New putter grip

I mentioned in my last post the grip I received from Scott at Time Fore Tee (also www.tartangolfgrips.com). I just installed it on my putter and it looks great! I'm psyched to use it in my round tomorrow. The thrill I got in slicing off that heinous red Cameron grip with the stupid lettering and crown design was a bonus. I couldn't stand that grip and now I have the perfect grip to replace it!

Now I have The Goose represented on my big stick AND my little stick.

Scott does a great job designing these gorgeous grips and I'm honored that he designed this one just for us in Kess' memory. It is one of the nicest, most thoughtful gifts I have ever received and I can't thank him enough. He also writes an interesting and detailed golf blog, so check him out at the links above!

Bring on the one-putts, Kessy!

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Punta Espada Video

Inspired by Rich at Eatgolf, I finally decided to get off my butt (or on it, actually) to put together this 3:48 video of the back nine at Punta Espada, my happy place.

Click on the play arrow and it will play here in the small window. Click on the YouTube logo and you can view it larger on YouTube. Or, click here to see it on google video even larger.



Music credit: I want to be Charo, by The Mudhens.

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My theory on Tiger Woods - you heard it here first

No human being can play golf that well so consistently. The kind of domination Tiger Woods wields over everyone in the world who plays golf requires a mental consistency of which no human being is capable. Therefore, Tiger Woods is not human. So what is he? Well, I have a few theories and stay with me because they kind of blend into each other. They are:

A. Tiger Woods is a robot
B. Tiger Woods is an alien
C. Tiger Woods is a changeling

First, you know we common folk aren't aware of the truly cutting edge technology that exists and prototype testing that goes on in secret. Tiger could be the product of the uber-private robotics industry. This could either be done in the private sector or by a major government power. Given that he is an American, probably the United States government. I don't see another country's government just handing us a winner like that even if it meant a better cover.

Second, you know we are not alone. Not only in the universe, but here on Earth. Exhibit A: The praying mantis. A friend recently pointed out to me that they are, of course, actually aliens and I completely agree. Look at their cool demeanor and the way they observe the world and indeed, you. Look at the way they control their numbers on Earth in order to remain inconspicuous until they decide to take over: the females bite the heads off of the males after mating. I think they know that the human form has the greatest advantage over other species on the planet and they will take the form of humans once we have killed ourselves off with our stupidity. Tiger might just be their prototype. That's where the third theory comes in and the blending begins.

Perhaps the aliens are capable of a changeling type of metamorphosis.

Is this what Tiger looked like before the change?

"Achieving trust is always the final step with a change." - Tiger Woods
Maybe deep down, he wasn't talking about his swing.

More than likely, their evolution is so far beyond our own that we couldn't even comprehend the kind of mental discipline, intelligence and physical power they possess. Maybe they didn't want to "waste" one of their own by experimenting with the form of a human. Instead, they developed a robotic simulation of themselves for the test. I guess the simplistic human equivalent would be like sending a monkey into space before a human.

How about when he doesn't win?

If Tiger ever has a bad hole, four in a row, comes in second in a tournament or even misses a cut, you can bet it's by design. They don't want to blow their cover. It's just that their little experiment has his own highly involved intelligence center (way beyond our simple brains). He's fully capable of winning every tournament every time and they let him dominate the sport but he's gotta make it look good. Lately, I think he disobeyed some of his orders and is drawing too much attention to himself. I wonder if they'll rein him in a bit.

But he's so emotional!

Oh, and what about that emotional display at the British Open? Was that some kind of flaw in the dominant mental system? Not at all. He became attached to his earthly father and probably has some true feelings there, but I think he never would have expressed them. The superiors were looking for a way to make him appear more human, so after his "father" died, they had him miss a cut and then activated his emotion chip on the 18th hole at the Open. I wonder if his earth family and Steve Williams are the biggest victims of the deception or if the aliens are using some kind of mind control in order to let them in on it.

Why Tiger?

Okay, so why would they choose to do this with a golfer? Easy. They wanted it to be an athletic figure so they could test the physical capabilities of the human body. They wanted him to be a public figure because it's just fun to bamboozle so many people. Of the sports, golf is the most mentally challenging. But most importantly, it's the sport with the most nature around so the mantis can observe unobtrusively. I'd like to see some of that nose-hair zoom camera work at the next PGA event focusing on the mantis leader.

So, there you have it. Tiger Woods is a robotic changeling alien. You heard it here first.

Photos courtesy Erich Mangl.

