Moment of Impact

Out at the golf hut, girded against the frigid winds blowing in from Minnesota, we practice with the concentration of meditating monks, one swing of the club at a time. When he’s done, I invite him to watch me for a while. Usually after a few minutes, he’ll go back to swinging and I’ll sit and watch him. We speak few words. Both of us share an enjoyment of pure ball striking, as well as a healthy loathing for putting.