RESULTS FOR 08-06-15

THE GOLF SWING by Roy McAvoy (from the movie Tin Cup).
I tend to think of the golf swing as a poem. The critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip, which the hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the little finger. Lowly and slowly the club head is led back, pulled into position not by the hands, but by the body, which turns away from the target, shifting weight to the right side without shifting balance. Tempo is everything, perfection unobtainable, as the body coils down at the top of the swing. There’s a slight hesitation. A little nod to the gods to concede that we are fallible and that perfection is unobtainable. And now the weight begins shifting back to the left, pulled by the powers inside the earth. It’s alive this swing! A living sculpture. Then down through contact, always down, striking the ball crisply, with character. A tuning fork goes off in your heart. Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot. Now the follow-through to finish. Always on line. The reverse C of the Golden Bear! The steelworker’s power and brawn of Carl Sandburg’s Arnold Palmer! End, the unfinished symphony of Roy McAvoy. (Photo is of Neil Dawson, taken this morning at the #1 T-box)