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| Gonzalo Fernández-Castaño |
I’m now officially on a mission. I miss cleaning my spikes on those bristles and actually having the tangled grass fly off with ease. I miss the connection with generations of other golfers I used to sense when walking toward the Men’s Locker Room on a spike-worn carpet or marked wooden floor. I especially miss that cool sound of my spikes on a parking lot and a cart path, and the memories of when they clacked in stereo with my Dad’s. And I miss the condition of the greens when golf shoes only made 11 small nail holes under other golfers’ feet, instead of the complex geometric patterns -- of 9 pyramids, 8 triangles, 7 circles each containing 6 points of indentation, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens and a perimeter of angled trapezoids – on the soles of this year’s newest golf shoes.
Really. I’m old
enough to remember when soft spikes made some sense in terms of being better for
greens. Have you looked lately? Check out a well-manicured green after a pair
of modern, hard-plastic soles have walked over it, especially on the feet of
some hacker who thinks he’s in the U.S. Open.
You know that guy. He looks at
his double-bogey putt from four vantage points, feeling the slope of the green as he traipses to the hole and back on
each side of his imaginary chalk line (which means that he’s walking right on
top of your line, having seen too little
break when he plumbed the putt five minutes ago). The occasional real spike mark could be tapped
down in any friendly game and the problem was solved. There’s no chance to re-grade the whole
surface of a twenty-foot birdie putt when it looks like Neil Armstrong has just
walked across the moon. “One giant leap”
indeed.
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Hal Sutton, wearing Allen Edmonds Fort Worth,
teeing off at the Toshiba Classic in Newport Beach
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| Ben Crenshaw at the Toshiba Classic |








