Bob Starkey Golf Tuition

Putting and Gamesmanship

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 21:24:31 +0200

A successful round of competitive golf is all about grasping the initiative. It's important to realize that this starts the moment you roll up in the car park. Pull your 10.5 inch pure white Ping Tour bag out of a glistening, brand new Toyota MR2 and you're already two holes up on your opponent. Add in a cashmere Pringle jumper, Lyle Scott golden eagle polo shirt, Kangol flat cap, some Farah slacks and a £200 pair of Footjoys and it's as good as a birdie. What I'm talking about is gamesmanship. A system of ploys and stratagems designed to give you an edge in any situation as expounded by self-improvement author Stephen Potter. Golf is ideal for taking advantage of this knowledge and no place on the course allows for more opportunities to scupper your opponent's confidence than the putting green. From Bertie Wooster's 'Old Hickory' to Judge Smail's 'Billy Baroo' it's all there on the green - nerves, superstition, gimmicky clubs and lucky rituals. How easy can it be to break in and stamp on these voodoo rites to success by a well-timed cough, feigned concern for your opponent's concentration or a sudden defensive stroke with your arm to fend off an invisible wasp attack? And remember: if a bit of gamesmanship was good enough for Sean Connery's James Bond in Goldfinger then it should be good enough for you. Invoke the spirit of Terry-Thomas and crack on. Is he bothering you...?

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How to hit it big

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 21:12:48 +0200

Firstly, let's get it straight what I mean about driving - we're talking about the big stick and knocking the ball as far as physically possible. Heroic shots travelling obscene distances. No dainty strategy. No holding back.

I was always a decent club driver - 250 yards no problem, even with my old school laminate #1 - but my tee shots were transformed with the three hours of revelation that I spent with renegade Shaolin monk and big drive guru Tony Ying at his Shaolin Golf Academy in Dewsbury. It's here, amongst the tangerine plus fours and wispy aromatic swirls of joss stick smoke, that Tony applies what he learned at the Shaolin temple in the Chinese province of Henan to the game of golf. Though standing little above five feet, and often playing without shoes or socks, I have seen Tony knock his drives over five hundred yards, no bother, once even greening the 573 yard par 5 4th hole at Waterton Park near Wakefield from the white markers. Believe me – he clouts it

Tony considers the golf drive to be one of the martial arts and it's from this basic premise that I learned to channel my aggression through my driver. Tony taught me that, by the act of meditation, emotions can be directed through the muscles to create latent power. This power is then focused on a distinct point with an end objective in mind.

The first stage in the process is preparation. As you stride onto the tee prepare yourself for the shot. Stand over the ball and enter a trance state. My advice is to consider all the stresses of the day, the petty injustices of your boss at work, the infidelities of a partner or friends. I channel all my frustrations and anger into this moment, chiefly the messy divorce I went through a few years ago and my abiding feelings regarding my blood-sucking slut of a an ex-wife, Sandra. Once you build up the power you can almost feel the pent up energy shivering through your body. It's then that nature demands that you release that power. In this case the focus for release is the ball. The objective is to send the ball down the fairway to a point. Always aim for the flag no matter how unfeasible others might think your ambition is. Remember - power, focus, objective. Get angry, build up frustration - and then do something about it. Let bloody rip. With practice you'll be pitching your drives over 300 yards.

Take that, you bitch!

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Playing out of a bunker

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 20:58:10 +0200

You've just creamed your drive out of sight. The sun is shining, birds are chirruping in the trees, you stride down the fairway ten feet tall, a chilled can of Budweiser in your hand, humming Lou Reed's 'Perfect day'. You feel on top of your game, nothing can go wrong from here on in. You're Seve walking towards the clubhouse at Royal Lytham, the love and adoration of the gallery carrying you on to golfing legend. And then the appalling, heart-stopping consternation as you see it - your ball burrowed deep into a bunker; only its dimpled white backside visible above un-raked, Grade 3 masonry grit. Your shoulders drop, your head goes down. You're in schtook. We've all been there and let's face it - we all hate bunkers. But it's vital that you don't let that hate turn to fear. Confidence is everything. And whether it be T.E. Lawrence astride a camel routing the Ottoman Empire, Field Marshal Montgomery and his desert Rats kicking the smoke out of Rommell and the Afrika Korps, or Sandy Lyle attacking the 18th at Augusta in 1988 - it's a simple historical fact that the Brits have always thrived on sand. Churchill didn't declare that we'd have a settler with Nazi Germany on Brighton beach for nothing, you know? It's there, it's in the blood: Tommy Atkins busting through fortress Europe on the Normandy beaches, 1960s Mods and Rockers leathering the buggery out of each other - beach fights, we love 'em. So step into that fox hole proudly with the strength and pageantry of history in your hands. Channel your hate into cold white anger and blithe over confidence. Blood, sweat, toil and tears... It's Dunkirk spirit time. Plant your feet, open the face, aim for the cup and spank the bugger.

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Foreword

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 14:49:45 +0200

I was sorting through some old boxes in the loft this week and found my well-thumbed copy of Bob Starkey's Hacking to Victory: the club player's guide to golf. I first met Bob Starkey in the summer of 1986. I see him now - pink Argyle cheque Pringle jumper, grey Farah hopsacks, white stuburt's with spats. He took the 7 iron I was holding from my hands without speaking. Demonstrated a text book Vardon grip and then went into the pro-shop for a Marathon. He is a golfing legend. His keen insights and carefully weighted advice have benefitted golfers the length and breadth of Yorkshire for twenty years. Coming on the back of his 1993 Barnsley GC Autumn Medal victory and his overwhelming win in the 1995 Tankersley GC Skoda Scramble, Starkey put together a playing manual with a focused approach designed to appeal to the average club golfer. No ball shaping techniques, no weight distribution tips, no smart bollocks about timing. Bob got down to brass tacks and showed the typical 28 handicapper how to bludgeon their way through 18 holes. This was muscle golf for the Alpha Male. A blue print for hackers everywhere. Strategy is thrown away in favour of brute heroism, Hail Mary drives and unfeasible approach shots against impossible odds. The putting green's tricky breaking play is tamed with what Barnsley's finest calls 'The Kamikaze Stroke'. Starkey declares: 'Imagine the ball is a Japanese WWII Mitsubishi Zero fighter aeroplane. You're strapped into the cockpit and bearing down on the USS Bunker Hill. There's no time for sophistication or complicated techniques. No opportunity to consider the niceties of microclimates and wind direction as the flack bursts all around you. The objective is simple - you're wanting to clart into the ammo store at Mach 1. So line up direct for the conning tower and CLOUT IT!' This is golf as we all play it, fine tuned until hacking becomes an art form.

Undaunted by an expanding waistband, mild alcoholism, three broken marriages and the disintegration of his short game Bob can still be seen giving tips to youngsters and anyone else who'll listen on several courses along the South and West Yorkshire border.

Here we see Bob offer words of wisdom on playing from a tricky lie after a typically wayward 'Howitzer' drive...

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