Upon hearing Brian was coming to Georgia to watch his bayou Bengals meet Digger's Dawgs, I felt it a great chance to finally get with Brian in person. He has helped my game through video and internet site more than many great teachers have in person. Having set up a lunch meeting at, of all places, The Big Easy Cafe, I eagerly awaited meeting Brian in person.
When he walked in the cafe, I first was struck by his appearance. He had the look of a former defensive tackle that had lost a little weight over time, or a cornerback who had gained some weight since his playing days. Very athletic in appearance, and though we only drank iced tea, had a barroom fight broke out, he would be good to have on your side.
After a lengthy conversation of his learning experience with gentle Ben Doyle (worth the cost of the lesson in itself) we then went to a nearby range for the main event.
He wanted me to hit my 7 iron, and as I hit a variety of shots, all of which I meant to go straight, he quietly stalked all around me, saying nothing. He then placed my left hand on the club more diagonal in nature and more in the fingers. At once I felt the hinge freeing up more and felt a little more pop in the strike.
He then pulled out my driver (worst club in my bag) and watched several rope hooks emerge. He then told me to get in my set-up positon and freeze. He then went behind me, grabbed my hips and contorted me into a postion that felt like the John Travolta Saturday night Fever dance position. My goal as I began my swing in what felt like a ridiculus positon was simply not to fall down and whiff the ball. Next thing I knew I was holding a follow thru postition watching the best drive I've hit in 12 months.
He then said" Are you ready to really learn how to swivel?'' As a pull-hooker of the ball, slamming the clubface totally shut is not high on my list. But the man reached into his bag of tricks and finally came up with the swing image needed to get through to me, and before we were through, I was swiveling ridiculous and the ball was going straight. Only maybe an hour into our lesson, he said, "we can stay out here for longer if you want, but you mainly had a nasty grip, a crooked rear end and needed a swivel. You were easy."
One thing I can leave you with that probably says more about the man than anything I can say, was something he said as we were leaving. To exit this particular range, you have to walk dangerously close behind many, many golfers lined up on their respective tee boxes. Because we were set up on the far end of the range, we walked back out past a long line of a myriad of wild hacking golf swings. He looked at the masses and said, "you know, seeing all these lost people makes me feel like a preacher walking on Bourbon Street. So many people in need of being saved, and I just don't have the time to reach them all."
When he walked in the cafe, I first was struck by his appearance. He had the look of a former defensive tackle that had lost a little weight over time, or a cornerback who had gained some weight since his playing days. Very athletic in appearance, and though we only drank iced tea, had a barroom fight broke out, he would be good to have on your side.
After a lengthy conversation of his learning experience with gentle Ben Doyle (worth the cost of the lesson in itself) we then went to a nearby range for the main event.
He wanted me to hit my 7 iron, and as I hit a variety of shots, all of which I meant to go straight, he quietly stalked all around me, saying nothing. He then placed my left hand on the club more diagonal in nature and more in the fingers. At once I felt the hinge freeing up more and felt a little more pop in the strike.
He then pulled out my driver (worst club in my bag) and watched several rope hooks emerge. He then told me to get in my set-up positon and freeze. He then went behind me, grabbed my hips and contorted me into a postion that felt like the John Travolta Saturday night Fever dance position. My goal as I began my swing in what felt like a ridiculus positon was simply not to fall down and whiff the ball. Next thing I knew I was holding a follow thru postition watching the best drive I've hit in 12 months.
He then said" Are you ready to really learn how to swivel?'' As a pull-hooker of the ball, slamming the clubface totally shut is not high on my list. But the man reached into his bag of tricks and finally came up with the swing image needed to get through to me, and before we were through, I was swiveling ridiculous and the ball was going straight. Only maybe an hour into our lesson, he said, "we can stay out here for longer if you want, but you mainly had a nasty grip, a crooked rear end and needed a swivel. You were easy."
One thing I can leave you with that probably says more about the man than anything I can say, was something he said as we were leaving. To exit this particular range, you have to walk dangerously close behind many, many golfers lined up on their respective tee boxes. Because we were set up on the far end of the range, we walked back out past a long line of a myriad of wild hacking golf swings. He looked at the masses and said, "you know, seeing all these lost people makes me feel like a preacher walking on Bourbon Street. So many people in need of being saved, and I just don't have the time to reach them all."
