The Tiger Woods Comeback, Part MMX

For those of you out there who were wondering how I knew that Tigger Woods would not make a spectacular comeback, the explanation is very simple:

You can't play at your best when your ex-wife is squeezing you by the gonads.

-- Dalton Hammond

Tiger Woods Won't Be Back

Tiger won't be coming back.

You can bet on it. Tiger Woods isn't coming back. He wouldn't be the first to withdraw completely from public view. Think of Howard Hughes or J.D. Salinger.

He has nothing to return to but humiliation and jeers. Certainly neither Tiger nor his bride have any interest in getting back together, so that's out. He doesn't need the money, and his career train is so completely derailed that his dream of breaking Jack Nicklaus' record in the majors hasn't got a chance of coming true.

Besides, he now has the one thing he has desired since his golf shoes first pranced on public stage: PRIVACY! He's now free to be himself -- whoever Tiger Woods really is -- and enjoy himself, and his girl friends or boy friends, whoever, outside of public view.

In all his life, with all his money, he's never had his freedom before.

Tiger won't be back.

-- Dalton Hammond

Golf Root Rule

[Inspired by the 2009 World Series]

Sec. IV, p. 4 -- "A golf ball resting on a tree root must be played as it lies unless it struck a TV camera, in which case it is a home run."

-- DALTON HAMMOND

Golf Truths

I thought these were somewhat better than the usual stuff I receive in emails...DALTON HAMMOND

ONLY A TRUE GOLFER WILL UNDERSTAND THIS...

Don't buy a putter until you've had a chance to throw it.

Never try to keep more than 300 separate thoughts in your mind during your swing.

To calculate the speed of a player's downswing, multiply the speed of his back-swing by his handicap; i.e., back-swing 20 mph, handicap 15, downswing = 300 mph.

When your shot has to carry over a water hazard, you can either hit one more club or two more balls.

If you're afraid a full shot might reach the green while the foursome ahead of you is still putting out, you have two options: you can immediately shank a lay-up or you can wait until the green is clear and top a ball halfway there.

The less skilled the player, the more likely he is to share his ideas about the golf swing.

No matter how bad you are playing, it is always possible to play worse.

The inevitable result of any golf lesson is the instant elimination of the one critical unconscious motion that allowed you to compensate for all of your many other errors.

If it ain't broke, try changing your grip.

Everyone replaces his divot after a perfect approach shot.

A golf match is a test of your skill against your opponents' luck.

It is surprisingly easy to hole a fifty foot putt .. for a 10.

Counting on your opponent to inform you when he breaks a rule is like expecting him to make fun of his own haircut.

Nonchalant putts count the same as chalant putts.

It's not a gimme if you're still away.

The shortest distance between any two points on a golf course is a straight line that passes directly through the center of a very large tree.

There are two kinds of bounces; unfair bounces and bounces just the way you meant to play it.

You can hit a two acre fairway 10% of the time and a two inch branch 90% of the time.

If you really want to get better at golf, go back and take it up at a much earlier age.

Since bad shots come in groups of three, a fourth bad shot is actually the beginning of the next group of three.

When you look up, causing an awful shot, you will always look down again at exactly the moment when you ought to start watching the ball if you ever want to see it again.

Every time a golfer makes a birdie, he must subsequently make two triple bogeys to restore the fundamental equilibrium of the universe.

If you want to hit a 7 iron as far as Tiger Woods does, simply try to lay up just short of a water hazard.

There are two things you can learn by stopping your back-swing at the top and checking the position of your hands: how many hands you have, and which one is wearing the glove.

Hazards attract; fairways repel.

You can put a draw on the ball, you can put a fade on the ball, but no golfer can put a straight on the ball.

A ball you can see in the rough from 50 yards away is not yours.

If there is a ball on the fringe and a ball in the bunker, your ball is in the bunker. If both balls are in the bunker, yours is in the footprint.

It's easier to get up at 6:00 AM to play golf than at 10:00 to mow the yard.

Sometimes it seems as though your cup moveth over.

A good drive on the 18th hole has stopped many a golfer from giving up the game.

Golf is the perfect thing to do on Sunday because you always end up having to pray a lot.

A good golf partner is one who's always slightly worse than you are...that's why I get so many calls to play with friends.

That rake by the sand trap is there for golfers who feel guilty about skipping out on lawn work.

If there's a storm rolling in, you'll be having the game of your life.

Golf balls are like eggs. They're white. They're sold by the dozen. And you need to buy fresh ones each week.

