Dear Pards,
I can’t chip.
Off the tee, I’m fine. My irons are honestly pretty good. I’m a 15 handicap, and for about 140 yards of every hole, I look like one. Then I get within 20 yards of the green, pull out a wedge, and look like prime golf Barkley crossed with Frankie Borelli.
It’s been going on for years. I skull most of them, screaming across the green into whatever or whoever is on the other side. When I’m not skulling it, I’m chunking it two feet. (That’s two feet, not TO two feet) If I hit ten chips, maybe one or two come off the way they’re supposed to. And even "supposed to" is relative.
I’ve chugged the Kool-Aid of every YouTube instructor there is. It all seems to help until it doesn’t. I’ve tried quieter wrists, different setups, different balls, different grinds. All to the extreme. As soon as Pelz starts to work, it doesn’t, and I take too much of the Mayo medicine to try and get me right.
At this point I’m not trying to hit a good chip. I’m trying not to hit a bad one.
If I could just get the ball on the green and somewhere near the hole, I’d be shooting in the low 80s. I know I would. It’s the only thing standing between me and the golfer I know I am.
Please help. My playing partners have stopped watching, and at this point it’s a little awkward.
-Blading it in Biloxi
Dear Blading it,
Other than your index, I see a ton of me in you as I read about your chipping yips struggles.
It is often hard for me to find an in-between. I’m either eating Rocky Mountain oysters and raw kale on a silent retreat or bear-hugging the tub of Toll House cookie dough in front of a screen before bed.
These days, that temp-control screen on my dash says either HI in the morning or LO in the afternoon. Who uses that auto button? As if anything good could come from a gradual change up to a desired level, only to then flatten out to comfort.
I, too, watch one Joe Mayo video, and my mitts are practically touching the turf in front of the ball next time I chip. That is, until I stick one of them into the ground and switch to putting everywhere with a 3-wood.
As a man who’s been cursed blessed with the all-or-nothing trait, some things probably should favor some sort of middle ground. Don’t confuse this for passivity. I applaud your pursuit of a better short game. I do believe some calls in life warrant an all-or-nothing mentality. A man’s protein intake and his hands at address, however, are not one of them.
Quit searching for a quick fix and pull out a mirror before your lob wedge. You may be trying to get back to someone who, from what it sounds like, never existed in the first place.
Go get a lesson, practice, and start walking, not running, to a life of peace and low nippers.
P╞r╠℮P.S. The stamp at the top of the newsletter is a sneak peek of the art in this month’s mail club, by Dave Baysden. Shoutout to Jared, the first reader to respond last week, for what course and hole it is.
If you made it all the way to the end of [checks notes] two weeks ago’s newsletter, you may have noticed an unintentional cliffhanger and abrupt end to the text.
There was no hidden meaning. It was just the result of my twenty-month-old scaling the side of her high chair, screaming “cookie,” and me forgetting to come back and finish my thought.
I was in the midst of hinting at some big behind-the-scenes changes for me and the brand. At this point, I’m starting to feel like Scott O’Neil with all tease and nothing to show for it. Still, I hope to have real news in the next week about an acquisition that doesn't involve BC Partners.
That announcement may or may not have a positive impact on the future of the mail club, which I have not forgotten about this month. I wrote a letter to Fall golf, paired with a few bangers from Dave Baysden. Go join it if you haven’t already. You’ll get it around the end of the month.
In the meantime, I’m trying my best—like all of us—to be an exercising, balanced-diet-eating husband, father, realtor, writer, cattle owner, & golfer. One day at a time.
Thankful you’re here.
