Playing #17 at TPC Sawgrass

Bad things lead to good. At least that's what happened today. After the awful experience at the range this morning, I had a very rewarding practice back home in my yard, on a glorious January afternoon, about forty degrees and blue skies and bright sunshine.

By now, you know my proclivities. I went back to the basics: the one-arm drill. At first, I was terrible, swinging just as I had at the range. Then I started to make a few adjustments, and by my second bucket (60 plastic balls), I was hitting the ball pretty well again. And what made the difference was my recollection of something I had come across several times in the past when the concept was over my head.

It's the idea that at impact, the hands slow down, and the clubhead goes flying ahead. Now, it's seems so obvious. But, until this moment, I never understood this part of the whipping action of the swing. This is how good golfers generate their clubhead speed. It's not the swinging of the arms, or a rush anywhere in the swing. It's what makes a swing like Els has look so effortless. It's an accelerating motion from the top down to impact. At that exact point, where the hands are ahead of the ball, the hands slow down and Hogan's supination takes place.

Once I got this concept, I could hardly believe how effortless the swing became. It was just as Johnny Miller said. You bring the club back steeply, with that early hinge, and then you don't have to do anything until the release. You turn to a certain point (don't ask me where, right now) and then you stop the forward movement of your hands, and you turn the club, leading with a bowed left wrist. Nothing could be simpler. Right? Right! Sure! It's taken me over three years to get to this point!

With greater confidence, I was able to start thinking about accuracy with my 9-iron and the one-arm swing. This is when I started playing #17 at Sawgrass, just for practice.

You know that hole. It's the one that's an island. If you miss, you're in the drink— stroke and distance. Try again. There's nowhere to drop. And this is the hole that Johnny Miller hit to when I described his teaching lesson on pressure in a recent post. For me, this hole has lost much of its terror. With my new understanding of the release—stopping the hands and letting the club go flying ahead—I had a new consistency that I have never felt before. More and more often, it seems, the parts of the swing come together, the coincidence enabling me to dial it in and go for birdie.

The other day, keeping count as I hit 60 balls, I hit roughly a third for possible pars, another third for birdie, and the last third went in the drink. That didn't really bother me because I was able to pick them all up with my shag bag, #17 being my imaginary practice hole in my driveway, where I had put down the empty bucket and hit to it from a flagstone path about thirty yards away. The lawn is too soft to hit to, and I leave footprints when I walk around picking up balls. So this offered a good alternative. I really liked Johnny Miller's video, and getting used to the idea of hitting to a difficult target and avoiding real trouble seemed like a good way to practice.

Me on #17 at Sawgrass