“Front-Sided, Un-Flipping Left Supinated Back-of-Hand Candlestick Batter Forward-Loop Toward Target Around the Head/Hub with Right Arm-Forefinger Sidereal-Shutfaced Stick Smashing Down At and Forward Through the Ball/Wall.”

 

This jumbled collection of English words, assembled in my own somewhat jumbled cerebral cortex on December 1, 2006, is the strange result of more than 12 years of continuous golf practice.  During last night’s 3-hour session, however, the value of this cryptic phrase – a virtual operating system kernel, if you will -- became visually and aurally evident to everybody on the driving range, even the better players, as I literally CRUSHED limited-flight range balls into the cool evening air with gracefully effortless power.  (Author’s note:  I’ll provide video evidence in a future piece.  Please, hold your applause.  For now, satisfy your addictive cravings with my old swing.)

Arrogance is quite unseemly, (especially when displayed by American Presidents imitating frustrated Chihuahuas), but I assure you there was nothing ugly about my performance last night at the rock quarry.  As the great Scot Craig Ferguson might say, “Yes, my cheeky little monkeys, Steve Dayton has finally achieved the fundamentally “perfect” golf swing.  I’ve not only seen it with my own Scottish peepers, but I’ve also heard it, and Help Ma Boab did those dimpled little orbs fly!”  Therefore, (my cantankerous little kittens), as a well-deserved reward for your faithful allegiance during my embarrassing adolescence on Useless-Knowledge, I will now reveal my Holy Grail of the golf swing:  Jabberwocky.  (Author’s Note:  Sorry Craig… it’s not my fault Lewis Carroll was a damn Brit.)

 

As with everything regarding the homo brain, which encompasses all conscious acts, language is the absolute key to mastering a complex motion like the golf swing.  There is one gi-normous catch, though:  you will need to invent (roll?) your OWN language, a language functionally similar to the linguistic wackiness found in Carroll’s epic poem.  Yes, (my dutiful donkeys), you will literally have to unsheathe your own “vorpal sword” to conquer golf’s numerous “Jabberwocks“and “Jubjub“ birds.  Indeed, if you are keen to play 18 holes with the big “Bandersnatches,” you may as well pledge allegiance to long hours of “gyre-ing“ and “gimble-ing” in your own confusing “wabe.”

 

You should also begin searching www.Amazon.com to fill your range bucket with as many instructional books and videos as you can get your Vardon-grip on, because you will need these essential dictionaries to build the foundation of your own personal golf compendium.  All of the great golf poets have already spoken, and here is a short list of their better sonnets:

 

Five Lessons: The Fundamentals of Golf, by Ben Hogan;

Golf My Way, by Jack Nicklaus;

 

 

Okay, enough of the funny stuff, because I’m not kidding about this Jabberwocky concept as it relates to hitting a golf ball like Nick Faldo, Ernie Els, or Adam Scott.  The not-so-funny fact is, language was invented to communicate ideas between human brains, and therefore the vast majority of common words and phrases were designed essentially by committee.  Large numbers of people must largely AGREE on what words mean in order for them to find their way into mass-circulated volumes like Webster’s, for example.  For well-defined items like puppies or Purina Cat Chow, words are perfectly adequate to convey an unmistakable sense of meaning.  The real difficulty, as Moshe Feldenkrais pointed out so brilliantly, arises when language is employed to describe physical motion.  As surprising as this may sound, words simply do not exist to adequately describe your own personal feelings and perceptions during even facile movements of your body and limbs.  I could list one hundred examples for the golf swing alone, but a few classics will suffice.  “Rotate your left arm on the downswing.”  There!  Do you understand completely?  Okay then, let’s move on.  “Clear your left side.”  Very good, you’re doing great.  “Stay behind the ball.”  Awesome.  Now you got it.  That will be fifty dollars, please. 

 

What does it feel like when you “rotate your left arm,” or when you “clear your left side” correctly?  For that matter, what the heck does “correctly” mean in this context?  Ask one thousand people and you’ll get one thousand different answers.  Worse still, try to reproduce someone else’s feeling during this critical “clearing” action:  “Yeah, I kinda feel like my hips are sorta turning behind me… kinda like they are rotating or pivoting out of the way, or something.  You know, just like Hogan said with his rubber-band thing, or like Watson said, dancing in a barrel, or whatever.”

 

 

Can anyone accurately describe what striking a single solid golf shot even feels like?  “Oh, that’s easy, dude.  It feels really SOLID.  Like really PURE, you know?  It doesn’t feel CLUNKY or BLADEY at all.  Wait.  I know, I know… It almost feels like the ball WASN’T EVEN THERE.”  Wonderful.  With precise teaching terms like these available to the golfing public, it’s a marvel the locker room at the U.S. Open doesn’t resemble the Super Dome during hurricane Katrina.

 

You cannot see yourself swing the club, and nobody will EVER be able to describe your golf swing feelings for you.  To add insult to injury, your own private feelings will CHANGE from week to week, if you’re lucky.  Some teaching professionals claim that physical sensations change every six holes during a round of golf, on the average.  My own feelings often change from shot to shot, although I’m improving in this regard by trying to adopt a consistent pre-shot routine.  The most exacting pre-shot routine in the Universe won’t help you one IOTA - if you’re already a hacker, unfortunately.

 

You’ll be happy (?) to know that I’ll be writing a book on this “uffish” topic some day, but until then I would simply advise any aspiring single-digit handicapper out there to purchase a spiral-wound notebook or two, and begin jotting down whatever comes into your mind as you rehearse your golf swing movements.  With patience, practice and persistence, your diaries will eventually swarm with words and jargon that will ultimately comprise a personal golf language, complete with nonsensical verbs, nouns, and hopefully, countless “frumious” adjectives.  Soon, on one “brillig” and “frabjous” day, your own “vorpal blade“ will go “snicker-snack,” and as jealous onlookers “Callooh” and “Callay” with each glorious shot, you will truly comprehend the unmistakable meaning of the phrase:

 

“I’m hitting it like Hogan.”