Bad Golf...

Fred Shoemaker, my golf coach for the next three days, hands me a five iron and turns on his camera. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says offhandedly, “hit a ball.” It would be easier, I think to myself, for me to hit the ball with his camera. That’s the kind of golfer I am, which is why, I guess, I’ve come to his three-day golf school in beautiful Carmel Valley, California. I have come because when it comes to golf – and maybe a lot of other things, too – I am, to use the technical term, a mortifying incompetent.

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