Opinion & Analysis
A golfing memoir in monthly tokens: August

As some might say, if you don’t take the plunge, you can’t taste the brine. Others might not say such a thing. I’m taking the plunge, because I want to taste the brine. Here you’ll find the seventh installment of “A Golfing Memoir” as we trace a year in the life of Flip Hedgebow, itinerant teacher of golf. For January, click here. For February, click here. For March, click here. For April and May, click here. For June, click here. For July, click here. In advance of August, we apologize for the abundance of italics. Grace and Flip have a LOT to say to each other.
Flip: Johnny Farrell and Willie Macfarlane were the only two golfers to defeat Bobby Jones in playoffs for major championships. Both did it in the US Open, or Jones would have six medallions. Macfarlane did it in 1925, at the Worcester Country Club in Massachusetts. Farrell pulled it off at the Olympia Fields Country Club in Illinois. For each, it was his only major title.
Grace: Why should their names enter your head, on a night like this one?
I think about long shots, and impossible odds, and overcoming the improbable, and realize that those things apply to life and relationships, in addition to golf. Now it’s your turn. Is it all right if WHO comes and stays for a few weeks?
Nobody, really. His name is Ramón. He teaches high school and shoots golf courses. I don’t really remember how I know him, but we stay in touch. He would like to see the courses of this region, beginning with Klifzota. He has good stories, and catches angles with his camera. Now I remember where I met him. He took a photo of me at
Sleepy Hollow, along the Hudson. Just me and my caddy, walking toward the river.
Anyway, I can tell him “No” if you like.
No reason to do that. We have plenty of room here. He’ll find a lot of courses to shoot. I can connect him with some of the private ones, too. When do you expect him?
Next week. The second week of August. Just before he returns for the
beginning of the school year. Will that be all right?
Absolutely. I’ll ask the front desk to make the reservation.
To us, it was obvious that things between Grace nee Agnes and Flip nee cirE had progressed to a point of confused adoration. That there was a cosmic connection within the pair was undeniable; many had been similar connections, that failed to stand the test of time and humanity. which direction would theirs take?
Speaking of names …
Yes, I ought to touch on that, right?
Unless you plan to continue as Agnes, I’d agree.
The woman that you first knew as Agnes Porter, my grandmother, was Grace
Éimí Seáin the first. She came to America from the county of Meath, from where the river turns. It’s not as romantic as Donegal, nor as feisty as Sligo, nor as well-known as
Cork. She had a daughter, who had me. My mother disappeared, away with the mists of time. We don’t, well, I don’t talk much about her. We are no longer a we, now that my grandmother is away on those same mists.
I won’t lie. I love the name Grace, and I’m intimidated by diacritical marks.
Plain accent marks won’t do for you, I see. Diacritical marks, they are, then?
Anyone who might have caught a drip of the conversation, should have dismissed it as harmless banter. For the advancing couple, it was more. Flip had once heard a student discuss love languages, at a moment of extraordinary success during the language. He himself manipulated the term into life languages, and recognized music, words, physical movement, and quiet perception as four of them.
Flip played no instrument beyond harmonica; he had picked one up to have something to do, when the mood imposed itself. He wasn’t interested in composition, nor in collaboration. He liked that he could create musical sounds and continuities by simply inhaling and exhaling. He also liked that it was not unwieldy, nor did it demand the synchronization of mind, heart, and hands. The only act that Flip caused with those three elements, sent a small, white orb sailing high into the sky.
Grace did have some musical inclination. Her grandmother, Agnes the earlier, had introduced her to Ireland’s national symbol, along with the mandolin and the bodhrán. “On the under-surface, you need to be gentle, and the harp provides that. Beneath that, you need to be fierce, like the energy you use to strike the bodhrán. As for dexterity, that is what the world must see in you, and the mandolin offers all that you require.” And thus it went. Grace mastered each in her manner, enough that she could lay claim to the promises made by her grandmother. They helped to shape her form and her manner, and laid a foundation for expression. She learned the dances as well, but those were much more private, and she kept them to herself.
When she entered the corporate world, the lessons of her grandmother revealed their application. Movement across offices, factory floors, and board rooms made itself easier, thanks to the hops and lifts, and bended knees, that she learned in her jigs and reels. When solutions were needed, she quieted her mind with the harp’s echo. She conceived plans, backed by the mandolin’s agility. And when Grace needed to enforce a decision, she summoned the force of the bodhrán’s cipín.
On this evening, there was no audible music for Grace and Flip. The Strangers, the local band made up of spanglers, session players, and rhythm-carriers, had finished its second set a half-hour prior. What there was, came from the swollen creek, the emerging insects and night critters, and the percussion of tires and footsteps against the gravel roads of Klifzota. Together, they traversed fairways instilled with the early dew.
Grace would not return to her guest quarters, nor would Flip make the ascent to his home on the gentle hill. Together, they would find a place where hearts meets, beneath an August moon. They would begin a new day beneath an August sun, unsure of where this collaboration might lead, yet eager to risk its path.
