Unlike some people, I grew up not wealthy and taught myself how to hit a golf ball by feel and by studying a few scrounged golf magazines. Back then, golf was like hitting a baseball that didn't move and flew further, low scores were good, being a pro was the dream, golf balls came from ponds, gambling and sandbagging were legal, and the trick was to get out of school fast enough to ride the bike 20 miles to the municipal pasture, get the twilight rate and finish 9 holes. I always rode home in the dark.
My first clubs, scrounged from the used club bin at a golf shop two towns away:
I unknowingly started with blades. That's all I knew.
This time around, I have Google, YouTube and all the stuff available on or via the net. I have transportation. A bit more patience. And I have appreciation for the insights along the way, rather than chasing some dream at the end.
Excited, yet walk. Don't run.
(via Jiro on iPhone)