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How many people do you know who truly love their job? I’m sure you could think of one or even a few, but out of all the people you know it probably wouldn’t be a very large percentage. Well, you can count me among those who do. When I tell whoever I’m talking to that I love what I do they often seem surprised, since they know that I started out as a player with aspirations to make my living on the course, but ended up with my primary source of income being my teaching.
The fact that I love to teach is actually a testament to the game of golf, because I love playing even more than teaching, and it has been my experience that the two are usually mutually exclusive. Good players who aren’t quite good enough to earn a living playing and have to teach usually feel that teaching takes away from their playing, and teachers who are marginal players usually see playing as opportunity cost and wind up avoiding it altogether. Thus the size of the “player-teacher” niche is quite small. I have always encouraged teachers to play competitively, emphasizing that the playing experience is essential to better teaching in numerous ways, not the least being the ability to distinguish between what sounds good in theory and what works under pressure.
As I mentioned, I love to play, whether by myself after work or in front of 50,000 people, and I love to teach as well, be it a Tour player or a 30 handicapper or anything in between. I can’t think of anything that could say more about the game of golf than the fact that I love everything about it, and I have to marvel at my luck in being able to earn a nice living at it as well.
My being good at playing the game was pure luck. My father introduced me to the game, and while he was decent, he had a time consuming job and could only be described as a “weekend golfer”. He learned from a few books, one being (luckily for me) Hogan’s Five Lessons, and the swing he taught me emerged from my attempt to “turn my left shoulder under my chin, brace my right leg, and stay behind the ball”. I started when I was 9, and by the time I was 13 I was winning age group tournaments. I had a “knack” for the game, and without knowing a thing about swing planes, pivot rotation, impact alignments, launch angles, or spin rates I was good enough to win every major junior tournament in the D.C. area and advance to the round of 32 in the U.S. Amateur by the time I was 17. I had no idea what I was doing: I could just play.
Unfortunately, my version of “just playing” had an upright swing with driving knees and an exaggerated “reverse-C” finish, which eventually wore my back out and led to multiple surgeries. In order to keep playing and have any sort of career in the game I had to figure out how to swing without killing myself. I had always felt that I should be able to figure things out for myself, especially with the aid of a video camera, and that is exactly what I did. Would I have done better with some help? Who knows, although I know for sure that it is a real possibility that I could have done a lot worse, as I have seen it happen many times.
How can a teaching pro make a player worse? Unfortunately, it’s not that hard to do. If you think back on all the golf you have played you may remember trying to help one of your friends, or a playing companion, who was struggling during a round. It’s hard to watch someone you like imploding on the course, suddenly unable to hit the ball at all. They could be shanking, slicing, hitting everything fat, whatever the case it begins to affect the whole group. You might even be playing fairly well, and it may be (you think) due to a tip you got from another friend, or a lesson you had last week, or an article from a magazine that just came in the mail. You make a suggestion, hoping that what has helped you might help your friend, but it has the opposite effect. It gets worse. Now, after the round, you stop at the range to continue to try and help, but it’s a downward spiral, and now you’re caught in the maelstrom.
The problem is not with your generosity or your sincerity; it is with the breadth of your knowledge, or lack thereof. To properly diagnose the reason a swing will not hit the ball a teacher must know a whole lot of stuff, and had better have a video camera handy to make sure what he thinks he sees is really what is happening. The problem the average player has is discerning whether or not a teacher really knows what he or she is doing. The subject matter of golf is just that- subjective. The theories and opinions regarding any facet of the game are endless, and even the most ridiculous and outrageous are able to find traction with the public if presented with enough marketing savvy. It is a fact that just about every mistake that supposedly makes it impossible to be a good player has been used by not only a good player, but a great champion. History has provided us with a plethora of great players, and if a teacher wanted to find pictures to prove that a certain move or position had been used by a number of them it would be easy to do. Of course, just as many pictures could be found to suggest that the opposite move was just as good if not better, and a great debate could follow over just what was truly the “answer” to everyone’s problems. If you asked me I would tell you that you might as well argue about religion, as much good as it would do to try to convince someone that you knew “the truth”, when the truth is that if you have faith in something that’s all that matters.
