OUR
REGULAR GAME NO. 14
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Its most
common name conjures up such dread that it’s almost never spoken out
loud. Instead, it’s
referred to by various euphemisms, usually accompanied by an unprintable
adjective. Some of these
aliases are pretty imaginative: hosel rocket, lateral, pitchout, and
necking with the ball.
I’m referring, of course, to the shank.
(Can you even say that word in print?)
With the possible exception of the three-putt, there is nothing in
golf that can destroy a player’s bladder control as quickly.
For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about
(and it’s hard to imagine any golfer old enough to vote who doesn’t),
the word refers to a shot that flies at a near 90 degree angle to the
right of its intended target — unless you’re left-handed, in
which case it flies that far offline to the left.
It is a shot that will produce an instantaneous response from the
player, the happiest of which is a loud “Oh, shit!”
Often referred to in the plural (because, like the famous potato
chips, you can’t have just one), the shanks are, it seems, inevitable.
I don’t know of any experienced golfer who hasn’t been plagued
by them at least once, if not, regrettably, far more frequently than that.
The immediate physical cause of a shank is contacting the ball with
the extreme inside of the clubface, at the neck, which propels it almost
straight sideways rather than forward.
Not only is the result unsightly, but I can assure you from
experience that it feels equally unpleasant, much like a broken bat single
for you baseball players out there.
Most golf pros will tell you that the shank comes about because we
cast the club from the top, or swing “over the top,” as they say.
Basically, that means that we’re swinging down with the arms too
quickly, before shifting our weight. The problem is that the very first
shank arouses more anxiety than seeing your wife having lunch with your
mistress. Which only makes you swing even more quickly.
Which (you know this is coming) only makes you shank even more.
It ain’t a pretty thing, I promise you.
I’ve gotten the shanks so bad I’ve stood on the practice tee
and hit as many of thirty or forty pitchouts in a row.
The shanks are like the hiccups: Everyone’s got a different cure.
Swing slower. Swing
faster. Set up with your
weight on your back foot. Address
the ball on the toe of the club. (I’ve
addressed the ball, alright, but nothing I could repeat here.)
I’ve even tried to cure the shanks by drinking a glass of water
while holding my nose. I
figure, if it works for the hiccups, maybe it’ll cure the shanks, too.
The best tip to cure the shanks that I ever got, which I’m proud
to share here, was to get my weight at address back on my heels.
That eliminates the impulse to swing from the top.
Don’t worry about why. Just
try it; it works.
And if it doesn’t, trying holding your breath for a minute or
two.
For our Regular Game, this is Mike Veron, hoping the flagstick gets
in the way of all your shots.
About the Author
J. Michael Veron is the acclaimed author of The
Greatest Player Who Never Lived and The
Greatest Course That Never Was. His third novel, tentatively titled
The Caddie, is scheduled for release in the spring of 2002.
Mike's work has earned him the title of "master
of fiction" from USA Today, and Travel and Leisure Golf Magazine
has called him "The
John Grisham of Golf." In addition, the New York Times hailed The
Greatest Player as "Golf's
Literary Rookie of the Year," and the Seattle Times ranked The
Greatest Player as second on its all-time list of "Five Wonderful
Golf Books." At one time,
The Greatest Player and The
Greatest Course were the first and third best-selling sports fiction
in the country.
Please contact us
for more information on Mike and his work.
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