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Happy Place Revealed

A few weeks ago, I posted a teaser about my new "happy place." Since then, I've had cause to visit it in my head many times.

Update: 10/04/06 - I have posted a short video of the back nine here.


I have been reluctant to post about it here because I'd love to get a story about it sold to an actual printed golf publication, and I know how they are about exclusivity rights. But I realize I've been leaving you hanging for too long now and besides, I'm not going to write here what I'd sell to them anyway.

¿Cómo se dice "distracting"?

A few weeks ago, I was very fortunate to have been invited to be among the first to play the brand new Jack Nicklaus signature golf course, Punta Espada. It is on the very eastern tip of the Dominican Republic in a development called Cap Cana. It is the first of three planned Jack Nicklaus courses that will be built there.

When I went, only the back nine were open but I got a "backstage tour" from the pro there, Mark Clouse. He played the back nine with me a couple times and took me on a tour of the front nine and the clubhouse inner workings during its construction. It was an experience I will never forget.

I got soaked on this hole while standing over by the side of the green waiting for my playing partner, Mike (the time I played without Mark) to hit up from just off the green. Another foot and he'd have been in the water. A wave came up and soaked me, Mike and our caddie, Armando. It felt great!

Hands down, this is the nicest course I've ever played and possibly ever will play. Many of the holes on the back nine are played right on or over the Caribbean Sea and the rest of them have amazing views of it. Not just a sliver viewed from atop the very back tees.

Happy opening!

Yesterday, the front nine opened. I'm dying to go back and play the rest of the course. The front nine has some holes I'd love to get my clubs on with equally as stunning views and strategies required as the back nine. The grand opening with Jack Nicklaus is scheduled for November 7.

Word of caution: if you want to play this golf course (and anyone reading this site should), do it soon. When they open the next golf course (end of 2007), Punta Espada will be entirely private. And no, you can't just go buy a membership there. You must purchase some of the amazing property there to even be eligible for a membership and they only have about 100 memberships left to sell. They are going to keep the membership number LOW.

For more information, see their website at www.capcana.com.

If you're from a golf publication and would like a story on this golf course (and I have many, many more photographs), contact me at thegolfchick@gmail.com.

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Conversation with a tweaking nihilist

This week, my work took me to Middleofnowhere, Ohio. In case that doesn’t ring a bell, it’s about an hour east of Neverheardofit, Indiana.

I must be getting old because there was a time this experience would have thrilled me in a romantic Kerouac-like hop-off-a-train kind of On the Road sort of way. Maybe I’m just too tired. Or maybe that mystique is gone for me because the lifestyle doesn’t include golf, my new obsession.

My recent travel schedule has had me scrambling with little time at home to do anything but golf. Because of that, I neglected to replenish some consumable items that had been depleted from my toiletry bag. Normally, that wouldn’t be such a big deal. Wherever I travel, if the hotel can’t provide a complimentary replacement, they usually carry something acceptable in their gift shop. Worst case scenario, I can make an end-run to the local drug store in my rental car. If they had a store here in Middleofnowhere, it certainly wouldn’t be open at this hour.

After a day of travel and incurring a three hour time change, I arrived at my destination airport after midnight local time with close to 100 miles still to drive. Flying in, I somehow must have missed the big sign covering the state that said “closed.” It was dark and cold and the route I drove was densely packed with nothing. The closer I got to my destination, the less I saw, which really had me wondering whether I was being set up because it sure didn’t seem like there was enough population to support enough businesses to be buying what we’re selling. Finally, a town appeared out of nowhere.

Here's a photo I took about 5 miles before I reached my destination. If you click on the picture and look really, really close, you can see nothing.

When I arrived, the hotel had “lost” my reservation and was booked to capacity which again had me wondering if the clerk was in on punking me. He gave me someone else’s reservation and we both crossed our fingers that it was late enough the person wouldn’t arrive. I got to my room and it looked like I just missed the party. Beer bottles full and empty were scattered around the room as well as some snacks and soft drinks. The rest of the room was tidy, but who knows when the three bears would be arriving back to claim their chairs. I called down to the desk, and they sent security up to escort me to my new room. They also sent apologies and a coupon for a complimentary breakfast. Screw breakfast. By the time I got settled in, unwound and asleep, it was 3:00 A.M., and I had to be up in about four hours, which would be 4:00 A.M my time. I’ll be hitting the coffee and going in to deliver a product launch in front of a room full of people running on fumes. I don’t have time for your stinking breakfast. But when I unpacked and was getting ready for bed, I realized there was something I needed. Dental floss.