What is “true”, however, is that a good debate is the essence of learning, and that if a position or a theory can be backed up with evidence then it is possible to say that some statements that are based on conventional wisdom are not true, and that some methods of teaching golf, or specific “tips”, are not correct and could possibly make a player worse instead of better.
I think that in general teaching is a noble vocation, and that most teachers truly want to help their students, not make them worse. We would all love to be recognized by our peers and sought out by top players as well as the average Joe, and we try our best provide information that is helpful. I always try to keep this in mind as I read golf magazines and peruse the instruction tidbits, as I know that the editors and the contributors are trying to offer constructive advice. That does not mean, however, that the advice is always constructive, or even correct, and as I read the last few Golf Digest Magazines I found just such a few examples.
Now, before I start in, let me say that I have nothing but respect for Annika Sorenstam as a golfer. She is undoubtedly the best of her generation, and at some point in the future could be considered the best of all time. I also admire her interest in teaching, and the new Annika Sorenstam Teaching Center in Orlando is a testament to her desire to expand her horizons in the game and to prove that her expertise on the course can be transferred to young golfers who could possibly follow in her footsteps. It is a powerful feeling to directly influence the success of young people. Teaching is so gratifying at times that many excellent players turn to it after their playing days are over.
In writing about teaching over the years I have often tackled the subject of teaching pros who don’t play competitive golf, some by choice and others simply because they lack the skill with which to do so. It is obvious from the Top Teacher lists that within the golfing industry and with the public in general, it is acceptable to teach golf without demonstrating the ability to play golf. The other side of the coin is the great player who decides, for whatever reason (usually an injury or a decline in skill level), to start making money by teaching.
If non-playing teaching pros are prone to offer up untested theories and second or third-hand information, good players who turn to teaching are equally inclined to teach primarily what they feel, which, as video analysis often suggests, is not what is actually happening. To illustrate my point that there is a large difference between what is real and what is real I often recount my encounter with Moe Norman, the legendary ball-striker, who had very definite ideas about what he did to hit the ball so straight. “Straight down the line, 22 inches”, Moe would intone after he hit another laser-like shot. “Me and Hogan, nobody down the line longer than me and Hogan” Moe would repeat (he repeated everything at least twice). At that moment Moe was giving a clinic before the start of a pro-member guest at the Adios Club in Fort Lauderdale, and my playing partner happened to be one of my long time students. As we watched, Alan (my student) nudged me and said “hey, what does he mean “down the line”. You’ve been telling me to arc the club around to the left after impact, and that the club never moves in a straight line!
“That’s exactly correct”, I told Alan. The club never moves in a straight line, and that includes Moe Norman’s club”. “So you’re telling me”, says Alan, “that Moe Norman doesn’t know what he’s doing when he swings the club”.
“That’s right”, I replied, “he doesn’t, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll film what he’s doing right this second and after we play I’ll show it to you at your house. We’ll put it on your TV so there will be no mistaking what’s going on here. What Moe is saying is what he feels like he is doing. By trying to swing the club along the target line after impact he hits the ball better. But that doesn’t mean he’s actually doing that. And if you’re one of the 100 people who are watching and listening to him there’s a very good chance that what he is saying will screw you up in a big way.
“That’s ridiculous”, said Alan, “but I hope you’re right, because I’ve been paying you a lot of money”. “Don’t worry”, I said. “You’ll see. It’s physically impossible to do what he says he is doing.”
