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The value of paying attention. When I was just a sprout I thought that a good way to increase my golfing IQ was to caddy for a playing professional. After about 6 events I reached the conclusion that there had to be an easier way!

It is an amazing thing when a fundamental piece of the golfing puzzle connects with a distant memory. It reinforces the wisdom of our mentor Mr. Kelley when he stated that golf can only be learned, not taught.

Anyway back to the story. I was caddying for a friend who had recently turned professional. I believe the event was the 1992 South African Masters at Dainfern CC, just outside of Johannesburg. We were paired with Retief Goosen for the first two rounds. Of course at the time he too was a neophyte to prize fighting, albeit with a higher pedigree than my man. In fact there were many people in amatuer circles that identified Retief as being every bit as good as Ernie. That morning, or perhaps the day before, Retief had sliced his right index finger while changing a grip, or something. He showed up to the practice tee with a splint over the tip of his injured finger. Well, he proceeded to put on a ball striking clinic over the next couple of days to the utter amazement of those who saw it. If memory serves me correctly he shot 71 67 (with an uncooperative putter I might add.) Nobody (with the exception of a fellow by the nane of Wayne Westner) compressed the ball better than Retief that week.

We played pretty well to shoot 72,70 and made the cut. While bouncing down the fairway attempting to keep balanced with the ridiculously heavy staff bags of the day I sidled up to him to ask how he was able to hit a golf ball that well with only 8 fingers (his thumb and index finger never really touched the grip.) Being a man of few words he shot me a wry smile and said in his thick Afrikaans accent "These fingers have little to do with it, china." That was it! If my incubator had been plugged in I would have hit 1,000 balls with my thumb and index finger off the grip. Perhaps I would have "discovered" as if for the first time in history the self-evident PP3. Like Mr. Kelley did. Uncovering truth is always accompanied with a sense of serendipidy, like we somehow knew it before. By the way Ernie won that week. I do not recall what Retief shot on the weekend. I prefer to forget what "we" shot!

This brings me to the moral of my story. One of the hallmarks of champions in all walks of life is that they recognize the very distinctive sound of truth, much like the sound of a penny dropping! They trust what IS and dispense with everything else. Echo chambers for truth as it were. I wonder who made us that way?

Since discovering TGM I have found myself compelled to pour over the many instructional volumes I have indigested over the years. In fact, Hogan's Five Fundamentals reminded me of the PP3 story. Most of these books had traces of truth in them, but few used a workable vocabulary. Even Hogan stated something to the effect that the game is simple just not the explanation! No wonder Mr. Kelley referred to the book as the Duffer's Bible. It is a comprehensive approach with integration at its heart. It reminds me of the medieval concept of a university, the synthesis of unity out of diversity. Fragmentation is destruction...you never quite get anywhere...never knowing where you are going...and vague as to where you have been.

Parting memory. I remember the day I was beating balls like the possessed man of Gadarenes to discover that I could hit these really nifty cut shots starting with a slightly closed clubface at address. My conventional thinking could not reconcile the apparent contradiction and I was convinced that my swing was in jeopardy! Tilt! Tilt! Tilt! Of course, I was HITTING with an ANGLED HINGE! Duh! My kingdom for a time machine! Still, figuring stuff out is a lot of fun.

Okie out