Art by JaeB
Opinion & Analysis
The 2 primary challenges golf equipment companies face

As the editor-in-chief of this website and an observer of the GolfWRX forums and other online golf equipment discourse for over a decade, I’m pretty well attuned to the grunts and grumbles of a significant portion of the golf equipment purchasing spectrum. And before you accuse me of lording above all in some digital ivory tower, I’d like to offer that I worked at golf courses (public and private) for years prior to picking up my pen, so I’m well-versed in the non-degenerate golf equipment consumers out there. I touched (green)grass (retail)!
Complaints about the ills of and related to the OEMs usually follow some version of: Product cycles are too short for real innovation, tour equipment isn’t the same as retail (which is largely not true, by the way), too much is invested in marketing and not enough in R&D, top staffer X hasn’t even put the new driver in play, so it’s obviously not superior to the previous generation, prices are too high, and on and on.
Without digging into the merits of any of these claims, which I believe are mostly red herrings, I’d like to bring into view of our rangefinder what I believe to be the two primary difficulties golf equipment companies face.
One: As Terry Koehler, back when he was the CEO of Ben Hogan, told me at the time of the Ft Worth irons launch, if you can’t regularly hit the golf ball in a coin-sized area in the middle of the face, there’s not a ton that iron technology can do for you. Now, this is less true now with respect to irons than when he said it, and is less and less true by degrees as the clubs get larger (utilities, fairways, hybrids, drivers), but there remains a great deal of golf equipment truth in that statement. Think about it — which is to say, in TL;DR fashion, get lessons from a qualified instructor who will teach you about the fundamentals of repeatable impact and how the golf swing works, not just offer band-aid fixes. If you can’t repeatably deliver the golf club to the golf ball in something resembling the manner it was designed for, how can you expect to be getting the most out of the club — put another way, the maximum value from your investment?
Similarly, game improvement equipment can only improve your game if you game it. In other words, get fit for the clubs you ought to be playing rather than filling the bag with the ones you wish you could hit or used to be able to hit. Of course, don’t do this if you don’t care about performance and just want to hit a forged blade while playing off an 18 handicap. That’s absolutely fine. There were plenty of members in clubs back in the day playing Hogan Apex or Mizuno MP-32 irons who had no business doing so from a ballstriking standpoint, but they enjoyed their look, feel, and complementary qualities to their Gatsby hats and cashmere sweaters. Do what brings you a measure of joy in this maddening game.
Now, the second issue. This is not a plea for non-conforming equipment; rather, it is a statement of fact. USGA/R&A limits on every facet of golf equipment are detrimental to golf equipment manufacturers. Sure, you know this, but do you think about it as it applies to almost every element of equipment? A 500cc driver would be inherently more forgiving than a 460cc, as one with a COR measurement in excess of 0.83. 50-inch shafts. Box grooves. And on and on.
Would fewer regulations be objectively bad for the game? Would this erode its soul? Fortunately, that’s beside the point of this exercise, which is merely to point out the facts. The fact, in this case, is that equipment restrictions and regulations are the slaughterbench of an abundance of innovation in the golf equipment space. Is this for the best? Well, now I’ve asked the question twice and might as well give a partial response, I guess my answer to that would be, “It depends on what type of golf you’re playing and who you’re playing it with.”
For my part, I don’t mind embarrassing myself with vintage blades and persimmons chasing after the quasi-spiritual elevation of a well-struck shot, but that’s just me. Plenty of folks don’t give a damn if their grooves are conforming. Plenty of folks think the folks in Liberty Corner ought to add a prison to the museum for such offences. And those are just a few of the considerations for the amateur game — which doesn’t get inside the gallery ropes of the pro game…
Different strokes in the game of golf, in my humble opinion.
Anyway, I believe equipment company engineers are genuinely trying to build better equipment year over year. The marketing departments are trying to find ways to make this equipment appeal to the broadest segment of the golf market possible. All of this against (1) the backdrop of — at least for now — firm product cycles. And golfers who, with their ~15 average handicap (men), for the most part, are not striping the golf ball like Tiger in his prime and seem to have less and less time year over year to practice and improve. (2) Regulations that massively restrict what they’re able to do…
That’s the landscape as I see it and the real headwinds for golf equipment companies. No doubt, there’s more I haven’t considered, but I think the previous is a better — and better faith — point of departure when formulating any serious commentary on the golf equipment world than some of the more cynical and conspiratorial takes I hear.
Agree? Disagree? Think I’m worthy of an Adam Hadwin-esque security guard tackle? Let me know in the comments.
