On the Dance Floor, the Last Dance.
In the final part of the Golf Girl trilogy we learn amongst other things that it is possible to open a bottle with a putter. Funny what you can pick up at a golf festival! Check out the blog from 07.07.05 for Part 1 and the blog from 05.08.05 for Part two of this tale of one womens impression of life on the inside of a tournament.
Mannie was all business at this point. It was not an easy task to pry the cap off with a putter and we practiced carefully as there was only the one beer. The YES! man got to do the shaking and wastefully sprayed beer everywhere. What a story! Mannie interviewed the YES! man about the technology behind the putters. Intrepid reporter that I am, I didn’t really listen, instead determining whether I wanted to dine with a second tier caddy or head back to Baltimore that night for more martinis on the road.
"...and then pivot the blade under the cap and really commit to it" Putting advice by the Pros
Second story done, Mannie and I were ebullient. What a team. The sun was hoisting the yardarm and I casually mentioned that perhaps there was one more story if only we could find him…
I explained that there was a man I used to know (bibilicaly)… who never would golf with me and I reckoned he would be playing in the Pro-Am this very day. I was trying to sense where in the fields and dales he was, while Mannie referred to the schedule, cleverly. As if by fate my man was just finishing on the 9th green, 50 yards away.
We watched him putt. He had an extremely young cute female caddie with him. Future bunker babe I mused. He one putted and looked happy. He strode off the green to a smattering of applause. Bystanders whispered his name as he passed and as he wandered towards me I made myself plainly obvious.
He saw me with my press pass and my cameraman and actually stopped in his tracks, his mouth open. “What are you doing here?” he asked with wonder. “I’m with GolfPunk. This is my cameraman. Can we have a picture?” He automatically went into pose mode and so a beautiful picture was borne. You’d swear we were daughter and dad, happy. He was whisked off by autograph seekers and I sighed. I had made it to Congressional on my own. I was with the press corps. And I had finally got my man!
The most important lesson I learned at the Booz-Allen Classic Tournament, was the fluency behind really keeping your eyes on the ball. Watching these golf gods close up the stare and pause go together as part of the rhythm of the swing, a note in the song, a step that anticipates the pendulum swinging down, moving back up. I realized the extent of the pause, time almost stands still, then go! You don’t get that inspiration, that momentum for discipline, from watching a video or replay. The next week, back in my civvy golf life, I added yardage and took off strokes. I smiled while at the muni and daydreamed about new golf quests. I stopped and thought, “GolfPunk, GolfPunk, GolfPunk!”

Words and Pictures Dr Morgenthaler
8/11/2005 7:29:46 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)
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