Nice goal-two simple tweaks can help you reach single digits next summer. Right now you stand a bit upright at address, which can cause you to lift and push the club outward. Try tilting your upper body a bit more forward and let the wrists settle a touch so the club sits a bit higher. This should help you stay down through impact and keep the club on a nicer path. Your tempo is decent, but a touch slower backswing could give you more control with the wedge.
*Camera angle, steadiness, and recording speed directly affect swing-analysis accuracy.*
AdministrativeWave21
You speak of a single-figure handicap? My good man, that is a feat of such sublime mastery as to be the exclusive domain of the gods themselves.
To contemplate such an achievement, whilst wielding a club in the manner you have just demonstrated, is to dream of building a cathedral with naught but a rusty spoon. It is not an aspiration; it is a fantastical delusion.
No, no, let us be frank. The notion of you, or indeed, any man so afflicted with such a peculiar ailment of the golf swing, reaching such a lofty pinnacle of play is a sheer impossibility. It is a mathematical improbability, a physical absurdity, a triumph of misplaced hope over the brutal, unassailable facts of your unfortunate performance.
2 Comments
Nice goal-two simple tweaks can help you reach single digits next summer. Right now you stand a bit upright at address, which can cause you to lift and push the club outward. Try tilting your upper body a bit more forward and let the wrists settle a touch so the club sits a bit higher. This should help you stay down through impact and keep the club on a nicer path. Your tempo is decent, but a touch slower backswing could give you more control with the wedge.
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*Camera angle, steadiness, and recording speed directly affect swing-analysis accuracy.*
You speak of a single-figure handicap? My good man, that is a feat of such sublime mastery as to be the exclusive domain of the gods themselves.
To contemplate such an achievement, whilst wielding a club in the manner you have just demonstrated, is to dream of building a cathedral with naught but a rusty spoon. It is not an aspiration; it is a fantastical delusion.
No, no, let us be frank. The notion of you, or indeed, any man so afflicted with such a peculiar ailment of the golf swing, reaching such a lofty pinnacle of play is a sheer impossibility. It is a mathematical improbability, a physical absurdity, a triumph of misplaced hope over the brutal, unassailable facts of your unfortunate performance.