@golfoncbs The infamous Adam Hadwin tackle ? #golf #fyp #canada #pgatour #adamhadwin ? Ghibli-style nostalgic waltz – MaSssuguMusic
Podcasts
Fore Love of Golf: Introducing a new club concept

Episode #16 brings us Cliff McKinney. Cliff is the founder of Old Charlie Golf Club, a new club, and concept, to be built in the Florida panhandle. The model is quite interesting and aims to make great, private golf more affordable. We hope you enjoy the show!
Opinion & Analysis
On Scottie Scheffler wondering ‘What’s the point of winning?’

Last week, I came across a reel from BBC Sport on Instagram featuring Scottie Scheffler speaking to the media ahead of The Open at Royal Portrush. In it, he shared that he often wonders what the point is of wanting to win tournaments so badly — especially when he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t lead to a truly fulfilling life.
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“Is it great to be able to win tournaments and to accomplish the things I have in the game of golf? Yeah, it brings tears to my eyes just to think about it because I’ve literally worked my entire life to be good at this sport,” Scheffler said. “To have that kind of sense of accomplishment, I think, is a pretty cool feeling. To get to live out your dreams is very special, but at the end of the day, I’m not out here to inspire the next generation of golfers. I’m not out here to inspire someone to be the best player in the world, because what’s the point?”
Ironically — or perhaps perfectly — he went on to win the claret jug.
That question — what’s the point of winning? — cuts straight to the heart of the human journey.
As someone who’s spent over two decades in the trenches of professional golf, and in deep study of the mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of the game, I see Scottie’s inner conflict as a sign of soul evolution in motion.
I came to golf late. I wasn’t a junior standout or college All-American. At 27, I left a steady corporate job to see if I could be on the PGA Tour starting as a 14-handicap, average-length hitter. Over the years, my journey has been defined less by trophies and more by the relentless effort to navigate the deeply inequitable and gated system of professional golf — an effort that ultimately turned inward and helped me evolve as both a golfer and a person.
One perspective that helped me make sense of this inner dissonance around competition and our culture’s tendency to overvalue winning is the idea of soul evolution.
The University of Virginia’s Division of Perceptual Studies has done extensive research on reincarnation, and Netflix’s Surviving Death (Episode 6) explores the topic, too. Whether you take it literally or metaphorically, the idea that we’re on a long arc of growth — from beginner to sage elder — offers a profound perspective.
If you accept the premise literally, then terms like “young soul” and “old soul” start to hold meaning. However, even if we set the word “soul” aside, it’s easy to see that different levels of life experience produce different worldviews.
Newer souls — or people in earlier stages of their development — may be curious and kind but still lack discernment or depth. There is a naivety, and they don’t yet question as deeply, tending to see things in black and white, partly because certainty feels safer than confronting the unknown.
As we gain more experience, we begin to experiment. We test limits. We chase extreme external goals — sometimes at the expense of health, relationships, or inner peace — still operating from hunger, ambition, and the fragility of the ego.
It’s a necessary stage, but often a turbulent and unfulfilling one.
David Duval fell off the map after reaching World No. 1. Bubba Watson had his own “Is this it?” moment with his caddie, Ted Scott, after winning the Masters.
In Aaron Rodgers: Enigma, reflecting on his 2011 Super Bowl win, Rodgers said:
“Now I’ve accomplished the only thing that I really, really wanted to do in my life. Now what? I was like, ‘Did I aim at the wrong thing? Did I spend too much time thinking about stuff that ultimately doesn’t give you true happiness?’”
Jim Carrey once said, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”
Eventually, though, something shifts.
We begin to see in shades of gray. Winning, dominating, accumulating—these pursuits lose their shine. The rewards feel more fleeting. Living in a constant state of fight-or-flight makes us feel alive, yes, but not happy and joyful.
Compassion begins to replace ambition. Love, presence, and gratitude become more fulfilling than status, profits, or trophies. We crave balance over burnout. Collaboration over competition. Meaning over metrics.
Interestingly, if we zoom out, we can apply this same model to nations and cultures. Countries, like people, have a collective “soul stage” made up of the individuals within them.
Take the United States, for example. I’d place it as a mid-level soul: highly competitive and deeply driven, but still learning emotional maturity. Still uncomfortable with nuance. Still believing that more is always better. Despite its global wins, the U.S. currently ranks just 23rd in happiness (as of 2025). You might liken it to a gifted teenager—bold, eager, and ambitious, but angsty and still figuring out how to live well and in balance. As much as a parent wants to protect their child, sometimes the child has to make their own mistakes to truly grow.
So when Scottie Scheffler wonders what the point of winning is, I don’t see someone losing strength.
I see someone evolving.
He’s beginning to look beyond the leaderboard. Beyond metrics of success that carry a lower vibration. And yet, in a poetic twist, Scheffler did go on to win The Open. But that only reinforces the point: even at the pinnacle, the question remains. And if more of us in the golf and sports world — and in U.S. culture at large — started asking similar questions, we might discover that the more meaningful trophy isn’t about accumulating or beating others at all costs.
It’s about awakening and evolving to something more than winning could ever promise.
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