Don't Wake Me While The Putts Are Falling

I know you don't want to hear about my golf game but, if you've come this far into cyberspace, indulge me for a moment.

I'm making putts these days.

Not a few of them. A lot of them. I lean over a 15-footer and think it's going in.

That may not be a big deal to you. Maybe you were blessed with the putting gene but I wasn't. My father, it should be noted, carries a long putter and a short putter and often switches from hole to hole, depending on his mood and the amount of break facing him.

I've always wanted to be a good putter, annually making a vow to practice putting more, and it never happens. The practice nor the getting better, which some have said could be related.

But now, just about the time golf season is going into hibernation unless we have a better winter than last year, I'm rolling the rock, to invoke a cliche. It won't last, it never does, but it sure is fun right now.

What changed?

Todd Smith, who's off to Champions Tour qualifying school this week, got tired of watching me three-putt a while back and gave me a simple 1-2-3-4 routine that works. I look at the hole (that's one), look back at the ball (that's two), take it back (that's three) and hit it (that's four).

Teachers will tell you it's not a routine if you have to think about it and it's reached the point where it's almost a habit now. And there's no more comforting feeling in golf that hitting a putt then looking up to see it dead on line, especially if you've got a feel for the speed.

I've marveled for a while now at how my 15-year old nephew, Jake, putts. He hits it, fully believing it's going in every time and when he misses, he doesn't bother to line up the five-foot comebackers. He just stands over them, slams them in and goes to the next hole. He's too young to know better.

Right now, I know how he feels.

No wonder he smiles so much.