Article #48
Title: Lord Berry (Excerpt from MUNIE ~ The Jitterbug Collection)
To meet this week's teacher, or to purchase a copy of MUNIE ~ The Jitterbug Collection, go to www.bobbysteiner.com
I didn't have to tell anyone. Everyone already knew.
It was written all over my face, and evident in my body language. My every nervous flinch carried with it the obnoxious odor of impending failure.
I tried everything. I stopped lifting weights for fear that my hands were losing sensitivity. I stopped drinking coffee and tea. I even considered the possibility that I was in the early stages of some debilitating condition that would eventually leave me without the use of my arms. The bottom line: I couldn't make a short putt and it was becoming increasingly painful to even try.
Oh, there was plenty of free advice available, and I'd given most of it at least half a try. But nothing made sense. Nothing, that is, until the day I shared the practice green with a retired Englishman named Clayton "Lord" Berry.
Lord Berry was a twenty-year resident of the Blue Ridge Mountains, but his lack of Southern hospitality told all who met him that he wasn't "from these parts." Lord Berry took great delight in other people's struggles and loved nothing more than the opportunity to publicly undress one's morale.
Lord Berry wasn't a teaching professional by trade or affiliation, but that didn't stop him from offering advice to anyone whose method he felt needed improvement. Tall and lanky with a pointed chin and a huge Adam's apple, Lord Berry walked slowly, and even more slowly, it seemed, if he was in front of me when I was in a hurry.
Although not a particularly great ball striker, Lord Berry twice took Jitterbug to extra holes in the club championship. Most locals considered him the best putter within five counties.
"What are you trying to do?" Lord Berry asked me in the scornful tone that had become his trademark.
"I'm trying to make some putts," I said.
"You're not trying to 'make' anything," Lord Berry said. "You're trying desperately not to 'miss.'"
Lord Berry was the last guy I'd ever look to for advice. I avoided making eye contact, hoping he'd get the hint and leave me alone.
"I'm sorry, Bobby, I didn't hear you," he said. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind repeating yourself."
"You didn't hear me because I didn't say anything! Look, you practice your way and I'll practice mine." I kept my head down, hoping the interrogation would stop.
"Let me guess," he said. "You're keeping your head down and your weight a bit forward. You're making sure your arms hang naturally so that your putter is soled squarely on the green. I suspect you've also thrown into this putting 'stew' of yours some thoughts of taking the putter back with a minimal amount of wrist-hinging with hopeful intentions of returning it through in the same manner. Did I leave anything out?"
Embarrassed, I said, "No, I think that's about it."
"Oh, I disagree," he said. "There is something very important that's been left out."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"The hole! You've forgotten about the hole."
That seemed ridiculous. I knew I hadn't forgotten about the hole.
"My problem doesn't have anything to do with the hole," I said. "I've just gotta practice until I get my touch back."
"Uh huh, I see. You're looking to regain some lost 'touch,' is that it?"
"OK, Mr. Berry, what's your point?"
"The point is that even the best putters miss more putts than they make. But you, on the other hand, you think you should make every putt you stand over. And when you don't, you immediately assume it was some type of mechanical flaw in your stroke. You might find you have plenty of 'touch' if you spent more time thinking about the hole and less time thinking about your stroke. You are so consumed with 'not missing' that you've lost sight of what a good attempt is. I suspect you hate putting."
Well, maybe I did hate putting, but I'd had enough. I looked at my watch. "Oh my gosh!" I said. "Is that the time? Looks like this session is over. I'd like to stick around but I won't. Thank you. Good bye!"
I went in the clubhouse and sat down until Lord Berry went off the first tee. When I went back out, I saw Jitterbug.
Just as I was about to say hello, Jitterbug motioned for me to look at the kids from the afternoon clinic practicing on the putting green. All six kids were holing putts from everywhere. I was amazed to see how well they putted, but I wanted to tell Jitterbug about my experience that afternoon.
With a manufactured smile, I said, "You should have heard what Lord Berry tried to tell me about…"
"Man, these kids can really putt!" Jitterbug interrupted. "You know why kids are such good putters?"
"No."
"Look at 'em," he said. "See how they look at the hole? They can't take their eyes off of it. They act like they're gonna sneak up on it or something."
I watched them all. They seemed to be entranced by the hole with their tongues upside-down as they squared up to putt.
"The problem with most adults is that they don't never look at the hole. They're too busy looking at themselves, wondering whether or not they got their bodies right. By the time they stroke the ball, they're too paralyzed to move. Yes sir, Bobby, good putters are thinking about the hole. Bad putters are thinking about the way they're gonna stroke it."
There was a moment's pause. "I'm sorry," Jitterbug said. "I interrupted you. What was you saying about Lord Berry?"
A little ashamed of how I'd acted, I said, "Ahh, nothing."
"Well, if Lord Berry was trying to teach you about putting, I suggest you take some time out and listen."
The entire experience left me wondering how many precious gems of advice I had missed out on in my life because I didn't see eye-to-eye with the teacher. That marked the beginning of the end of my struggles.
For archived tips, go to http://www.jitterbugbook.com/tip_of_week.cfm