-60 with a stiff graphite shaft complete with a head cover going for just £35. I was tempted enough to put a maximum bid of £40 in to test the water. It was sufficient to win so I’m now the proud owner of a Mizuno F-60 3 wood.

I’m expecting good things from this club. I’m hoping for the distance of my MX-560 driver and the accuracy of my cheap Howson hybrid but I’ll bet anything that I just end up with another club that infuriates me to the point of expletives. I'll keep you informed.

79 - The Big Dawg...

I’ve decided to buy a whole set of Mizuno clubs and I looked on with interest as the price of their MX-560 driver fell over the last few months. Originally it cost £300 but I found it at a number of online retailers for a lot less than that which tempted me more and more and in the end I took the plunge and bought it for just £78 delivered – an absolute bargain I reckon.

Looking through the magazines the reviewers love the MX-560. They praise it for being long and straight off the tee as well as mentioning over and over how easy it is to hit well. The only negative point is the noise it makes when you make a good connection – apparently it makes a really loud, high pitched ‘ting’ off the tee.

I read an article in Golf Whine Monthly about how certain drivers are so loud when they make a good connection that they can actually damage your hearing. Yeah right, a load of hysterical Daily Mail-esque bobbins I thought…until I tried my shiny, new driver at the range and ended up with a ringing in my ear like I’d been at the front of a music festival for three days.

A couple of half power warm up shots saw the ball fire off the club face into the driving range with a satisfying ping, no sign of the dreaded, deafness inducing racket reported. Safe in the knowledge that there was nothing to worry about I smashed the living daylights out of the ball and then had the ‘pleasure’ of having my eardrums almost explode from the metallic whine that came from the club head.

I now understand what the reviewers were talking about when they complained about the noise. It seems, in the confined space of the driving range bay, the problem is literally amplified making each shot a painful experience (and not just because my hideous slice is so bad that I’m debating teeing off at a 45* angle to the left of the fairway in the vain hope of taking my second shot from somewhere other than the rough).

Sound apart, the club is fantastic. The head looks massive at address but comparing it to other drivers it is about average size wise. I know that it shouldn’t really matter what a club looks like but I’m as shallow as a pygmy’s paddling pool so aesthetics are a big factor in whether I buy a bat or not. Thankfully the MX-560 is a hansom brute, finished in metallic navy blue (above) with a funky polished silver sole. The head cover is good too, more blue which I approve of…

It is one of the easiest woods I have used although my experience is a little limited if I’m being honest having only swung a handful of drivers in my short and frustration filled golfing career. The size of the head, coupled with the flexible shaft option fitted means that big, lazy swings produce an impressive amount of height and distance. With a bit of concentration I could even get the ball to fly almost straight on occasions!

Overall I’m impressed with the ‘Big Dawg’ and once I learn how to stop my tee shots from turning right off the face I think it will be a valuable weapon in my ongoing war with the game of golf.

45 - Practice Makes Permanently Shit...

As I’m getting some free lessons from a genuine golf pro I thought it only fitting to practice my bad habits fully so he can show me where I’m going wrong (I know, I’m a giver). There was only one thing for it, a trip to the trust driving range. A couple of texts later and Alan was in. After goading Lucky, he decided to come too in an attempt to teach me a lesson or summat.

It is fair to say that after a lack of golf for a few weeks I was rustier than Christopher Reeves auld wheelchair. I couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with a banjo. ‘Arthur’ was all over the place with me managing to hook the shit out of the ball and slice it widely with annoying regularity. Thankfully ‘Dougie’ Howson was as reliable as a Volkswagen. Shot after creamy shot flew long and straight into the freezing night air.

It took me a good 15 balls to hit one good shot with ‘Fivey’ which had me more worried than usual. I could spot some obvious mistakes like slicing the ball a few feet away because I was standing too close to it but other mistakes had me baffled. Why am I finding it SO hard to hit the ball in the sweet spot? Why to I almost break my fingers with another shot off the toe or rattle my fillings out as the heel cracks the ball. I changed everything I could but was still all over the place.

I had a bit more joy with ‘Mac’ the Knife 56* wedge. I showed Lucky’s lad how to chip the ball high with the wedge but then couldn’t do the shot myself. After a few minor adjustments I was back on track, firing balls 20 feet down the range covered in snow (not literally you understand – as soon as it starts snowing I will be making snowballs to throw at the North Face wearing scalls who litter our streets – ahem).

