A little long, but very poetic. Guaranteed to make your wife weak in the knees (if she looks like Rene Russo).
Thanks to Lachman for the suggestion.
"What Is The Golf Swing?"
by Roy McAvoy
I think of the golf swing as a poem.
The opening phrase of this
poem will always be the grip.
The hands unite to form a single
unit by the simple overlap of the...
...little finger.
Lowly and slowly...
...the club head is led back, pulled
into position not by the hands,
...but the body, which turns
away from the target,
...shifting weight to the right side
without shifting balance.
Tempo is all, perfection unattainable,
as at the top of the swing...
...there's a hesitation,
a little nod to the gods.
A nod to the gods?
To the gods that he is fallible.
That perfection is unattainable.
Weight shifts to the left pulled
by the powers in the earth...
...it's alive, this swing,
and a sculpture...
...and down through contact...
...striking the ball crisply...
...with character.
A tuning fork goes off in
your heart, your balls...
...such a pure feeling is
the well-struck golf shot.
Then the follow-through to finish...
...always on line.
The reverse-C of the Golden Bear...
...the steelworkers' power and
the brawn of Carl Sandburg's...
...Arnold Palmer!
And the unfinished symphony of...
...Roy McAvoy.
What's unfinished?
I have a short follow-through.
It has an unfinished look.
Why?
Some say it's the easiest way to
play in the winds of west Texas...
...some say it's because I never
finished anything in my life.
You can decide. But the point is...
...every finishing position is unique.
That's what the golf swing's about.
It's about gaining control
of your life and...
...letting go at the same time.
There's only one other acceptable
theory about how to hit the ball.
Grip it and rip it.
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