A pro-shop gets its name from the fact that you have to have the income of a professional golfer to buy anything in there.

It's amazing how a golfer who never helps out around the house will replace his divots, repair his ball marks, and rake his sand traps.

If your opponent has trouble remembering whether he shot a six or a seven, he probably shot an eight (or worse).

You probably wouldn't look good in a green jacket anyway! A sweatshirt will do just fine.

It takes longer to learn to be a good golfer than it does to become a brain surgeon. On the other hand, you don't get to ride around on a cart, drink beer, eat hot dogs and fart if you are performing brain surgery.

How to be a Tiger

To learn Tiger Woods' famous trick shot just click the big button to start the 30-second video I took on the Pinehurst Country Club driving range yesterday afternoon. -- Dalton Hammond

Who hit that shot, Tiger Woods?

Hello again, sports fans. Today while the world was glued to the tube your ole buddy Dalton Hammond was adding another page to his legacy.

It happened on the 12th hole on Pinehurst course number Five. After a totally unexpected par on hole #11 where my off-center tee shot left me 165 yards from the green -- all carry, over water, with the wind in my face -- I decided to take the coward's way out, punching a 3-hybrid club to a bailout area 30 yards left of the green. A lucky chip left me 12 feet past the hole and I drained the putt for a par 4 net 2, since I received a 2 stroke handicap on that hole.

I toasted my good fortune with a lemonade and three baked-on-premises oatmeal and raisin cookies from the halfway house and celebrated further on the 12th hole by pushing my next tee shot wide right into the line of trees along the cart path that ran up the long hill to the green 155 yards away. There was a big oak tree between my ball and the green. As I awaited my turn to play I ruminated under the deep blue Pinehurst sky. "Bluer than the hips of an eskimo fan dancer", I thought, remembering a favorite running joke from the Jack Benny radio series. "How would Tigger Woods handle this shot" I wondered. I decided to try to bend the shot around the tree and maybe end up somewhere near the front of the green.

Resting the sole of the now-famous lucky 3-hybrid club behind the ball with the face pointed directly at the tree/green line I set up my feet on a line pointing to the sand bunker to the left of the green, then took a three-quarter knockdown swing across the ball which started for the bunker and gently curved right, hitting the front fringe and taking two little hops as it skidded out of sight onto the elevated putting surface. Applause erupted among my fellow-competitors. "Tigger would have loved that one", I mused.

When I got to the green there was no ball in sight. I figured it had rolled off the green but there was no ball back there either. By now one of my comrades had reached the green and, with a witness close by I approached the hole, reached in and retrieved my ball, which I had holed out in just two strokes -- two under par, an EAGLE, my first ever -- for a net ONE.

Nimbly juggling the ball with one hand I nonchalantly headed for the cart and could be heard mumbling to myself "Take THAT, Tigger!"

Respectfully submitted,
Dalton Hammond

Steroids on the PGA Tour

I saw an interesting observation in a golf magazine the other night:

"Tiger Woods has said that if they start testing tour players for steroids he'll gladly be the first in line to be tested. Now I ask you, if Tiger's test comes back negative, what does it MATTER what anyone else is on?"

Amen, brother. -- Dalton Hammond

Gary Player -- 11 Million Golf Balls?

Being a skeptic comes naturally to me so when golf professional Gary Player claimed to have hit eleven million golf balls in his career I had to put the calculator on it.

He's 72 years old. Let's say Gary started hitting balls at the age of 2, which is doubtful. Eleven million divided by 70 divided by 365 equals 430 balls every single day, taking off only leap days every four years.

I really, really doubt it.

-- Dalton Hammond

Why Golf Is Better Than Sex

Submitted by my friend Newsman Joe -- D.H.

#10 - A below par performance is considered good.

#9 - You can stop in the middle and have a cheeseburger and a couple of beers.

#8 - It's much easier to find the sweet spot.

#7 - Foursomes are encouraged.

#6 - You can still make money doing it as a senior.

#5 - Three times a day is possible.

#4 - Your partner doesn't hire a lawyer if you play with someone else.

#3 - If you live in Florida, you can do it almost everyday.

#2 - You don't have to cuddle with your partner when you're finished.

And the NUMBER ONE reason why golf is better than sex.....

#1 - If your equipment gets old and rusty, you can replace it!

A Beautiful Day In Pinehurst

PGA Golf Professional Tom Watson: "The citizens of Pinehurst don't look at golf as a matter of life or death. It's a lot more serious than that."