After the warm up me, Alan and Lucky started the Blue & Yellow Basket Challenge. We were all over the place at first but Alan was the first to find his range as he peppered the baskets with crappy yellow golf balls. Soon after, Lucky got his act together and missed the target by inches a few times to howls of derision from the stocky ball of fury. I never got close. At all.

Eventually Alan bingoed ‘Big Yeller’ to win the long game but we all failed to chip into the blue basket despite it being within pissing distance (if I would have had a full bladder after a few pints obviously). I came away from the range happy to have smacked a few balls and met my mates but nervous about how crap I have gone. The pro is going to have his work cut out…

29 - Not Quite A Wood, Not Really An Iron...

As it was pissing down with rain last night with the wind was howling like something out of a horror movie it was obvious that my mind would turn to an hour at the driving range. There is nothing better than spanking a yellow range ball out into the night with sheets of rain racing across the field giving you absolutely no control over your shots. That is the best way to practice in my opinion (and I’m drawing upon almost six weeks of experience here boys and girls).

I sent out a text to Alan, Lucky and Richie to see which brave souls would endure personal suffering in the pursuit of excellence. The response wasn’t great to be honest. Lucky was watching his brood and Richie would rather sit on his armchair and watch Liverpool (like the vast majority of their ‘fans’ it seems). Alan simply replied with the word ‘Roger’. He is a man among men if you ask me.

Before meeting Alan I had to pop out and pick up my latest internet purchase; my new £10 Howson Comp Plus Hybrid. First impressions were good. It looked the part (from others have seen) and was suitably shiny. The head was smaller than I was expecting but after thinking about it I came to the conclusion that I didn’t know one end of a hybrid club from another so my expectations were not based on anything so I should just get a grip.

I rocked up late at Aintree and had to wait for a bay. Actually, seeing as the Ryder Cup is now a distant memory to the gobshites who dusted down the clubs the other week for a whack, there was almost horizontal sheet rain sweeping across the range and it was after 8pm I had the choice of any bay I wanted with the exception of three – and one of those was occupied by Alan. Where are all the irritating, chain smoking Spanish bastards now eh? (Click here if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Alan had a look at my new weapon of score distruction and tried it out. He quickly commented that you don’t have to put much effort in to get some decent distance from it. I watched as he sliced shot after shot off towards the right-hand fence knowing that it was simply because he wasn’t used to the club…unfortunately, neither was I. Alan’s slice was a manageable, progressive wander out to the right whereas mine was a full blown 90* turn off the Astroturf. Hmmm, this might not be the bargain I thought.

I started my drills with ‘Arthur’. So often my saviour at Kirkby last week it seemed the magic had gone. I was back to sending the ball all the way out to the right. It would be fair to say that I was rustier than Prince Harry’s bollocks. After a few wasted balls I started to get back into it and finally began hitting it straight and long. Alan asked me how ‘Arthur’ was and I demonstrated my ability to pick out a target up the middle of the range and hit it by slicing the ball into a corner. Typical.

Next it was ‘Fivey’ and another round of the Yellow Basket Challenge! Alan went first and got close before waiting for me to try. The last time we played this game was the night where I couldn’t hit the ball never mind hit it straight so Alan was full of advice and encouragement. I didn’t need it as I sent a perfectly on target ball hurtling towards the basket. It didn’t go in but got close enough to show I meant business and that I had overcome my mid-iron demons.

After peppering the basket with balls I made the mistake of saying “As you might have noticed Al, I’ve changed my swing a bit to help me hit the ball more cleanly and more accurately.” With that I completely fucked my shot up leaving Alan to say something like “yeah, it is much better now!” It is always the way isn’t it? They call it the commentators curse on the telly…

After about 10 minutes it was obvious no-one was going to get it in so I had a couple of cracks with the hybrid. This time, after I’d loosened up, I was much improved. Off the small tee I was still slicing the ball but nowhere near as bad but it was off the floor I was impressed with. I’m not sure if the club is designed to do it but I was able to fire the ball off into the wind and rain at a shallow angle meaning it ran and ran – even in the uncut grass at the range. That could be useful.

I finished the night with a mini game of the Blue Basket Challenge. I mentioned in another post that my chipping was atrocious at Kirkby the other week so I’m keen to spend some time practicing. I realised late on in that round what I was doing wrong and corrected it so hopefully it is just a case of remembering the lesson and putting in the hours. Wish me luck.

