EL PASO, Texas (KTSM) — Golfers, by nature, would probably not be very good disciples.
I’m sure there are plenty of us out there that are devout, church-going people. But as the Epistle to the Romans tells us, “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.”
Why?
Every golfer is a chronic dissident of the second commandment – “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.”
In other words, God doesn’t like when you idolize someone or something else.
Unfortunately for the Holy Spirit, we all have other golfers we want to swing, dress, and play like. It’s a time-honored transgression, spanning as far back as history can remember. Some grew up on “Ben Hogan’s Five Lessons”, others had “Jack Nicklaus’ Lesson Tee” comics, and lots of us have worn out our Seve Ballesteros’ “The Short Game” tapes.
During certain points of Tiger Woods’ illustrious career, the whole “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” commandment didn’t stand a chance either.
As for myself, I would have spent many a hour in confession for idolizing the swings of more than a few of the professional golfers on television.
The first I can remember vividly was the eclectic swing of Bubba Watson, who entered the wider golfing lexicon after he was fitted for his first green jacket at the Masters in 2012.
Bubba and I share a lot of similarities. For one, we’re both left handed (or “wrong” handed depending on which jokester you run into on the driving range or golf course). He and I are also self taught golfers. His father taught him the game in his youth, but as of 2024, he has never had a professional golf lesson. In interviews around the subject, he seems to take pride in being self-taught.
Bubba Watson watches his shot off the 15th tee during the second round of the Travelers Championship golf tournament at TPC River Highlands, Friday, June 25, 2021, in Cromwell, Conn. (AP Photo/John Minchillo)
When you visit a friend’s home who completely redid their bathroom using nothing but Home Depot YouTube tutorials, those of us who are self-instructed can’t help but tell you all about it.
Bubba’s swing looks so dysfunctional that anyone could make it work. At the top of his backswing, the club is so far above his head it nearly touches the ground on the other side. His left elbow flies so far outside that it looks like Barry Bonds is preparing to launch a fastball into McCovey Cove. And his front-side knee bends so far, so it’s a wonder he and Tiger haven’t shared a surgery room at some point.
I tried every part of it, and more than a half-dozen years later, I’m still trying to break some of those habits.
In my early golfing life, I tried to soak up anything Phil Mickelson had to say about the short game. As someone who struggled to find any piece of useable land off the tee to hit my second shot, it became apparent that I would only score with my wedges.
I’ve watched Mickelson’s “Secrets of the Short Game” instructional video enough times to recite some lessons. Unlike some of Bubba’s swing traits, Mickelson’s were much more attainable and are still part of my thought process today.
FILE – Phil Mickelson celebrates after winning the final round at the PGA Championship golf tournament on the Ocean Course, Sunday, May 23, 2021, in Kiawah Island, S.C. (AP Photo/Chris Carlson)
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that part of the genius of the second commandment is that idols are not perfect. Why would you want to swing like someone who has as many relative faults in their swing as you do?
Today, I’ve taken a more piecemeal approach to the golf swing. Only parts of swings have made cameos in mine.
Four-time major winner Rory McIlroy’s finish has been a fascination of mine for a long time. There is something very aesthetically pleasing of the way he lashes at a drive, and then poses over his front leg as if he didn’t just swing faster than most of our cars can go. That’s balance.
Rory McIlroy watches his tee shot on the second hole during the first round of the BMW Championship golf tournament, Thursday, Aug. 17, 2023, in Olympia Fields, Ill. (AP Photo/Charles Rex Arbogast)
13-time PGA tour winner Jason Day has my favorite chipping motion in the game right now. While I still take mental cues from Lefty, Day has the most sound motion on tour. It seems like any shot inside of 70 yards, from any lie, in any condition, is almost a certainty to end up within one-putt range.
Jason Day, of Australia, waves after making a putt on the 18th hole during the weather delayed first round round at the Masters golf tournament at Augusta National Golf Club Friday, April 12, 2024, in Augusta, Ga. (AP Photo/George Walker IV)
He might also have my favorite outfits on tour, but hat’s a discussion for another post.
All of these people – Watson, Mickelson, McIlroy, Day – have something in common. They all do, and have done, things I will never do in the game. I don’t have a personal connection to them. And none of them were the person who originally got me into golf.
I was reminded of that person not once, but twice after I posted my first “Let’s Play Nine!” blog last week.
My mom, arguably my biggest critic, texted me no less than a half hour of that blog post going up on KTSM.com saying, “Don’t forget to include your cousin as inspiration lol.”
In an equally embarrassing insinuation, that aforementioned cousin also texted me. “No mention of the big cuz?????? No mention of us going to hit balls behind the middle school with your dad’s old clubs[?]”
There was, in fact, no mention of “the big cuz.”
That would be former golfing professional Charles White. Not the kind of pro golfer you find on the many tours around the world – the kind you find helping grow and teach the game at golf courses and driving ranges around the country. It’s safe to say that Cousin Charles changed my golfing life more than any tour player or dime-a-dozen swing instructor ever could.
