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The Great Golf Thaw or How I Emerged From Hibernation

Spring is finally here, and after months of golf withdrawal, it’s time to shake off the rust and embrace the glorious return to the course!

Published

3 months ago

March 11, 2025

Ty Webb

Well, fellow frostbitten golfers, we did it. We survived. Read my last article. The brutal winter storms, the months of indoor putting drills, the soul-crushing agony of watching tournament replays instead of actually playing—we’ve endured it all. And now, like a long-lost Pro V1 finally found in the rough, we emerge from the icy grip of winter, ready to reclaim our place on the golf course.

Spring is here. The fairways are thawing, the greens are almost puttable, and for the first time in months, your golf clubs are seeing sunlight instead of just gathering dust in the garage. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves—returning to the course after a long winter is a journey, one filled with hope, horror, and a whole lot of rust to shake off.

Step One: The Reunion (and the Lies We Tell Ourselves)

The moment you open your golf bag for the first time since December is emotional. It’s like seeing an old friend after years apart, except this friend has been through a rough patch—probably still covered in last season’s mud, with a faint odor of stale beer and regret. You whisper sweet nothings to your 7-iron, reassuring it that this year will be different.

And then, the self-deception begins.

“This is the year I fix my swing.”
“I’m going to take my time on the greens.”
“I won’t buy new clubs to solve my problems.”

Lies. All lies. But they feel good, so we roll with them.

Step Two: The First Round Back (a.k.a. The Humbling)

Ah, that first round of the season. You arrive at the course feeling like a golfer reborn, visions of smooth swings and perfect tempo dancing in your head. And then… reality strikes.

Your first tee shot? A low screamer that barely clears the forward tees.
Your second shot? A chunked iron that travels six feet.
Your third shot? A desperate attempt to remember how golf works.

By the back nine, you accept your fate: golf is hard, and winter made it harder. But hey, at least you’re out here, breathing in fresh air instead of screaming at your TV over a missed putt on The Golf Channel.

Step Three: Spring Course Conditions (a.k.a. Golf, But Swampier)

Spring golf is not for the faint of heart. The grass is patchy, the fairways are damp, and every bunker feels more like a quicksand trap. Your ball might plug so deep in the fairway that you need a search-and-rescue mission just to find it. And don’t even get me started on the greens—putting on spring grass is like rolling a marble across shag carpet.

And yet, we persevere. Why? Because the alternative is waiting another month, and that’s simply unacceptable. So we slip, we slide, we take relief from whatever casual water situation is happening in the fairway, and we celebrate the simple fact that we are golfing once again.

Step Four: The Delusional Season Goals Begin

With spring’s arrival comes the most dangerous part of the golf season: optimism. Suddenly, every golfer is convinced that this is their year.

“I’m finally going to break 80.”
“I’ll practice every week.”
“I’m getting a lesson to fix my slice.”

Of course, within weeks, we’ll be back to our usual antics—binge-watching golf tips instead of practicing, blaming our putter instead of our stroke, and deciding that a $600 driver is the real key to improvement. But until then, we dream big.

Step Five: The Pure Joy of Golf’s Return

Despite the struggles, the rust, and the inevitable reality check that winter stole whatever shred of talent we had left, nothing compares to that first round back. The feeling of walking the fairway, of nailing a solid iron shot, of draining a putt (even if it’s for double bogey)—these are the moments that make the long, cold months worth it.

So dust off those clubs, book that first tee time, and embrace the chaos of early spring golf. You may not break 80, you may not even break 100, but one thing’s for sure: it’s better than being stuck inside dreaming about it.

Welcome back to the course, friends. Let’s make this season one to remember. (Or at the very least, one to survive.)

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One of the Greatest Putts in U.S. Open History?

JJ Spaun’s 64-Foot Walk-Off

Published

1 day ago

June 16, 2025

James Fairway

When JJ Spaun stood over a 64-foot birdie putt on the 72nd hole of the 2025 U.S. Open at Oakmont, few could have predicted what would come next. The ball meandered across the slick green, trickling over every contour, picking up speed at the crest, and then—like it had GPS—dropped center cup. Spaun dropped his putter, raised his arms, and the crowd erupted. With that single stroke, he claimed his first major title in one of the most dramatic finishes in U.S. Open history.

But how does Spaun’s putt stack up against other legendary finishes in the tournament’s storied past? Let’s break down some of the most iconic moments and see where this one lands.

1. Payne Stewart – 1999 U.S. Open at Pinehurst

Perhaps the most iconic putt in U.S. Open history came from Payne Stewart, who nailed a 15-footer for par on the 18th to win by one over Phil Mickelson. The pose—fist pump and outstretched leg—has since been immortalized in a statue at Pinehurst. What made it legendary wasn’t just the putt—it was the context: Stewart’s final major before his tragic death just months later.

