Masters Sunday

Framed Masters flag.
A gift from my aunt and uncle for college graduation.

My first set of clubs were hand-me-downs from a distant relative. A mish-mashed set in a worn red leather bag straight out of the late 1960s. Salvaged from the depths of a basement, they smelled like your dead uncle's moth ridden suit. The grips were smoothed and the clubheads mildly rusted. Had I been wiser at the age of 15 I might have considered them vintage, instead I just thought them old. But they did the trick - under my reigns they sent the ball from tee to hazard consistently and, most important... they were free. I had been told countless times that a club doesn't matter if your mechanics are solid. In my case both were laughable. 

When my interest took hold I was informed that it came honestly from my grandfather, an avid golfer. He enjoyed spending his Saturday afternoons swinging and swigging away with his buddies from the police force. My mother recalled how "happy" and relaxed he would be after his weekly round... quite different than my usual feelings when leaving the course. Anxiety over the game only became more intense the older I grew.   After playing with my college friends for the first time I realized how bad I was. They personify all the advice I had received in my early years, punishing the ball down the fairway with mechanical precision and intent. My ball consistently well behind theirs, if even visible at all.  If you look at the fairway as a scatter plot, my data always represents the outlier. They make it look so effortless and I hate them for it. Luckily, their patience and penchant for sinking more beers than putts provide an inviting atmosphere to refine and enjoy my game. A round in their company remains the ultimate summer treat.

My grandfather's clubs - when woods were wood.
Ahhhhh the stories I bet they could tell. 

Each year I spend the better part of Masters Sunday slouched in front of a TV ironically envious of sun-drenched golfers and their picturesque playground... meanwhile, an equally gorgeous day winks at me from outside my windows. Golf is one of only two sports I follow and enjoy watching (lacrosse being the second).  Although I believe it to be more of a mental disorder than a game - akin to demonstrating bi-polar behavior - with frustration and elation confined to a single swing. All it takes is one shot to sway from giddy embrace to permanent abandon. The game of golf is most often played like watching E.T. or Old Yeller - fun followed by heartache, smiles wiped away by tears.

Living in New York seriously stifles my time on the links. Inconvenient locations, public transport, cumbersome equipment and choking greens fees make course play near impossible.  I fully admit that these reasons alone could one day drive me from my beloved city.  However, I have discovered various ways to quench my cravings until a proper tee time awaits in Maryland. There are easily accessible ranges on Randall's Island and at Chelsea Piers that provide me with the space to swing my Pings freely within the urban limits. Most recently though I have found the confines of my own apartment to be the best (and cheapest) practice tee by utilizing a Wii and Tiger Woods Golf 2010. I can only imagine the hours of amusement I give peeping neighbors who peer in as I decimate the Olde Course St Andrews (5 under) or Bayhill (3 under) - complete with pre-round stretching, waves, fist pumps, collapses of agony, and "did you see that putt????" arm "Y"s of rejoicing.  (*Note -  Tour atmosphere setting should be in the ON position for the full ego boost.  Swing away and hear the crowds roar.)

But on to the important issues - attire.

I am excited to see golfers, particularly of the younger generation like Ian Poulter, Camilo Villegas and Adam Scott returning to the sleeker outfits of the past, mixing in dandyish colors with classic staples. Labels such as J. Lindeberg, Izod, and my personal favorite Munsingwear's An Original Penguin have infused a sense of style back into the game. They have brought trim, flat front pants and clean fitted polos to the twisted lines of the players, embracing golf's fashion heritage.  In fact, Original Penguin shirts are iconic golf wear and the revived brand provides a retro link to classic design.  Golf outfits worn by fathers and grandfathers everywhere are now the envy of the youth and a burgeoning definition of cool on the course.

My favorites for the upcoming season:
Original Penguin: Van Cortland

Original Penguin: The Glenn

Looking back on golf history and then to the majority of the current field, I can't help but notice how far we have fallen... much like in all other areas of proper dress. Hogan, Demaret, Sneed and Hagen revolutionized the game and did so without moisture wicking fabrics and gaudy logos, rather relying on ties and heavy wools to get them to the 19th Hole. Their dapper dress helped to cement the game as a gentlemanly pastime and demand respect of those that approach the tee box. Perhaps it wasn't just pure luck that helped Ryan Moore hit a hole in one yesterday.  The golf gods were smiling down on him as he donned a tie (with tie bar) and cardigan to pay homage to Augusta Co-founder Bobby Jones.

I bet he never had to hear the phrase:
"Get in the hole!"
Those were the days. 

One man stands above the rest when it comes to style on the links though. No one can argue with the fact that Arnold Palmer was the James Dean of golf, a pomaded rebel with a cause - to dismantle the competition and look damn cool doing it. His tight polos, casual cardigans and smoldering cigarette were part of the equipment list in the late 50's and early 60's. There is something inertly macho about his portrayal of golf, to which his attire directly contributed. A Mad Man meets athletic icon. As the season draws near, the picture below of Arnie and Jack will be my inspiration for proper attire. I may as well look good while playing bad.

Now if only I could figure out how to eliminate the farmer's tan, I'd be all set.

Do golfer get much cooler than this?
Check out the posts from Sartorially Inclined: 
Post 1, Post 2

My other set of clubs: cocktail stirrers.