Charles and my Aunt Charlene lived more than three hours away from my house growing up, so we never got the opportunity to see him in golf competitions. When he moved out to college at Coastal Carolina he continued his education, briefly brushed elbows with a young Dustin Johnson, and continued playing in organized tourneys. From what I understood, Charles was a very good player.
But what does a “very good player” mean to someone like myself at the time that didn’t really know the difference between a seven iron and a sand wedge? What does a “very good player” look like? What does it sound like?
The first time I remember having all of those questions answered was a late summer afternoon in the very field where many years later I would start to take my own swing seriously. He and I decided to take some of my dad’s old clubs and head up to the middle school’s soccer pitch and try to hit as many balls into a trash can that we could.
I was under the impression that we were going to set the can up at a reasonable distance so that we could actually make some shots. Instead, Charles set the bin up on the far goal line, walked to the opposite goal line, went another 20 yards further, and dropped the bag of balls we had. I gawked at the distance. It must’ve been at least 120 yards. I wasn’t even sure anyone could hit a ball that far.
Just goes to show how much I knew.
Charles took some sort of short iron, probably a traditionally lofted pitching wedge, and started firing balls into the air. I can’t remember if any actually went in the trash can. I wasn’t focused on that. I was mesmerized with the flight of the golf ball. It seemed to launch like Evil Knievel going off a ramp at 100 miles an hour. Then, it would float for just a split second. It suspended itself higher than most infield pop-ups I had ever caught and then fell back to earth. Every time it seemed to have a chance at hitting that can.
When Charles would make impact with the ball, it sounded like a bolt of lightning shot out from the club head. A perfectly rectangular wad of turf would fly out in front of him and land with a soft thud in the dried-out summer grass.
What a sight that was.
Some time passed before Charles and I would hit golf balls again together. It could’ve been months, but it was probably more than a year. This time we were at a more customary golf setting – the local driving range. He had brought his own clubs and I brought mine. While I marveled at his display of speed and power with a driver in his hands, I was equally frustrated and self-conscious that I couldn’t get my dad’s old clubs to work the same magic he had.
Hell, mine weren’t even getting up in the air!
Charles saw I was struggling and getting a bit red-faced and came over to my hitting bay.
“Take a swing,” he told me.
I swung. The ball trickled away as if I had just tried to lay down a sacrifice bunt up the first base line. That’s when my entire golf life changed. Not a single person on the planet, professional or otherwise, has made a bigger impact on my game than the interaction that took place in the following seconds.
Charles perked his brow in confusion, “Don’t you bat left-handed?”
“Yeah,” I replied. I knew where this conversation was going.
“Why don’t you make your golf swing left-handed?”
We rummaged around the bucket of dumpy clubs at the range and found the only left-handed iron they had. Suddenly, the entire sport opened up in front of me.
Since that day I’ve had the chance to play a round with my cousin on a few occasions. I had been playing rounds on my own and with some friends fairly seriously for about a year-and-a-half before my family went to go see him and his fiancé at the time at their home in West Palm Beach, Florida. We woke up early one morning to play a course right inside the complex he was staying at. Despite building the course for senior citizens, with no forced carries off the tee, and fairways with landing areas wider than Hudspeth County, I stunk.
Playing next to a guy that was hitting driver and then a wedge into every hole, I looked like a fish out of water. I really wanted to impress Charles that day. He was essentially the one that had gotten me interested in the game in the first place. He was the guy I sent all my swing videos to.
It didn’t happen that morning. So when we decided to go back out again later I was just hoping to not be a total embarrassment. I wanted to redeem myself in front of the person who basically saved my golfing life.
The first hole of the course we played was a fairly standard par 4. It dogleged left about 200 yards off the tee, then continued on for another 100 to a raised putting surface protected by a large bunker and some trees on the right side. For legitimate players like Cousin Charles, it was a driver over the houses down the left side, cutting the corner to leave yourself a flip wedge to the fairly unassuming green.
For me, it was a topped driver, then a shanked midiron. That left me with an awkward 70 yard sand wedge from some fluffy rough. It’s not the hardest shot in golf by any means, but in front of your golf idol and after two duffed shots beforehand, just picking up the club right is an accomplishment.
Just get this up there and don’t hurt anyone, I told myself before taking the club back. I made crisp contact with the ball and managed to land it on the green. It rolled over a crest in the green where I lost sight of it as it trickled down towards the hole.
KTSM’s Ian Roth poses with his cousin, Charles, after a hole-out birdie.
“Oh it went in,” my Aunt Charlene cried from the golf cart behind the hole. Cousin Charles laughed and clapped. I walked up to the green beaming from ear-to-ear knowing I’ve never made the score I just did.
“That’s my first birdie,” I told Charles as I dipped my hand in the hole to pull out the ball.
“Really!? We have to take a picture!”
We took a picture that my aunt eventually printed out for me to put in my room.
It was only appropriate that the man who literally set me up on the proper side of the ball was there to see two of my major golfing accomplishments.
I think if it wasn’t for my golfing idols I wouldn’t have been as passionate about the game as I am today. Sure, Holy scripture may not love the idea of putting other up on a pedestal. I’d hope that somewhere we could make an exception if that idol is family.
If not, that’s fine. Golfers would be bad disciples anyway.
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