RollinThunder
Assistant Pro
As of late, I've been playing the best golf I have done. I'm hitting the ball well, my short game is coming on, and last week I won my first competition.
I went to the range for my practice session, and out of my bucket of 100 balls, the first 70 were fine. Irons were crisp and straight, and I was even pureing a 4i off the deck. The hybrid and 3W were sweet and straight, and confidence was high. I did notice a slight tendency to pull a few shots, but apart from that, I was hitting the ball beautifully.
Then, out of nowhere, I shanked my 6i. A horrible cracking sound, followed by a very weak flight, spiralling about 50 yards to the right, and about 100 yards forward. I reloaded, and bang, another one. "Come on, calm down", I thought to myself, and I reloaded. Crack, the same again. It was starting to get a bit scary. I switched to my 8i, to try something with more loft, and crack, the same again. I poured half a dozen balls in front of myself, and thought "right, just swing and don't even give yourself time to think, just go for it". By that time, confidence was at an all time low, and it had taken it's toll on the mind. The head was going up, weight was everywhere except the middle of the feet, and the arms seemed to be doing what they liked, which ensued in half a dozen balls of shanks and tops. Like a fool, I poured some more, with the same, devastating results. I should have just gone home there and then, as my mind had gone into self-destruct mode, and taken my body with it.
I checked my grip: nothing wrong as far as I could see, and I was taking practice swings on the mat, focussing on the thud between the club and the mat, then quickly introducing the ball, with no time to think, and the same again; a shank. I just didn't know what was happening. In the space of 10 minutes, I'd gone from being able to choose a target with a 4-iron, to barely even getting the ball off the mat with an 8-iron. I could have cried. I should have changed my name by deed poll to Shanky McShank, and packed my bags to open up a lamb shank butchery in Shankill.
Just out of curiosity, I tried my hybrid. Amongst the shanks and tops, were massive pulls. I gave my 3W a whirl, knowing that I couldn't shank that one, and again, two massive pulls. I'm aware of the link between shanks and pulls, and upon getting home I checked my stance in the mirror. Just as I suspected, my natural set up had progressed to the shoulders being wide open at address, resulting in the dreaded shanks and pulls. I had a swing with a club at home, and already with the shoulders more closed, it felt much better.
I'm not playing at the weekend, so I've got a bit of time for some reflection, but no doubt with my head full of newly-researched drills, I'll end up at the range on Saturday morning. I think I'll watch a film to take my mind off it. I was thinking The Shawshank Redemption 😄. I need to redeem myself after all of those shanks!
What a horrible game eh!
I went to the range for my practice session, and out of my bucket of 100 balls, the first 70 were fine. Irons were crisp and straight, and I was even pureing a 4i off the deck. The hybrid and 3W were sweet and straight, and confidence was high. I did notice a slight tendency to pull a few shots, but apart from that, I was hitting the ball beautifully.
Then, out of nowhere, I shanked my 6i. A horrible cracking sound, followed by a very weak flight, spiralling about 50 yards to the right, and about 100 yards forward. I reloaded, and bang, another one. "Come on, calm down", I thought to myself, and I reloaded. Crack, the same again. It was starting to get a bit scary. I switched to my 8i, to try something with more loft, and crack, the same again. I poured half a dozen balls in front of myself, and thought "right, just swing and don't even give yourself time to think, just go for it". By that time, confidence was at an all time low, and it had taken it's toll on the mind. The head was going up, weight was everywhere except the middle of the feet, and the arms seemed to be doing what they liked, which ensued in half a dozen balls of shanks and tops. Like a fool, I poured some more, with the same, devastating results. I should have just gone home there and then, as my mind had gone into self-destruct mode, and taken my body with it.
I checked my grip: nothing wrong as far as I could see, and I was taking practice swings on the mat, focussing on the thud between the club and the mat, then quickly introducing the ball, with no time to think, and the same again; a shank. I just didn't know what was happening. In the space of 10 minutes, I'd gone from being able to choose a target with a 4-iron, to barely even getting the ball off the mat with an 8-iron. I could have cried. I should have changed my name by deed poll to Shanky McShank, and packed my bags to open up a lamb shank butchery in Shankill.
Just out of curiosity, I tried my hybrid. Amongst the shanks and tops, were massive pulls. I gave my 3W a whirl, knowing that I couldn't shank that one, and again, two massive pulls. I'm aware of the link between shanks and pulls, and upon getting home I checked my stance in the mirror. Just as I suspected, my natural set up had progressed to the shoulders being wide open at address, resulting in the dreaded shanks and pulls. I had a swing with a club at home, and already with the shoulders more closed, it felt much better.
I'm not playing at the weekend, so I've got a bit of time for some reflection, but no doubt with my head full of newly-researched drills, I'll end up at the range on Saturday morning. I think I'll watch a film to take my mind off it. I was thinking The Shawshank Redemption 😄. I need to redeem myself after all of those shanks!
What a horrible game eh!
Last edited: