CALLAWAY Tour ix

This is the ball that so many seem to be talking about. Rocco Mediate says that the Callaway Tour ix is so good, “it should be illegal.”

The Tour ix is a FOUR piece ball, adding a tungsten infused outer core that’s supposed to shift weight away from the center (and adding tungsten certainly would do that), for reduced driver spin and straighter shots. The inner core is still soft, though, for the feel that players today seem to prefer. On the outside is a urethane cover with Callaway’s excellent hex pattern “dimples.”

I’ve been meaning to review the Tour ix, but at $45 a box, it may be a while before I give it a go.

Annika Sorenstam, once the Tiger Woods of ladies golf, went quietly in her final major, finishing in a tie for 24th. In an interview after her round, she said that she thought she still had the skills, but no longer had the desire.

“It is what it is,” she said.

When I hear an athlete say that they’ve lost the desire, I think of Alexander the Great, who wept because there were no more worlds to conquer. Once you have achieved the pinnacle of athletic success, I suppose that there is not much left to drive you.

I wonder: does Tiger also go out on his own terms? Does he break Sam Snead’s PGA Victories record, and Jack’s Majors record and then quit as Annika did? Or does he continue to pile up the numbers. I’ve thought for several years—reading into things Tiger has said—that he won’t play as long as golf fans might like. I can’t see him playing in his 40s, satisfied to take the occasional victory from one of the young guns who he has inspired. Jack did, but he reportedly had money problems. Tiger doesn’t have that to worry about. His billion should last his lifetime, and of his children, grandchildren and longer.

There’s more on Sorenstam’s graceful exit, here.

I’m going to miss Sorenstam on the LPGA scene. I have loved the way she plays and comports herself before, during and after tournaments. I’m just sorry I never got to see her play in person.

And at the risk of sounding sexist, I’ve always thought she was an attractive lady. Not in the bombshell fashion of Natalie Gulbis or some of the lolitas on tour these days, but with a girl next door sort of look. She also was clearly comfortable with herself, as was proven with the now-famous near nude Annika did for Golf For Women.

Eighty five wins. Ten majors. That’s a heckuva career.

CALLAWAY FT-i Squareway Wood with Graphite Shaft

Squareway Wood. Cute name.

Callaway’s “Squareway” design is supposed to position more discretionary weight to the corners of the clubhead, raising the moment of inertia for straighter, more forgiving shots. The club has a stainless steel face, sole and body with a lightweight carbon crown, allowing even more weight repositioning than the shape alone would allow. Callaway engineers have also made the clubhead oversized, for even more stability and accuracy.

If you can get over the odd shape, this might just be the thing for your fairway wood woes.

Detroit News writer Lynn Henning has an article on why the PGA Championship stands alone among the four majors. First, it’s the only one where there are no amateurs. It features the deepest field in golf, with 97 of the top 100 present. And it started as a match play event (and in my mind still should be one).

So much about golf’s major championships is pre-decided and even predictable.

The Masters is “azaleas and dogwood” and Wednesday’s par-3 tournament. It is four great rounds of golf that climax in the sunset of Sunday evening, with a green jacket presented by the defending champion at Augusta National Golf Club.

The U.S. Open is about rough that could bury the wheels of your car. It’s tight fairways and slick greens and pin placements decided by Jack the Ripper.

The British Open is wind and sea water and gorse and men rumbling “well played” from the gallery as they watch, appreciatively, a nervous man hole a 3-footer with a 40-mile gale in his face. British Isles patrons soak up the drama from another carefully defined sequence of specific courses deemed worthy of “The Open Championship.”

The PGA Championship is, different—delightfully different, for the most part. It might be played anywhere from Kemper Lakes in suburban Chicago to Sahalee outside Seattle, or, at a hallowed championship course that has hosted U.S. Opens and Ryder Cups: Oakland Hills, for example, where this year’s PGA Championship will be played.

John Huggan of the Scotsman thinks that the PGA Championship is the weakest of the four majors, lacking any real identity:

Let’s face it; the US PGA is lucky to be a major in the 21st century. Were the four quarters of what was once called the “Impregnable Quadrilateral” chosen again tomorrow, surely only two of today’s constituent parts would make the cut. Joining the two Opens, the PGA Tour’s flagship Players Championship and a travelling World Match Play Championship would better reflect the modern golfing world. A brace of majors in the United States, one in Great Britain and the fourth moving between the likes of Australia, South Africa and, the way things are going, China, is at least less biased than the status quo, three of the four majors played in the same country.

As with many classic courses, tee follows closely on green on my local favorite. While this makes it very easy to walk, it also makes it somewhat easy to hit someone loitering between holes.

So it was that as I lined up my approach shot on the seventh hole last evening, I noticed a guy sitting on the bench between holes. His legs were crossed, he was wearing a wide brimmed hat, and he didn’t look like he was paying any attention. He also didn’t seem to have a set of clubs.

One of the locals, I thought, enjoying the night air.

I swung, and the ball headed left—my usual miss. As I made my follow through, I glanced right to the bench—and the guy was gone.

That was very odd, because I had looked away only for a second. Moreover, there’s no place for anyone to go. There are no woods to hide in—just a couple of isolated trees. The nearest substantial cover is too far away for anyone to reach in that period of time, even if they ran.

I kept scanning the area as I got closer, but he never did reappear.

A trick of the light, I supposed. A shadow that against the setting sun, looked like a man. And one that disappeared as soon as I shifted position.

But still a bit unnerving.

I ended up with a double bogey.

Bratz Sportz Golf Cloe Doll

Ridiculous Golf Item of The Week