Well, for a town so full of older folks they sure have a sense of humor.

During one of my first rounds of golf here as a new citizen, my foursome was walking up to the tee box when we heard the familiar sound of a nearby ambulance siren, which we hear often in our neighborhood.

An elderly gentleman asked me, "Do you know what we call that sound around here?"

"No, what?" I asked.

"Another tee time opening up."


Now, THAT'S COLD! -- Dalton Hammond

More Jokes

Coalition Golf Classic

Golf Swing Bumper Sticker

"The golf swing is a lot like unnatural sex. Both should be effortless."

©2006, Dalton Hammond

More Golf

Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD)

If President Bush really needs to find some Weapons of Mass Destruction all he has to do is look in my golf bag.

-- Dalton Hammond

My Hole In One

Last Friday, February 17, 2006, I choked way down on a 4-iron and knocked a Titleist Pro V1 golf ball exactly 160 yards into the par-3 hole for my first hole-in-one.

What can I say? It was a very good shot and a lucky one, too. I got a certificate and a bag tag from the club, but I still had to pay the cart fee.

Heck, my playing buddies were so little impressed that I had to hit third on the next tee. Tough crowd.

-- Dalton Hammond, d/b/a Bob Jones

More of My Golf Stories

Coalition Golf Classic

Little Putter Boy

The Little Putter Boy stands guard over the practice green at Pinehurst Country Club, the world's #1 golf resort. Just look at the beautiful Carolina Blue sky. I prefer to call this place Paradisehurst.

At Christmas the Little Putter Boy does double duty, standing watch over the stables by night.



-- Dalton Hammond

Dalton Hammond on the LPGA Tour

My friend Mark talked me into going with him to the MIchelob Ultra LPGA golf tournament this afternoon in Williamsburg, VA, although at first I didn't want to go.

I tried every excuse I could think of: "It might rain." "I don't want to do all that walking." "It'll be too crowded", et cetera.

When I voiced my best excuse, "I don't want to spend the money for a ticket" he told me "Don't worry, every time I go to one of these things a stranger on the shuttle bus always comes up with some free tickets for us."

"Fat chance", I thought. But it turned out to be a pleasantly cool, sunny afternoon and since I really had nothing better to do I agreed to go.

The shuttle bus from the parking lot was pulling up to the ticket gate and Mark hadn't said a word, so I decided to speak up. In a voice that could be heard all over the bus I asked him, "Now where do we go to buy our tickets?"

Just then a fellow sitting across the aisle from us leaned over and said "You guys need to BUY your tickets? I've got a couple of spares, take these", and handed me two complimentary gate passes.

"Unbelievable", I thought. Mark just smiled.

I had a great time, the girl-watching was superb, and we got to see Annika and all the stars of the LPGA do their thing on the newly renovated Kingsmill River Course under beautiful Spring skies.

The moral of this story: "Even a turtle gets nowhere until he sticks his neck out."

-- A tired but happy Dalton Hammond

Top 10 Suggestions For Guys While Playing Golf Or Standing At A Urinal

10. Back straight, knees bent, and feet shoulder width apart.

9. Form a loose grip.

8. Keep your head down.

7. Avoid a quick backswing.

6. Quiet please!...while others are preparing to take their shot.

5. Stay out of the water.

4. Try not to hit anyone.

3. If you are taking too long, please let others go ahead of you.

2. Don't stare while others address their balls.

1. Don't let anyone see you take those extra strokes!

-- Dalton Hammond

More Golf Stories
More Jokes

The Golf Bifocals

I thought I'd heard all the golf jokes in the world but this one was new to me. Stop me if you've heard it. -- Dalton Hammond

A foursome of golf hackers always teed off every Saturday at 10 AM and were all usually there well before tee time. One Saturday Mark rushed to the tee just in time, as the other three were teeing off. Mark apologized and explained that he had stopped at the optometrist office on the way to the course to pick up his new bifocals.

Mark put on his new glasses, teed up his ball and after turning his head this way and that proceeded to hit the best drive of his life. His approach shot to the green was even better than his drive - leaving him a birdie putt which he drilled into the middle of the hole. Mark continued to play the best golf of his life, breaking 80 for the first time and winning every bet.

The golfers retired to the clubhouse after the round to celebrate and allow Mark to buy the drinks. After the first round his friends began to press him to explain his new golf skills.

