Swingthoughts: face the truth, part I

Lately I have been coming to terms with an ugly truth about myself, and my face. It's closed.

It all started a couple months back. I began to notice that I could not seem to hit a ball from an open stance. For the life of me, just couldn't do it. A closed stance was the only position from which I could feel like anything resembling a golf swing was physically possible. What's worse, over time the stance seemed to want to close more and more, even with the shortest of irons.

The week in Legitimategolf, early fall edition

Frankly I did not really feel like playing this week. No, check that. I didn't much feel like getting on the train or the bus and communing with New Yorkers, and then being on the course and getting all huffy over slow play and what not. However, there is a blog to maintain. So I did it, pushed myself out the door, just for you.

"2 Teams, 1 Cup" 2014 Edition

I have no interest whatsoever in any of the pre-Ryder Cup hype or the weeks-long buildup, but when the event actually begins I can't help but to watch with some interest.

It's hard for me to attach any kind of patriotic zeal to sporting events--I tend to watch with the disinterest of an extraterrestrial, coldly observing human behavior. Let's face it, the guys on the US team have more in common with the guys on the Europe team than they do with you, or me. But still, US vs. Europe is an interesting golf rivalry in that a clear pattern has emerged lately, in which the tormentor has become the tormented. Comeuppance, in a sporting context, is all in good fun.

Roadgolf: The Architects GC, Phillipsburg NJ

For the past couple of years I've been celebrating birthdays by burning rubber out of the city and playing a round of civilized golf with Ms. L, on a course that's a little more upscale than I'm comfortable with. Last year was New Jersey's Crystal Springs resort; the year before that, Jack Nicklaus' Mansion Ridge in the Hudson Valley. For someone who's never really been too interested in birthday celebrations, this is shaping up to be a real treat and something I actually look forward to.

This year I picked out the somewhat pompously-named Architects club, located on the westernmost edge of New Jersey, right up against the Pennsylvania state line. (To completely escape the reek of the city, you have to drive for at least an hour.)

The Legitimategolf Reality Tour, volume 1

Mr. F was understandably hesitant to have his actual identity associated with this blog, but there's his hat sitting in the rough.

Over the weekend I had a visitor. One of our brave readers from south of the Mason-Dixon came up to the city for a bit of adventure, personal edification, some light tourism, and to experience first-hand a slice of ghetto golf life.

Due to circumstances we ended up playing Dyker Beach twice in three days. Not the best itinerary, but perhaps good for my Southern friend in that this would at least offer him a deeper, rawer, more immersive experience. This is after all the ground-zero of ghetto golf in the Americas, in my opinion.

Inching towards summer's end

I am now in full longing for cooler weather and all the goodness it brings to golf courses everywhere. I now daydream about beanie hats and long sleeves; about saying "F off" to the sunscreen, bermuda shorts, all the thrice-a-year golfers that gum up the works during peak season.

Still, we are talking about clinical addiction here. As much I'd like to blow the whole thing off until around October, needs must be met. So it's back to Silver Lake.

Penalized in the Poconos

The Pocono Mountains are located in northeast Pennsylvania, about an hour and a half from New York City.

Around here the name Poconos is generally synonymous with alpine fun and good times, located within a sensible distance of the big cities. As a non-native New Yorker I had always assumed that it was a place to be. A destination if you will.