19 - Golf Trinket...

Yesterday I had a choice. Go shopping with my better half and her mum for food or wander around JJB Sport drooling over golf porn. So I was standing there, surrounded by all manner of putters, wedges, drivers and clubs wondering again if there really is THAT much difference between the different makes and models? I can see that if you are good slight differences might help hone your game but for clowns like me does it matter?

I did finally get to see that Titleist Vokey wedge I was talking about the other week. As I thought, it is stunning (well I think so anyway). If you have seen one you will know that they have what Titleist describe as an ‘oil can finish’ which is a fancy way of saying it is like a bronze colour. As the club is used the coating starts to get worn away and the face starts to rust. This is deliberate as the rust makes the face rougher and helps the ball spin more thus giving more control. Genius. Personally I’m getting one because it looks good.

There were a couple on display in JJB, one that was brand new and one that had been swung a few times. The second one was starting to rust and looked even funkier than the pristine version. They cost £80 though which is a lot for what could end up a fashion accessory so I had to get some sensible advice.

“If you can’t hit a 9 iron properly what is the point in buying a lob wedge?” Richie’s advice wasn’t quite what I wanted to hear. He explained that I should only buy one if it is needed to improve my game and that buying one because it looks good is “fucking stupid”. Pah, what does he know?! In the end he said I could borrow his 60* wedge to see if it made any difference.

Try before you buy sounded tempting but not as tempting as the cheeky little 56* wedge I spotted on the rack. The wedge was made by a company called Knife and was available for a very reasonable £10. Even Richie was happy. Spending a tenner on a club I would discard after two weeks is a lot better than wasting £80 on a ‘golf trinket’. I was sold.

Richie said I should buy one of those golf ball tubes and spend a couple of hours on a field practicing my chipping to see if it was worth splurging on the Titleist. He even said he would give me a load of old golfy's to use and help me learn how to hit the ball properly. I must say that both Richie and Alan have been brilliant with advice and help since I took up this ridiculously difficult sport, I like to think I’m giving something back with the constant mentions in this soon to be award winning blog!!! ;)

I left JJB with a shiny new wedge, a golf ball tube and a new glove (I inherited a couple from Alan with my set but there is nothing like your own, is there?) When we got back to my better half’s mums she had a present for me in the shape of two dozen Dunlop Loco golf balls. Perfect, they went into my tube and I was ready to go. All I need now is for it to stop bastard raining.

04 - Witchcraft...

Another trip to the range with Lucky followed but my improvement started to stutter. I found myself making the same mistakes as I did the first time I tried to play. I needed more help from someone who knew what they were doing. Enter Richie.

Richie is a good player who has been captain of the golf society he plays for. He told me recently that golf for him has gone from a pastime to an obsession. He is always playing, always practicing, always looking for ways to improve. I was looking forward to him helping me but also hoping my uselessness wouldn’t rub off on him (like when you rub a magnet on metal and it becomes a bit magnetised – or summat).

Richie started by asking me to hit a few shots so he could see what I was doing. That was a bit intimidating to be honest, I felt like a stripper on her first night in a flange palace – judging eyes studying my body, checking my form, looking for faults, wanting to stick a £5 note in my thong after I’d wiggled my arse in his face. Ahem.

After a couple of shots Richie got me to move my feet slightly and try again. Low and behold the ball skewed off to the right…but not as much! Hallelujah! After a few more surprisingly minor tweaks the ball was starting to go straighter and straighter. It was witchcraft I swear!

While I was sending Exocet like shot after Exocet like shot down the range Richie caught up with a couple of people he used to play with. They were testing new drivers and pissed me right off by smashing the ball 250 yards without any discernable effort. I was concentrating like a bastard and these were laughing and joking and out driving me. Cunts.

Richie told me to ignore them as they had been playing for years and got me back to my drills. Set the ball properly, address the ball, get my hands right, get my feet right, breathe, slowly back, smoothly round, good contact, follow through the shot then bask in the glory of not looking completely useless.

After my lessons I was flying and couldn’t wait to hit the next ball…until I started to tire and the whole thing turned to shit again. Richie could sense I was flagging although I think what tipped him off was me shouting “my arms are fucked” at him in the next bay. He was adamant that the last few balls would be good shots so I would have a positive memory of the night. Sure enough I hit a couple of crackers and waddled off the range as happy as a dog with two dicks.