Mark said "Guys, its these new bifocals - when I put them on and looked over the top I saw a little ball and a little club - when I looked through the bottom I saw a big ball and a big club - but when I looked just right I could see a little ball and a big club. So I hit the little ball with the big club all day. When I putted it was even better, I hit the little ball into the big hole with the big putter."

Everyone thought this was exceptional and decided to have several more drinks. After a while Mark excused himself to visit the Men's room. Several minutes later, when he failed to return one friend went to check on him.

He found Mark at the urinal with the front of his trousers soaking wet. "What happened?", his friend inquired.

An obviously tipsy Mark replied "I don't know. I was standing here at the urinal and I looked down and saw two - one big one and one little one. Well, I didn't recognize the big one so I put it back in my pants!" -- D.H.

More of my Golf Stories

The Course Record At St. Andrews

This story about back-to-back U.S. Open golf champion Curtis Strange won't be for you if you're not into golf. Read some of my joke pages instead. -- D.H.

A few years ago I covered the Anheuser-Busch Golf Classic at Kingsmill in Williamsburg, Virginia for a local radio station. One such year during lunch I was sitting with a pleasant gentleman who turned out to be Bill Neal, stepfather of feisty two-time U.S. Open champion Curtis Strange, the touring pro and tournament host at Kingsmill.

Bill Neal worked as calligrapher for the leaderboard down in in the Press Room with me and I had already been impressed by how likeable he was. We started talking and he told me this story:

Several months earlier he and a group of friends had flown to the birthplace of golf, fabled St. Andrews Royal and Ancient Golf Club in Scotland, where his famous stepson had recently broken the over 200-year-old course record. Bill couldn't wait to play the course for himself.

Led by their trusty Old Course caddies, Bill and his friends played well in the chilly summer breeze that bathed the links from the North Sea, enjoying the ambiance and the culture of their medieval surroundings. The group had heard many jokes about the legendary Old Course caddies who were said to have a cynical talent for poking fun at the mistakes of any duffer who crossed them with unthoughtful play or comments, so the Americans played carefully and were careful in what they said.

At the end of the round while they were putting the clubs away and tipping the caddies Bill couldn't help bragging, just a little. He mentioned to his caddy that his stepson Curtis Strange had recently broken the St. Andrews course record with a 62.

Unimpressed, the caddy barely looked up as he mumbled, "Aye? Th' wind must nae ha' been blowin'".

-- Dalton Hammond

My Other Golf Stories

My Dog Bogey Gives Up Golf

There are two true stories that I sometimes tell that always leave me wondering if anyone believes me. The first, my encounter with The Ghost of Maco Station has already been shared on these pages, and now I'd like to try the other one. - D.H.

About sixteen years ago when my dog Bogey, a Lhasa Apso, was still a puppy I decided to take him with me on a golf weekend to the Outer Banks. On the morning I was to go home I had an early tee time at Seascape Golf Links and decided to leave him in the Bronco with the back glass down since it was a cool morning.

All went well on the golf course but as I made the turn the weather turned pretty warm so I asked the club pro if Bogey could ride with me the rest of the way in the golf cart. To my great surprise the pro said okay so I loaded ole Bogey and off we went to the next tee.

Now Bogey is an extremely smart dog. He has always understood nearly every word I've ever spoken to him, and he was happy sitting like a good dog on the cart seat, watching us play. He has seen a lot of golf on TV since that's all I ever watch on the tube and I began to kid myself that he was actually keeping up with the action, but he never got in the way. Bogey is a good little boy.

Finally we came to the last hole, a short 115-yard par 3 and since there was a group ahead of us still on the green putting out and I had the honor, I teed my ball and stood back waiting for my turn to hit up.

Bogey saw his opportunity. He slid down from the seat, jumped out of the cart and headed for my tee. Since I was teed up over the prettiest grass on the sandy tee box I figured Bogey was about to answer a call of nature somewhere close to mark his spot, but he was walking toward my teed-up ball. He has chewed up a few balata ball covers back at home and I thought my Titleist sitting dead still on the tee was chew bait for sure.

But no. As Bogey approached the ball from the player's side he looked left at the flagstick down below and then stared right at the ball as if actually considering walking off with my game ball in his mouth to go off somewhere while chomping a few holes and scratches into the cover.

Instead, Bogey looked downrange at the flagstick, which had by now been replaced in the hole, then turned to the teed ball and swatted at it with his right paw. It was nothing like a perfect swing; he wore no gloves and his four-point stance looked funny but the "palm" of his paw caught the ball and it came completely off the tee and rolled about three feet -- straight for the hole which was now a hundred fourteen and a quarter yards away.