Sure enough, back at the house I plugged the camera into the television and ran the tape. When I got to the moment of truth I stopped. “Are you ready for this?” I asked. “Sure, go ahead”, Alan said, edging forward on his chair in anticipation. As I clicked the frame advance, Moe’s clubhead turned immediately to the left after hitting the ball, and went around him so far that it exited out of his body below his waistline, much like a baseball swing would look. As the club made its way to a low, left finish, Moe suddenly lifted his arms up in front of his body, giving the appearance of a high finish caused by a “down the line” follow-through. Alan was flabbergasted. “That’s unbelievable”, he said. “His club goes more left than anyone I’ve ever seen.” “Of course it does”, I replied. “He stands further from the ball than almost any good player in history. His club has to swing more left. The point is that no club, for any player, swings “straight down the line”. It simply can’t happen. The swing works on an angled plane. The clubhead arcs and the face constantly closes in the forward swing. Any description that is contrary to that is what the player feels, not what is actually happening. You would do well to remember that when listening to quality players describe what they think they are doing”, especially if they are suggesting that you do the same”.
Now, if you’re wondering why I recounted that story, the reason is that it leads directly to my problem with Annika and her new found love of teaching. Let me say again, I have no desire to suggest that she is doing anything wrong on purpose. I do know, however, from 25 years of teaching experience, when I read instruction that is based on feel and not on proper mechanics. Such is the case with Annika’s tips in the May and June issues of Golf Digest. Trust me, I read plenty of “tips” that are suspect at best, and downright dangerous at worst, and Annika’s are no worse than many. But Annika is now opening her own “learning center”, and as it will be based on her swing philosophy I gave her one page suggestions closer scrutiny.
Her mini-lesson in the May issue is entitled “Making Short Putts”. She encourages her readers to keep the face square by controlling the stroke “with your shoulders, not your hands. Rock your shoulders back and through, with the butt of the club staying pointed at your midsection”. This may sound like good advice until you consider that since the putter swings on an angled plane, keeping the butt of the club pointing at your midsection guarantees an arcing stroke, in which the putter would have to close on the follow through and swing to the left of the target line. If you question that statement, simply grab a belly-putter and see what kind of stroke results from attaching it to your stomach. It’s OK for Annika, the player, to think whatever she wants when she putts. It’s another thing altogether to give innocent readers incorrect information which could have them yipping 3-footers in no time.
Her “lesson tee” tip in the June issue lists “3 Keys to Driving the Ball Straight”. In order they are: 1-Strengthen the grip. 2-Widen the stance. 3-Reach impact with the shoulders square. Now, the first two suggestions might be fine for some people, but disastrous for others. Obviously, Annika is recounting what she has either figured out for herself to help her hit the ball better, or whomever she listens to regarding her swing has suggested that these changes would suit her particular situation. What she needs to understand is that a teacher cannot simply offer up a “try this, it worked for me” type of tip randomly to whoever happens to read the magazine. Instruction does not work like that. Every situation is different, and all teaching is essentially individual in nature. What might work wonders for one person might possibly ruin the next. The average golfer has no idea if their grip is strong or weak, or if their stance is wide or narrow. Without some sort of assessment by a competent professional such tips are best unread.
The suggestion to hit the driver with the shoulders square might help someone who tends to spin the upper body over the lower, but in my experience the vast majority of mediocre players have limited ability to rotate their pivot at all, and flip their hands into every shot as a result. I spend a lot of time during a normal day of teaching trying to entice students to rotate more aggressively through the ball in order to achieve some semblance of correct sequence where the body leads the arms and hands through impact. Annika might have benefited from trying to stay squarer at impact, but I can guarantee you that the vast majority of golfers would not.
The problem here is one of inexperience. If Annika became more involved with teaching on a daily basis, and on an individual basis, she would quickly discover that what makes her hit the ball better might be totally unsuitable for the desperate golfers reading Golf Digest looking for help. My point is not to browbeat her for being clueless, but only to point out the need for deeper thought when it comes to offering instruction to the masses. It has always been a major fault of the national magazines to leave out any details they deem “too technical” for their readers, and what is often left is incomplete and many times injurious to the very people they hope to help. Perhaps someone as accomplished and respected as Annika Sorenstam might find that along with her new interest in teaching comes an obligation to think through her ideas on a deeper level, and that since her every word will be taken as gospel that she make sure that her suggestions come with an explanation that might keep the wrong person from trying the wrong tip.