
Son,
I don’t have much time left. That’s right. I’m dying.
Wow, right? It’s a pretty heavy statement to hear and I’m sorry I didn’t share it with you sooner. The thought of uttering those words has kept me up for nights on end; asking myself how should I say it or when should I say it. Perhaps it should be the punch line of a joke, or perhaps it should it be “slipped” when delivering an important guilt trip lecture. Or maybe I should ask you to help me lift something before dramatically collapsing near the top step of the stairs. I simply don’t know the right way to do this. Worse yet, maybe there is no right way.

But then this morning came and I desperately needed a distraction from my mundane job selling envelopes, not to mention my editor at TTAF was giving me shit for not delivering on a piece I promised. Guy is a real rag! So forgive me for not making this more personal and forgive me for short changing you on the thousands of lessons I’ll never get the chance to teach you. The knowledge I have in my brain bank could fill literally thousands of swimming pools. Makes sense then why the golf Gods wanted me dead and fittingly will make sure their secrets remain deeply in the dirt.

My friends say, “You have some time left don’t you? Why not just give the kid the broad strokes or at the very least walk him through the setup and the takeaway!” The setup AND the takeaway? That could take fucking years! “Ok then just the setup. Tell him to get in a good athletic position and bend from the hips with his left arm straight – and be done with it. Better than nothing, right?” Son, I hate to break it to you but it’s just not that simple! Stance should be 55/45 favoring the left side, not a smidge more. Arms and club shaft should make a 120 degree angle, and don’t forget spine tilt, where the right shoulder should be below the left by 15% of shoulder tip width (measured when lats are flexed). Adams apple should be sucked in towards the T3 spinal disc with eyes in half squint and corneae (that’s plural for cornea) positioned to the far bottom right of your peripheral vision. Golf professionals will note I’d also be leaving out information on the symbiotic relationship between the glutes and quads, proper knee flexion, or proper rectal breathing.

What I’m trying to say is I’m not going to blow through all this information quickly and hope that you can put the pieces together on your own. But what I will do is impart to you 3 things that will make your golf life infinitely more rewarding.
- Don’t dream of marrying a woman that loves golf as much as you do. Have a thousand female golf friends if you like but never get yourself in a position of having to say “Great shot Babe!” after a 50 yard dribbler.
- Opt to play as a single rather than joining a 3-some of old men with push carts. Inevitably they’ll want to talk about the good ole days where Miller Barber held off Gay Brewer in the 1964 Cajun Classic. That and how Starbucks coffee is too strong and not hot enough.
- In your lifetime you will shit yourself on the course a minimum of 6 times. No amount of pre-planning or healthy habits can save you from this. So stop worrying about when it will happen and prepare yourself for dealing with its aftermath. Make note that the way out is to pretend you are Marie Kondo. I don’t care if they’re a $45 pair of Tommy Johns coolmax boxer briefs. Just tell your soiled undergarments thank you for their service and move on.
Best regards,
Dad
