Article #27
Featured Teacher: Jitterbug
To meet this week's teacher, or to purchase a copy of MUNIE ~ The Jitterbug Collection, go to www.bobbysteiner.com
To say Jitterbug taught me golf is to leave a great deal out. He taught me as much about life, or rather, inspired me to teach myself.
When I think of Jitterbug, he always brings to mind a character that might be most brilliantly played by Morgan Freeman. Not just in appearance, but also the calm, quiet certainty with which he conducted himself, whether shooting sixty-four-or seventy-four. He once told me, "How you play golf shows a little about your character, how you lose at golf shows every bit of it."
I remember golfing with Jitterbug the day after I shot my first ever round in the sixties. I could hardly wait to share the story of my personal triumph with the man who'd shown me so much along the way.
Just before we were to go out as a two-some, and before I could go into detail about my great round, a young lady came walking down to the tee. We welcomed her in and she introduced herself as Karen.
After watching us tee off, I could tell Karen was nervous. "Guys, I'm not that good. I sure hope you're patient," she said.
We encouraged her to take her time and not to hurry.
Karen took a practice swing before dribbling her drive some eighteen to twenty feet, barely clearing the teeing ground. "Whoops! Sorry guys. Look, if there's something I'm not doing right, feel free to tell me," she said.
That was all I needed to hear. This was my chance to show Jitterbug how far I'd come. Karen appeared to be athletic, and I knew I could sort out her troubles in a matter of seconds.
I started with her grip. After that, I corrected her posture, alignment, pivot, weight transfer, forearm rotation, and finish. But, it didn't matter what I said, for fourteen painful holes she didn't get one ball in the air. The more I asked her to relax, the tighter she held the club.
After Jitterbug and I hit our tee shots on the par three fifteenth hole Jitterbug stood motionless as Karen made her way to the ladies tee.
"What are you waiting for?" I asked.
"I'm waiting for you take the handcuffs off that young lady."
"Whoa, wait," I said. "She asked for help on the first tee."
"You're exactly right, Bobby, the first tee, not the first fairway, the first green, the second tee, and every time she stopped to hit the ball since then."
Karen arrived at her tee before looking back to ours.
"Okay. Now what?" she asked, expecting the barrage of instruction to continue.
Not sure what to say, I looked at Jitterbug who suddenly took on a different demeanor.
Smiling, he said to her, "I think Bobby finally figured out what's wrong, Karen. If you don't mind Bobby, I'll tell her what you said."
Before I could reply, he'd walked over to join Karen. "What other games have you played before?"
She answered, "Well, softball, and…"
"Softball? Perfect! Let me see you swing that club like you was swingin' at a softball."
She took a swing as if reacting to a pitch down the middle of the strike zone.
"Wonderful!" Jitterbug said. "Now, show me how you'd hit a low pitch, say, down around ya ankles."
She tilted beautifully, took the club back with poise and grace, and swung freely all the way to a complete finish. She stood there in perfect balance, as if imagining the line drive she'd driven deep to centerfield.
Jitterbug took a ball out of his pocket and placed it on a tee.
"Here, hit this low pitch," he said.
Things suddenly changed. Her white knuckles turned pink as she loosened her grip. Her arms hung freely. She stayed steady as she turned away from the ball, returning to impact with the explosive combination of power and clubface, neither of which she'd successfully delivered all day.
Her ball took off as if shot from a cannon, still climbing as it neared the green. She looked at Jitterbug as if he'd returned her lost child.
Before she could say anything, Jitterbug said, "You were right, Bobby. That's exactly what it was." He then turned to Karen. "Now, just remember to hit that low pitch for the rest of the day and you can work on all that other stuff when you have the time to practice."
When Karen was no longer in earshot, I said, "Jitterbug, I suppose the lesson here is that I was talking when I should have been listening."
"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Maybe you was just too busy tellin' to ever think about askin'."
Jitterbug nodded, then winked. "But you gonna be fine," he said. "A fella can't never figure out the right way if he don't know all about the wrong way."
Karen finished her round with the confidence that she could play golf, and I, reminded of what I'd always known-that Jitterbug is a true mentor, a man with whom I'll always be proud to walk the fairway.