So this morning I grabbed my old 5-iron thinking I should fix my sad slice once and for all. Dug up that Tiger Woods 2000 swing analysis video everyone keeps talking about. Figured if it worked for prime Tiger, maybe it’ll stop my ball from curving into the woods every damn time.
Prepping Like It’s the 90s
First things first: cleared out space in my garage. Moved the lawnmower and stacked old Amazon boxes in the corner. Put that video on my laptop balanced on a toolbox – terrible angle but whatever. Watched Tiger coil up like a spring in slow motion. Noticed three things right away:
- That knee bend – way deeper than I thought
- His back foot stayed glued to the ground until POW
- Arms looked loose like noodles, not like my tense death grip
Battle With the Backswing
Tried copying his setup. Felt like folding myself into a lawn chair. Shoulders turned until they cracked but my hips didn’t budge. Wobbled like a newborn deer for five minutes straight. My wife walked in asking if I’d pulled a muscle.
Kept rewinding. Noticed Tiger’s head barely moves. Mine bobs around like a bobblehead. Pressed my forehead against the cold garage wall to keep still. Felt ridiculous. Swing after swing, chunking balls into the wall net. Made dents in two foam balls.
Wrist Snap Disaster
Then came the release part. Tiger’s wrists uncoil so late it’s scary. Mine flop open at the top. Tried holding the hinge longer. First attempt: ball went sideways and broke a flowerpot. Second: club face stayed shut and dribbled three feet. Third: actual contact but sounded like hitting a wet towel.
Took a break feeling like a beaten dog. Drank water listening to Tiger commentary: “He unleashes stored power here…” Yeah buddy, wish I knew where mine was hiding.
The Ugly Breakthrough
Hour three – fiddled with foot pressure like the video said. Imagined twisting my right foot into wet grass. Finally felt tension building in my hips during backswing. Came down not thinking about arms at all. Just tried pulling hips open and letting wrists do whatever.
CRACK. Missile into the netting. Ugly as sin but flew straight.
Got greedy. Next five went back to slicing. But that one shot? Felt like lightning. Knees ached, shirt soaked with sweat, garage reeked like old gym socks. But man – finally understood what “lag” actually means.
Won’t be winning majors tomorrow. But maybe next Saturday I’ll only lose three balls instead of a dozen. Tiger made it look easy. Spoiler: it’s freakin’ rocket science.
