If I coulda hit anything off of the tee today, I woulda broken into the 80's for the first time ever at golf.

45 and 45 with basically nothing but a rockin' short game. I'll take it, but man, I wish I coulda gotten off the tee.

Tiger Warlord?

Coffee Woods?

If I coulda hit anything off of the tee today, I woulda broken into the 80's for the first time ever at golf.

Holy shit, I didn't know Stephen Ames posted here!

Tiger Warlord?

Coffee Woods?

Nah, I'm left handed. Coffee Mickelson.

Golf frustrates me as well...match my best round ever with an 82 on Tuesday and then the very next day I put up a 95. ARGH!!!

I played today and beat both my son's in the same round for the first time, IF I could have putted worth a darn I would have broken 50(only played 9 due to the heat). My tee shots were great all day.

I love playing golf, but my best round is probably in the triple digits somewhere. A good walk spoiled, or whatever.

I remember the first time I shot under 90: It was at a shitty course, but it felt great. I shoot in the 70's on occasion now, and it still doesn't feel as good as it did when I shot that 88.

I've played 5 times. If I can hit the ball on the first try I consider it a win.

I don't golf enough - a group of my buddies always play but I usually decline because I'm so bad compared to them.

Also, it really is an expensive sport.

I feel your pain. For about 8 years, I couldn't get off the tee to save my life. I generally shot about a 93-95, based entirely on iron play and my work around the greens. I took lessons, read Golf Digest ad nauseum -- basically tried anything and everything.

Then, while playing with my father in February, we got paired with one guy who could really play. At the turn, I mentioned to my dad that I thought the guy was even on the round, but pop said he was actually one under. It turns out the guy won the US Amateur back in the 70s and could still bring it.

Anyway, on 17 he turns to me and says, "You know, you'll be a lot better if you just turn your shoulders when you're driving." It was like a light turned on. I played a tough course in Vegas and shot an 86, which felt great. I don't play enough to actually be good, but it is nice to have my manhood back on the tee.

So... I've never golfed and want to go before summer ends here. And tips?

I love playing golf, but my best round is probably in the triple digits somewhere. A good walk spoiled, or whatever.

+1, the worst mistake a golfer can make is to keep score.

So... I've never golfed and want to go before summer ends here. And tips?

The critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip. Which the hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the little finger. Lowly and slowly the clubhead is led back. Pulled into position not by the hands, but by the body which turns away from the target shifting weight to the right side without shifting balance. Tempo is everything; perfection unobtainable as the body coils down at the top of the swing. Theres a slight hesitation. A little nod to the gods.

That he is fallible. That perfection is unobtainable. And now the weight begins shifting back to the left pulled by the powers inside the earth. It's alive, this swing! A living sculpture and down through contact, always down, striking the ball crisply, with character. A tuning fork goes off in your heart and your balls. Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot. Now the follow through to finish. Always on line. The reverse C of the Golden Bear! The steel workers' power and brawn of Carl Sandburg's. Arnold Palmer! End the unfinished symphony of Roy McAvoy.

So... I've never golfed and want to go before summer ends here. And tips?

Don't throw your clubs or talk in my backswing

I feel your pain. For about 8 years, I couldn't get off the tee to save my life. I generally shot about a 93-95, based entirely on iron play and my work around the greens. I took lessons, read Golf Digest ad nauseum -- basically tried anything and everything.

Heh, the weird thing is my tee shots used to be my strength. Few seasons ago, when I was playing a lot more, I was an absolute beast off the tees. Couple years passed when I only got to play 2-4 times a year, and I totally lost it. Good news is, my iron game REALLY improved, but, as I said, my driver vanished.

If I can get my driver back, I'll have myself a golf game.

The critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip. Which the hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the little finger. Lowly and slowly the clubhead is led back. Pulled into position not by the hands, but by the body which turns away from the target shifting weight to the right side without shifting balance. Tempo is everything; perfection unobtainable as the body coils down at the top of the swing. Theres a slight hesitation. A little nod to the gods.

That he is fallible. That perfection is unobtainable. And now the weight begins shifting back to the left pulled by the powers inside the earth. It's alive, this swing! A living sculpture and down through contact, always down, striking the ball crisply, with character. A tuning fork goes off in your heart and your balls. Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot. Now the follow through to finish. Always on line. The reverse C of the Golden Bear! The steel workers' power and brawn of Carl Sandburg's. Arnold Palmer! End the unfinished symphony of Roy McAvoy.

Thanks, I'm sure I'll get a hole-in-one with this poem! I only understood the little finger thing. I remember a friend telling me that's how he swings.

Don't throw your clubs or talk in my backswing

I'll be renting clubs I think, so I see no problem in throwing them around. But I won't talk during your back-swing.

Thanks, I'm sure I'll get a hole-in-one with this poem! I only understood the little finger thing. I remember a friend telling me that's how he swings.

Someone hasn't watched Tin Cup.

So... I've never golfed and want to go before summer ends here. And tips?

For a beginner I would suggest not trying so hard to hit the ball. Start with a swing that is comfortable and then put the ball in the path of that swing. I've seen a number of people with some pretty good looking practice swings who totally mess up when they think about trying to hit the ball.

Someone hasn't watched Tin Cup.

Nope.

Just kick back and let the big dog eat.

Gimme another ball.

Gimme another ball.

Actually I remember watching this scene. He kept on hitting the ball in the water, and it cost him an alright score that he had up to that point I think.

Greatest ending to any movie, ever.