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JeffreySpicoli

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  1. I ran into his father last week at a private C-level technology briefing. His son is being recruited by Stanford for a full-ride golf scholarship and a guaranteed fast-track to wrapping up his undergraduate degree and then entry into both the law school and the business school. Quite an amazing young man.
  2. Interesting. Any science that supports this or is it just your belief? Also, which muscles are the “golf muscles” that you refer to? How do we know that our “golf muscles” are in shape to continue to play scratch golf? And for those that aren’t scratch golfers can they maintain their handicaps by performing a dozen or two swings a day?
  3. Is this a universal claim—i.e., holds true for all scratch golfers under all conditions—or is this something that you think holds true for you? It’s quite an interesting claim.
  4. Those of us with willpower and superior genetics can sympathize with the OP. But very few of us exist.
  5. I’m an old CEO who always—and I mean always!—hits the sweet spot on my 2 iron that I also happen to throw darts with. Flagsticks tremble when I pull my 2 iron out of my bag. But you mere mortals don’t have my superior genetics so I don’t expect you to understand, let alone to be able to wield blades like I do.
  6. Mizuno HMB 4 iron would be a great fit for you.
  7. I have several times using just my 2 iron. I stopped doing this as it was a tad boring.
  8. Get the HMBs. I bet you’ll kill them!
  9. The thread is about Joanne Carter. No need to bring men into it.
  10. You diminish Carter by having to compare her to a man. She can stand on her own.
  11. Quite a first post to make such a wild accusation. Have to wonder about intent.
  12. Best golf story of the year, if not longer.
  13. Club championship. I’m in the finals against a cocky young buck. 10th hole. 475 yard par four. Young buck hits his second shot to two feet with a pin that’s tucked in the rear right corner of a small green. You can tell from the look on his face that he believes he will win the hole despite a poor drive. (Just earlier he was visibly upset that I had outdrove him.) I’m 215 yards out. I pull my 2 iron from my bag. I step to the ball. I discreetly give a minor tip of my hat to the young buck. He smiles tightly in somewhat feigned gratitude. I decide to go flag hunting and I execute a towering shot with my patented baby draw—a risky shot given the pin position—and the ball drops ten feet in front of the hole and rolls into the cup. I won—9 & 8.
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