"Well I tend to think of the golf swing as a poem...
The critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip, in which the hands unite to form a single unit by the overlap of the little finger.
Lowly and slowly the clubhead is pulled back, not by the hands but by the body, which turns away from the target, shifting the weight to the right side, shifting balance.
Tempo is everything, perfection is unattainable, as the body coils down at the top of the swing there is a little hesitation, a little nod to the Gods.
To the gods, yes... that he is fallible.
Perfection is unattainable as the weight shifts back to the left pulled now by powers inside the earth, it's alive, this swing, a living sculpture, and down through contact, always down, into terra firma, striking the ball crisply, with character.
A tuning fork goes off in your heart.
Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot. And then the follow through to the finish, always on line."
by Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy
One of my favorite sayings....
Your friend in golf.
John Grothe, PGA
john.grothe@gmail.com
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