I called back down to my newest friend, the clerk at the front desk. After all, they did have a placard in the bathroom that said if I forgot any standard toiletry item they would be happy to provide a replacement.

“Guest services.”

“Hi, it’s me again, from room… what room am I in now?”

“Oh yes, hello Miss Williams. What can I do for you?”

“I seem to be out of floss. Would you happen to have any at the desk or would I have to call housekeeping in the morning?”

“Noss?”

“Pardon?”

“What was it you needed?”

“Floss. Dental floss.”

“Oh, I thought you said ‘noss’ and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what that could be.”

“Do you have some?”

“I don’t believe in floss.”

(How does someone not believe in floss? It’s almost 2:00 A.M. and I just want to go to bed. It’s dawning on me that this guy works the graveyard shift and I am in what is commonly considered the meth capital of the U.S.)

“O…okay. Do you have any?”

“Well, I don’t, but the hotel might.”

Silence…

“Could you check?”

“Oh, well I thought you were reconsidering and you might not actually want it if you thought for a moment about what it really is and the society that has made you think you needed it in the first place.”

“Right then. So I’ll just skip it for now and check with housekeeping in the morning.”

“Yeah, cause you know flossing doesn’t make you a good person and in fact all the things that so called good people value are pretty weak. I mean, how do we even know anything that we supposedly know when things are only there because we created them but our own selves might just be created in thought in the first place.”

“Do you sell Tylenol in the gift shop?”

Heavy, dramatic sigh… “Yesss.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right down.”

And thus began my floccinaucinihilipilification of small town Ohio living.

:)

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My new inspiration!

I got it! I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world. The only gift I wanted and asked for was an item that didn't exist and I got it anyway! How awesome is my mom?

In an earlier post, I made a plea for a unique clubhead cover. My mom would probably call that another kind of guilty plea - when she gave it to me and I was shocked and surprised, she said "how could I not after that blog post?" I posted a picture of a fawn colored Great Dane by Daphne's Headcovers. My thinking was that if my mom didn't crochet me a replacement for her earlier attempt, I might check with Daphne's to see if they made custom covers. Turns out my mom had the same idea, but she found out that they do not make custom orders. But she's no dummy and she didn't stop there. She went ahead and ordered the light colored one and customized it herself. We finally got together on Saturday to celebrate the holidays and all the birthdays (we're all in December and January) and I got this for my birthday. Check it out!

One of a kind. See this on the course and you know Golfchick is near.

How perfect is that? It makes me so happy! It's huge, so even though my five wood has already been dubbed my "goose" and will probably continue to be called that on the fairway when the situation calls for it, this cover goes on my driver. Normally, I take my cover off my driver on the first tee and leave it off for the entire round. Not anymore! That old Taylor Made cover wasn't as easy to slip on and off as this goose cover.

I already played with her on my bag and it just tickled me every time I took it off and put it back on. Even after hitting a "less-than-great" drive, I'd return to my bag irritated and it all just washed away when I saw the goose there waiting. I just smiled and moved on. She may not have helped my score, but she certainly didn't hurt it. I shot an 89 at Mountain View, which isn't great, but for a Sunday-bloody mary-Sunday round, it's not bad at all.

Just look at the resemblance. I'm so glad the goose will have a physical presence on the course with me now. Greg thinks we should put a white visor on her and the words "The Goose" in white across the back of her neck. I think I like her just the way she is. Maybe we can do that when they're mass produced for sale. :)

On Saturday, I'll find out what kind of an effect she has during competition. We have our first tournament with the Treehouse. As club champ, I'm prepared for everyone to be after my hide. Last year, people didn't mind seeing me win so much and I might have even had some rooters, especially in A-flight where they didn't have to compete with me until the end. This year I expect they'll be gunning for me, especially considering that I have moved up to A-flight with them. Another woman joined the club this year, too. I wonder if she'll be playing from the whites or reds. Last season they had me play from the red tees during fun stroke-play tournaments but from the whites for the match play eliminations for club championship. This year, the board gave me my choice of which tees to play for the entire season and I chose to play from where everyone else plays (whites). With the goose on my driver, how can I go wrong?

Thanks again, mom! You're the best!

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Being "eyed" at the range

The pressure was on at the range yesterday. Not in the form of a teacher or any other pro or anything. No, the eyes that were on me were those of a six year old girl.

I finally felt comfortable leaving the Goose alone for a little while and really needed to get out and swing a little. I had another errand to run and didn't want to be gone too long, so I only got one bucket at the range. My swing felt good and every club I picked up was doing what it was supposed to. I was even using the 25-35 mph wind to land some shots on a couple of the greens at different distances. Not every shot was spot on, of course, but every shot was clean. I worked my way up to my driver and was having fun showing off to the teenaged boys who were trying to outdo me a couple stalls down (not a problem, only one of the three could even hit the ball).

I had just finished with my driver and was starting to cool down with my 7 iron when the "eyes" came my way. A little girl in all pink shorts and top - couldn't be cuter - was walking with a man, probably her grandfather, on their way to the lower portion of the range. They were coming from behind me so I hadn't seen them yet, but I heard something to the effect of "well, you can hit it like that when you get older and have more muscles" as they were approaching. I didn't know he was talking about me. As they were passing, I turned my head and saw them. She practically giggled when I looked at her and I smiled and went back to my business. The man then stopped, and sat her down on the bench right there to just watch me. He made comments like "see how smooth she swings" and "just like that" and "doesn't her swing look smooth and easy."

First, I've never had anyone point to my swing as the right way to do things. That was cool. Even better than that, though, was the look of awe on this little girl's face. When I waved to her as they walked away, she waved back and grabbed her grandpa and giggled into him.

I switched to my sand wedge and my lefty club to finish out the last few balls and proceeded to dunk the 50 yard basket in a final hoorah. Good outing all around I'd say. Good outing. Thanks, little girl.

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Show a little class, not a little anatomy

I recently played in a foursome with three men. Okay, I do that a lot, but most of the time, the men I play with are civilized. I doubt it’s just because I’m there, either. I bet they’re the kind of men who actually prefer to use restrooms on the golf course. Occasionally, though, I witness the guy who prefers to “give back to nature.” In most cases, I think it must be a preference and not a necessity. I’ll accept that occasionally someone might drink one too many beers to make the excruciating wait for a couple of holes until we reach the next restroom. No, I won’t. If you’ve been potty trained, and chances are, if you’re playing on a big boy golf course with 18 holes with fairways and everything, you have, you are grown-up enough to anticipate this type of need and plan for it.

So, when I saw it happen on the ninth hole, I politely and good naturedly mentioned that there is a restroom at the clubhouse immediately following this hole. Maybe the good natured part was too much and he assumed I was joking. Either way, I would have thought I wouldn’t have had to be less subtle to get the point across that he really should be using the supplied restrooms like the rest of us. Then, the same guy relieves himself near the tenth tee box. Maybe my comment brought out the bratty five year old in him and that was an obstinate gesture? He seemed pretty oblivious so I tend to think that he simply chose not to exhibit any class, if he had any to begin with. This time, someone else in the foursome made a comment to me about it so that the “offender” could hear it, and I made my response directly to the Urinator. He managed to forecast correctly the rest of the round and used the restrooms, so I know it wasn’t some kind of bladder problem.

Since other men seem to be offended by such crude behavior, I don’t think this is a case of men feeling “restricted” by women on the course. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the whole idea behind men’s-only clubs is so they can burp, fart and wave their penises around as they urinate all over the course. Then, right before they turn on the cameras at Augusta, their mothers come along, straighten up their collars and tidy up their hair and faces with a little spit on the thumb and everyone’s on their best behavior. Maybe that’s the big secret men’s-club thing and I just don’t know the handshake.

I know someone’s going to read this and surmise that I have “penis envy.” Personally, I think that is more of a phenomenon amongst current penis owners and their feelings of inadequacy. However, I will admit that it does upset me that my lack of a penis earns me about 25% less salary than my male counterparts in my current professional position. Other than that, I can assure you that the only desire I have for a penis requires its attachment to my man. But I digress.

Golf is supposed to be such a civilized sport. We wear nice clothes, observe proper etiquette and obscure rules, and follow the honor system with scoring. It seems to me that using the provided restrooms would be at the very basic level of that etiquette system. Or doesn’t it count unless it is written in some golf-specific etiquette book? You can look up any kind of golf etiquette question on the internet and get detailed descriptions of how to tend the flagstick, or even what is proper tipping in the restrooms of the fancier clubs. Tipping in the restrooms? Relax. If you’re still struggling with whether or not to use the restroom, you’re probably not on a course that would have an attendant in there anyway. Probably the reason this isn’t on any etiquette list is that if you know how to read, it’s expected that you’re already following this simple standard. I guess that means posting a sign would be useless as well.

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