
I have become a golf nerd. Oh, sure- I dress in neatly pressed khakis. a contrasting golf shirt with some sort of fancy logo on it and really cool two-toned golf shoes, complete with the requisite soft spikes. I usually top this elegant ensemble off with a cap bearing the name of some golf manufacturer who has charged me $21.95 for the privilege of advertising his product line on my head.
There's not a knock-of club in my bag. An Adams Tight Lies fairway wood, Carbite golf putter, Spalding Top Flite irons and an Alien Sport wedge
are my principle weapons, all of which perform as their manufacturers say they will, my skill level notwithstanding. Recently, though, my clubs have found themselves in the unsavory position of having to share space in their fancy-schmancy golf bag with the ultimate symbol of golf nerdiness- a ball retriever. The retriever became part of my arsenal after a recent round, during which I put so many Top Flite Stratas and Spalding Molitors into the water, the Environmental Protection Agency is considering fining me for violating some obscure balata ands surlyn pollution laws.
In defense of my ball retriever, I should point out that this orange-headed answer to the computer geek's pocket protector is 19 feet
of telescoping golf ball rescuing power, although I must admit, I have yet to hit a ball in the water since I've added the silly thing to my golf bag, which is something I couldn't say with a straight face before I got the ball retriever.
Still, I can't help feeling as though there's something nerd-like about having a ball retriever in your golf bag. Tiger Woods doesn't have a ball retriever in his bag, after all. On the other hand, Tiger gets his golf balls for free and couldn't contractually carry a ball retriever in his bag unless it had Nike logos plastered all over it. In fact, non of the PGA Tour pros carry a ball retriever. And the tour pros, after all is said and done, the barometers by which we measure what's cool and what isn't when it comes to equipment and apparel. I could almost guarantee you if Phil Mickelson showed up on some TV commercial during a tournament
(especially if Phil was winning said tournament)and said “HI! I'm Phil Mickelson and when I hit the ball into the water, I reach for my Callaway PM 2000 Ball Retriever”, sales of ball retrievers would skyrocket. Put late-night infomercial on the air featuring some washed-up, has-been ex -tour player touting the virtues of this “latest breakthrough in golf technology” and you won't be able to keep up with the telephone orders, especially if, somewhere in the infomercial, you mention the word titanium, and that by having the ball retriever in their bag, golfers can lower their score by 8-10 shots per round and add 50 yards to their drives. Slap a four easy payments of $39.95 price tag on the thing, toss in a logo headcover and the damned things would sell themselves.
But alas, the lowly ball retriever isn't cool enough to garner endorsements from big-time PGA Tour pros. It will most likely be a snowy day at Augusta National before we see the likes of Sergio Garcia endorsing as nerdy as a ball retriever.
Although the way Sergio has been playing lately, you never know…