He looked down at his shot, sniffed at it disapprovingly, left it where it lay just past the tee box, climbed back into the cart, and never played golf again.

What a dog. -- Dalton Hammond.


My Other Golf Stories

How I Played the 1992 U.S. Open - by Dalton Hammond

This is a long story but it has a cool ending so stay with it. -- D.H.

A few years ago my friend Mark and I decided to see for ourselves what it is like to play Tour golf, by playing the venue for the upcoming 1992 U.S. Open Golf Tournament, the world-class seaside Pebble Beach Golf Links in Monterey, California. We arrived just three weeks ahead of the world's best golfers.

Mark is a good player; he shot 74 at Spyglass Hill earlier in the week. I figured I'd be lucky to break a hundred, but at least we'd be playing the finest golf course in the world, just like the pros.

The first part of the round was just a blur as I wallowed in the ambiance of the golf gods who had played this majestic Valhalla before me. The waves of Carmel Bay lapped at my feet and the gulls and harbor seals sang in harmony as I tried to focus some attention to my golf game. I could almost smell then-Mayor Clint Eastwood's "For-A-Few-Dollars-More" steaks grilling at The Hog's Breath Tavern just down the bay in Carmel.

Coming out of my reverie a bit I realized we were nearing the end of the round and I needed to finish with a bit of a surge if I was going to break 100. Accordingly, I pushed my tee ball out of bounds on #16 and shouted for the caddy to forget going after it. I teed up another ball and slugged it just hard enough to plop it over the bunker in the middle of the fairway and it rolled several yards down the hill toward the little gully that goes in front of the green, a perfect shot, lying 3. From 135 yards my full eight iron skipped past the hole a bit, circled around like in a bowl and stopped eight feet from the hole. Made the putt for an Out-of-Bounds bogey 5. My caddy Casey, a former California State Amateur Champion, applauded it.

The 17th hole is a par 3, about 168 yards from the white tee box and I hit a four-iron that skipped to the second plateau of the green, and after a disheartening three-putt I had my bogey. "Nothing to this game", I thought. Remember, at my level of play I'm glad to get bogeys. Especially at Pebble.

On the spectacular 18th hole at Pebble Beach the white tees were all the way back with the pro tees, as far back as possible. Two more feet and we'd be over a rail and in the bay. My point is, the pros don't have to hit it any farther than we did on that day. What you want to do is draw your tee shot fearlessly around a corner of the water to leave an easier approach to the par 5 green.

The bay never came into play as my well-struck tee shot failed to turn left and went straight into the fairway bunker. Now, this was exactly six weeks before the U.S. Open and there was fresh sand in all the bunkers, and the rough was up over my knees as I walked to my ball. I decided to just try to get it out onto the fairway with an eight iron. I got the ball out all right, half way to the fairway. When I finally found my ball sitting down in all that grass all I could do was take a huge swipe at it with a sand wedge and the ball chunked out to the fairway wrapped in a bale of fresh-hewn bermuda grass.

I hit the eight iron again onto the green and two-putted for a bogey six that felt like a twenty. Yet I played the last three holes, three of the toughest holes in golf, in three over par. I finished the day with a 95 and figured I had gone to heaven.

Three weeks later I had the TV on for the first time in months, watching the long-awaited U.S. Open being played.

In the Sunday final round, my favorite, Jack Nicklaus who was having severe hip problems, took a bogey on #16 and a double bogey on #17. He and I were both shaken as he stood on the tee at #18 and I'll be damned if Jack Nicklaus didn't put his tee ball in the exact same spot in the exact same fairway bunker I was just in three weeks earlier. Like me, The Master played an eight iron out of the sand that failed to make it to the fairway and, like me, he played a sand wedge out [of another of my divots] as the great man went on to get a double bogey on the hole. In later years Jack would undergo a hip replacement which would help him recapture much of the physical playing ability which abandoned him on this round.

Then it hit me. The Greatest Golfer In The World had just finished the last three holes five over par. Three weeks ago I had played the same three holes only three over par, meaning

I BEAT JACK NICKLAUS BY TWO STROKES ON THE LAST THREE HOLES OF THE 1992 U.S. OPEN GOLF TOURNAMENT IN PEBBLE BEACH

--Dalton Hammond

My Other Golf Stories