The Morning Read brotherhood
Mike Purkey's article sounded like me (“Golf after 60: A little pain, but no gain,” April 12).
I just had a physical. Blood pressure was great, and the only medicine prescribed were vitamin supplements, and I'm a 67-year-old prostate cancer survivor. My irons are getting a little shorter yearly, though I had developed a protruding stomach. My winter of 5-6 days a week in the gym (partially due to the disgusting weather in Ohio) reduced the belly into muscle and makes me feel great.
I refuse to go to senior shafts, super game-improvement clubs, and I still carry a 4-iron. I walk with my push cart whenever possible, so I just wonder if I’m Purkey’s older, long-lost brother.
Another way to deal with golf at 60
While I agree with Mike Purkey, for the most part it almost seemed like he downplayed the idea of going to a lighter flex (or a “fitted”) shaft, mentioning it only at the end of his article.
He didn't mention the simplest remedy of all, though: move up a tee box.
Horschel cleans up
It was very refreshing to see a clean-cut and neat-looking golfer in Billy Horschel on the cover of the May issue of Golf Magazine.
I am growing very weary of looking at so many of the young pros today who appear to have just crawled out of their cardboard street box.
Does it really take that much extra time to run a razor over your face? To those guys who seem to think it gives them some sort of manly look, you are mistaken. To most of us, it just makes you appear unkempt and “boxable.”
Good show, Horschel.
The thin line of victory
The benefits for winning a tournament are way out of proportion to the actual accomplishment. This is no more strikingly true than with the Masters (“Fearless Reed wins Masters showdown,” April 9).
The winner gets the green jacket, of course, but much more. On top of the usual FedEx Cup points, world-ranking points, invitations to the other majors and a lifelong invitation to the Masters, he receives the usual media appearances and his name forever ensconced up there among the pantheon of the game’s greats.
Yet what did winning depend on? An enormous amount of skill but also fortuitous bounces, lip-outs and lip-ins. Maybe a ball hanging up in the grass near the green instead of rolling backward into the water. At any rate, the difference between first and second and possibly third is razor thin.
That's what made the Olympics kind of nice. The golf event followed the standard Olympic protocol of awarding gold, silver and bronze. Thus, I can remember not only Justin Rose, but also Henrik Stenson and Matt Kuchar.
Does anyone remember who came in second at the 2003 Masters? I do. That was a Masters that Canadians remember with relish as our own Mike Weir won. Yet it was very close, and he won in a playoff. I still remember that he had to make about an 8-foot putt on the 72nd hole to get into that playoff.
If he had missed, then who would be celebrated as the winner of that Masters? Who would be invited back for the rest of his life? Len Mattiace. Weir made that put and won the playoff, and Mattiace seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. It’s kind of sad that one putt can mean that much in one’s life.
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