Verdict: Iconic and emotional. Spaun’s putt was longer, but Stewart’s was more poetic.

2. Tiger Woods – 2008 U.S. Open at Torrey Pines

Woods drained a 12-foot birdie on the 72nd hole to force a playoff with Rocco Mediate—while basically playing on one leg. That tournament went to sudden death after an 18-hole playoff, and Tiger prevailed. This was peak Tiger drama, pain and all.

Verdict: Spaun’s putt was longer, but Tiger’s win was sheer willpower and mystique.

3. Jack Nicklaus – 1972 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach

With a 1-iron shot that hit the flagstick on 17 and a crucial birdie putt on 18, Jack sealed a dominant win. His precision and timing under pressure showed why he’s the GOAT.

Verdict: Not a putt for the win, but a signature finishing statement from Jack. Spaun’s was more electric in terms of pure putter drama.

4. Ben Hogan – 1950 U.S. Open at Merion

Hogan’s 1-iron into the 18th fairway and the par to force a playoff—just 16 months after a near-fatal car crash—remain legendary. He won the playoff and completed one of golf’s great comeback stories.

Verdict: Larger-than-life comeback. Spaun’s putt had more flair, but Hogan’s win was heroic.

5. JJ Spaun – 2025 U.S. Open at Oakmont

Let’s not underestimate what Spaun accomplished. The pressure was immense. He wasn’t the favorite. And on the most treacherous greens in golf, he buried a 64-foot bomb—a putt most players would be happy to lag to within 5 feet—to win the U.S. Open outright.

Verdict: For distance, surprise, and drama, Spaun’s putt may be the most shocking winning stroke in U.S. Open history.

Final Thoughts

JJ Spaun may not have the résumé of a Nicklaus or Woods, but for one Sunday afternoon in June 2025, he created a moment that will live in golf lore forever. Spaun’s putt was longer than Stewart’s, more unexpected than Tiger’s, and more dramatic than any final-hole finish in recent memory.

In terms of pure clutch putting? It might just be the greatest walk-off in U.S. Open history.

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The Zen of the Shank: Finding Inner Peace in Your Worst Shots

Find your inner peace even when you aren’t playing well.

Published

1 day ago

June 16, 2025

Ty Webb

Ah, the shank. That glorious, unpredictable misfire that sends your pristine golf ball screaming sideways, often directly into the unsuspecting shins of your playing partner, or perhaps, with a touch of poetic irony, into the very lake you’ve been trying to avoid all day. Most golfers, bless their earnest little hearts, view the shank as a catastrophic failure, a blight upon their scorecard, a testament to their inherent lack of coordination. They curse, they throw clubs, they contemplate a career in competitive thumb-wrestling. But not I. No, my friends, for I, Ty Webb, have found enlightenment in the humble shank.

You see, the shank is not a mistake; it’s a revelation. It’s the universe’s way of reminding you that control is an illusion, that perfection is a myth, and that sometimes, the most direct path to your goal is, in fact, a wildly indirect one. Think of it as a philosophical detour, a sudden, unexpected journey into the unknown. One moment, you’re aiming for the green, a paragon of precision and intent. The next, your ball is ricocheting off a tree, narrowly missing a squirrel, and landing, by some divine comedic intervention, closer to the hole than your perfectly struck drive ever would have. Is that not a miracle? Is that not a sign that the golf gods, much like life itself, have a wicked sense of humor?

The key, my dear apprentices of the links, is acceptance. Embrace the shank. Welcome it with open arms, like a long-lost, slightly inebriated relative. When that familiar, sickening thwack echoes through the air, do not despair. Instead, take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Feel the gentle breeze on your face. And then, with a knowing smile, open them and observe the chaos you have wrought. Is it not beautiful in its own chaotic way? Is there not a certain freedom in relinquishing control, in allowing the ball to choose its own destiny, however bizarre that destiny may be?

Some say the shank is a sign of poor technique. I say it’s a sign of a vibrant, untamed spirit. A golfer who never shanks is a golfer who has never truly lived, never truly explored the outer limits of their own golfing absurdity. They are content with mediocrity, with predictable trajectories and mundane outcomes. But you, my enlightened few, you understand that the true joy of golf lies not in the score, but in the story. And what a story a good shank can tell.

So, the next time you feel that familiar tremor of a shank brewing, don’t fight it. Let it flow. Let it be. For in the heart of every shank lies a lesson, a laugh, and perhaps, just perhaps, a path to a lower score you never saw coming. After all, as the great philosopher Basho once said, “A flute with no holes, is not a flute. A donut with no hole, is a Danish.” And a golf game without a shank? Well, that’s just not golf, is it?