Nick Adams@NickAdamsinUSA
I spent some time at the golf shop earlier this evening. I was getting my clubs re-shafted for the second time this year due to my increased swing speed.
After I had dropped my bag with the shaft master, I decided to try out a few drivers in the simulator just for fun. Naturally, it was a masculine stripe show. A crowd gathered, and I began to feed off the energy of all the masculine guys admiring my form. My hips thrusted hard, powering the engine of my stroke as I nuked ripper after ripper with a PING G430.
“Why can’t you hit it like he does?” I overheard a woman ask her boyfriend in a hushed tone, “he’d outdrive you with a 7 wood.” After I finished up and the crowd dissipated, I couldn’t help but notice that same young couple was next in line for the simulator. It turned out he was there for a fitting because he couldn’t hit a driver over 200 yards and needed to get a senior shaft on his driver.
He could barely look at me as I walked past, clearly emasculated by my performance. I couldn’t help but notice that he had a photo of Rory McIlroy as his phone background. Since he had outed himself as a beta male, I decided to have a bit of fun with him. “You might want to skip right to the ladies' shafts, son. I think the seniors will still be too stiff for you,” I said, looking at his girlfriend with a twinkle in my eye. To my surprise, she responded. “I hope your woman realizes how good she has it,” she said playfully.
I told her I was happily unshackled, and her tone of voice changed. It became abundantly clear that she was infatuated with me. Normally, this amuses me, but this time, it was different. I felt pity for this man.
“So, you’re telling me that having a man who can hit bombs off the tee is what cranks your tractor?” I asked. She said yes. “All right, let’s make it happen,” I said.
I walked past her into the simulator and put my arm around her boyfriend's shoulder. “I’m going to turn you into a man today. No more Rory McIlroy. No more soy lattes. You need someone to show you the way, and it’s your lucky day.”
I lined up behind him and began walking him through the basics of the golf swing. Demonstrating everything from hand placement to rotation to the hips. Just a few minutes later, he was hitting the ball 50 yards further and significantly more straight than he was before.
We worked up a bit of a sweat throughout the course of reshaping his swing, so I suggested we head out and grab a cold domestic and keep talking about his game. “Oh, I’d love to, but I rode here with my girlfriend,” he said. I shook my head and told him, “That was your first mistake. Let’s ditch the hen and head out. I’ll give you a ride home.”
We snuck out the back door and jumped in my truck. I started it up and then looked him in the eye and said, “Have you ever been to Hooters?”