Your Golf Bud
by Bud Key, Mid-Atlantic Director, TeeTime Golf Pass
Favorite Club Capable of Amazing Feats
Past cultures paid homage to their deities and the powerful weapons they commanded — think of Zeus’s thunderbolt, Poseidon’s trident, Thor’s hammer, or King Arthur’s Excalibur. In the world of golf, a similar reverence exists for certain storied “armaments.” Clubs like Bobby Jones’s “Calamity Jane” putter, Ben Hogan’s “Equalizer” wedge, and Gary Player’s “Little Slammer” 5-wood are already cemented in the game’s lore. Interestingly, many golfers today — especially bad ones — possess a club they personally regard as worthy of such legendary status.
We often give these cherished clubs affectionate nicknames, much like Judge Smails’ “old Billy Baroo” hickory-shafted putter from Caddyshack. Earning this coveted honor takes years, countless rounds and many fortunate shots. Eventually, a trusted putter becomes “Old Faithful,” a well-worn wedge gets dubbed “Scoop Dogg” or “Squidward” (a reference to Bikini Bottom), and a frequently re-gripped driver becomes “Sister Sledge” or the “Grim Ripper.”
Not all club monikers are complimentary, though. Among my regular foursome, for instance, you’ll encounter “David Hozzelhoff” (a chronic shank-inducing 5-iron), “Little Caesar” (a 3-wood which mostly delivers slices), and the “Big Sneeze” (an unruly driver which makes us cover our mouths to hide our laughter).
However, I’m more interested in the truly magical clubs. Consider the vintage 7-wood — a relative of Old Tom Morris’s baffing spoon — that my best friend rescued from a $5 clearance bin years ago. He confidently pulls it out whenever he’s in trouble. With it in hand, he escapes knee-deep rough, sails over tall Loblolly pines, and plays balls so far from the beaten cart path that even the onboard GPS can’t locate them. This relic seems to defy the laws of physics. It’s equally effective for putting from the fringe, executing bump-and-run shots from two fairways over, getting out of traps and bunkers, and handling any pressure-laden approach from 50 to 180 yards.
Just last week he sent me a picture of his ball sitting one foot from the cup. “My birdie putt after pulling the driver into the muck and mire at hole 16,” accompanied the text. I didn’t need to be there to know which club he has used on his recovery shot to avoid bogey or worse.
Yet, this 7-wood of his has a significant drawback. Because he uses it so frequently and openly, everyone in his Sunday-after-church group now carries a similar club. Its mystique, and his competitive edge, are gone.
I, too, have my own favorite club. But unlike my friend, I limit its use to just a couple of times per round to keep its bewildering powers a secret. I reserve it for when it truly counts: occasionally from behind a tree, sometimes to escape a particularly nasty lie in the sand or rough, and when I need to squeeze out a few extra yards off the tee to gain bragging rights for that day’s longest drive. It shaves a few strokes off my score each round and is the most forgiving club in my arsenal, even when struck off the heel or toe.
I’ve been hesitant to officially name it. Patent and copyright infringement lawsuits can be complicated, according to my lawyer son. But damn if “FootJoy” doesn’t have a nice ring to it, assuming it hasn’t already been claimed.
Bud Key is TeeTime Golf Pass’s Mid-Atlantic Director and a former magazine editor with decades of golf writing experience. Your Golf Bud is his ongoing column on the game, the people who play it, and everything in between.
