Bill Elliott
I don’t know about you but I’m a sucker for a quick swing fix. For us golfers this is a kind of reflex action and, as such, both nonnegotiable and obligatory. The crazy thing is there doesn’t even have to be something wrong with our swing – other than the things that are almost always wrong but which we accept as part of the price we eternally pay for being seduced by the old game.
Those of us who take a stiff drink before writing stuff for this magazine know also that we are never, ever the first thing you, dear
“I’ve been privileged to have had tips from some of the best players on the planet”
reader, look at when opening the latest edition of GM. No, admit it, it’s the instruction pages. High handicap, low handicap or no handicap, it doesn’t matter. The Holy Grail of a quick fix, an instant improvement, is always what you (often me too) reach out for before anything else.
This was okay before the advent of the interweb and all that meanders within its infinite space. Back in ye olden days I’d often rip out a couple of pages of instruction – usually how to get a ball out of a bunker without spraining a wrist or deflating an ego – before heading off to the practice ground, my head singing with optimism. Occasionally it worked, although never with the bunker problem that continues to hang around like a bad, immovable smell.
Now, however, on a daily basis my inbox throws up invitations to join this coach or that ex-player who will show me how to find the path to swing redemption. I’ve fallen for some of these temptations too, or at least tried to fall – usually I never get to the end of the spiel that repeats the same message in 174 different ways. So I give up, never finding out what the magical swing thought is or, in some cases, how much they want me to pay for the info.
Take the latest one that greets me every morning, Nick Faldo’s 60second drill to gain 30 yards. Well, the drill may take just a minute a day but finding out what the hell it is takes way too long. If you’ve managed to trek to the end of Sir Nick’s personal Holy Grail then please let me know what it is. There’s a beer in it for the first to make contact.
Actually, I’ve been privileged to have had tips from some of the best players on the planet over the years. Sandy Lyle and dear, departed Brian Barnes spent far too much time in various bunkers with me before wandering away shaking their heads, and while Greg Norman’s driving advice was brilliant, it was only really brilliant if you had at least ten per cent of his natural talent. Greg shook his head so much the big hat he was wearing fell off. This, of course, made me laugh, which only increased his frustration with the idiot he was very kindly trying to help.
The one top class tip I got that I was able to use occasionally came, naturally, from Seve. I was playing a few holes with the great man when I asked him what the secret was to hitting a really long drive. He stopped, looked at me with what I felt was rather faintly disguised disdain and slowly said “Usually, I heet the ball harder”. We left it at that.
By the way, I asked Nick Faldo if he would give me a tip to put into a book called Golf Tips From The Stars (surprisingly popular in Japan, apparently) and he was kind enough to offer this one: before you go to play, always check in a mirror if your feet, hips and shoulders are aligned properly. It’s really important, he said, and would only take a minute. Hang on a minute, 60 seconds? It couldn’t be, could it?
While I work that one out, here’s my final thought on The Masters and all that is great at Augusta. Among the various scribblings on offer before this 2022 version took place were several references to the glory that is the pimento cheese sandwich. This, be warned, is nonsense. The egg sandwich is far superior. Indeed, while spending a lot of time in the USA over the years, I swiftly came to two immovable conclusions: never, ever, argue with an American cop and never, under any circumstances, ingest an American cheese. Some of you will know what I mean.