according to mrs. totally titleist, i tend to be a bit of a windbag. ask me what time it is and i will tell you how to build a watch. that’s my nature. it’s what windbags do, or rather --cannot stop doing.
at this stage of my life there are few things i truly look forward to more then loading my titleist tool kit into the back of my car and escaping the day-to-day grind in favor of a short vacation to the range or golf course, where i can privately immerse myself in the artfulness of swing therapy. the problem is, i can’t escape enough which is essentially why i started posting words on this site -- figuring, this crowd more so then most and certainly more so then mrs. totally titleist, might be somewhat inclined to tolerate my windbaggy nature. this is not say i don’t expect to be warned, reprimanded, threatened, threatened some more and eventually booted off this site for saying the wrong thing at some point.
writing is something of a stack and tilt exercise, held together by tempo. once i became acquainted with my literary swing, i was able to develop tempo, better control my misses and craft the kind of shots i lay in bed thinking about, although who is to say how this potluck of words turns out?
before i could post stuff on this site i was asked to select a screen name. i selected totally titleist for a couple reasons; a public display of affection for a brand i proudly call my own, and as a kind reminder to those whose livelihood is contingent on censoring what gets posted on this blog and what doesn’t, that i was a titeista just like them. so in the event that i happen write something that lacks the daily congeniality requirement, having used up all my last chances, please consider giving me one more before kicking me to the curb. hence the name, totally titleist.
but there was a problem. i wasn’t being totally honest. i wasn’t totally titeist. i had another brands wedges in my titleist tool kit... and, if that wasn’t enough, a knock-off newport 2 putter. this makes me a fraud. it is simply wrong to go by the handle totally titleist whilst running about town with
another brands wedges hanging out of my titleist bag. it’s just wrong. and my heart just couldn’t take the turmoil anymore, so much so that living with myself had become near impossible.
for this, i am truly sorry.
the whole thing came to a crescendo this morning. enough was enough. i needed to cleanse my soul, so i jumped into my car, threw in a one hit wonder cd i bought my mrs. as a lark a few years ago, cranked up the tone loc on my logic7 sound system and booked it straight to the golf church formally known as the roger dunn golf shop, where i bought two vokey design spin milled wedges, 54.11 and 58.08. that’s right. two. i purchased them with little fanfare, then i immediately pinned in back to the barn and began writing this post, taking long breaks to sip a particularly lovely distiller’s edition single malt and hit cat toys into my mrs.’s flower pots with my new sticks. i love em’. they’re oil cans... and they’re spectacular.
after i submit this post i intend to head over to scotty cameron dot com and begin drooling over the prospect of owning a custom black newport 2 with the bethpage black warning sign putter head cover. so until that particular scotty putter is hanging out of my titleist denim carry bag, maybe we ought to hang a roger maris-type asterisk(*) over my totally titleist screen name and call it a work in progress.