A Lob Wedge Addict
Hello. My name is Matt, and I’m a lob wedge addict. I’m here to share my story, the things I’ve learned in almost twenty years of addiction, and how I’m playing better, smarter golf now.
How It Started
I started playing golf seriously around 2003. I was a wide-eyed, uninformed viewer in the era of peak Tiger and Phil. Which is to say, I never stood a chance. When I put together my first set of golf clubs, a 60 degree wedge was a requirement.
Going to the short game area, I was only carrying one club. Every shot called for the lob wedge. Chip shot? Lob wedge. Flop shot? Lob wedge. Bunker shot? Lob wedge. Bump and run? Lob wedge. The results were spotty, but the club was never blamed. I was a new golfer – my expectations were low and any failures could be laid at the feet of my inexperience.
The Golden Era
The excuse of being a “new golfer” lasted for the duration of my college years. I didn’t play that often, so it was easy to blame my shaky short game on a lack of practice. I wasn’t a lob wedge addict at this point, just awash in ignorance.
What transformed me into a full blown lob wedge addict was the three year stretch after college – my Golden Era of golf. I lived near a course and had a work schedule that allowed me to play virtually every day that the weather would allow. And I loved the short game. I didn’t go on the course every day, but I would spend hours chipping and pitching. With only my lob wedge, of course.
The stupidity of my approach was overwhelmed by the number of hours I put in. My short game became exceptional. I stamped each new lob wedge “Otis” – up and down, just like an elevator. My other wedges were little more than ornaments in my bag. Despite ball striking that could generously be described as “hit and miss,” I routinely shot in the low 70s. It’s the best and worst thing that ever happened to my game.
The Darkness
Here’s a math problem for you:
What do you get when you take an ill-informed approach and subtract all the hours of practice?
Answer: Bad results.
As my life changed, no longer allowing for hours of short game practice, my scores exploded. This isn’t an unusual story, and I wouldn’t trade my current life for my old handicap.
The problem was that the dramatic change in my practice habits masked the lessons I should have been learning along the way. Every time that I played, I reached exclusively for the lob wedge. When it worked, it was validation of my strategy. When it failed, I blamed it on my lack of practice rather than seeing that other variables were in play. My lob wedge addiction had blinded me.
Seeing the Forest, Missing the Trees
I can’t put an exact date on it, but there was a point where I started to see a little pinprick of light.
My commitments outside of golf were growing, so my practice time continued shrinking. My short game continued to deteriorate. It was rare that I got through a round of golf without an embarrassing mishap around the green – stuffing the wedge into the turf or blading a shot across the green.
I decided on a solution as extreme as my current, failing approach: putt almost everything. Regardless of how far off the green I was or what the conditions were, I was putting. I wasn’t putting out of the rough, of course, but after years of being burned by the boom-or-bust lob wedge, I settled into the no-risk approach of relying on the Texas wedge.
While I didn’t have my arms around the solution yet, at least I was admitting that there was a problem.
Epiphany
99% of the time, testing golf clubs is not helpful for my game, but every now and then it opens my eyes to something important.
This past summer, I was testing a lot of short game clubs. In a situation where I would normally grab my putter without thinking twice, I started hitting some of these test clubs. The results were outstanding. “Huh.” I grabbed my pitching wedge and started replicating those results. I changed the situation, and the pitching wedge continued to shine. “Where has this been hiding all these years?” I wondered, as I started exploring the other unused clubs in my bag.
A Grown Up Short Game
After over twenty years of golf, I’m finally playing with a mature short game approach. I’m using all of the tools in my bag – putter, lob wedge, pitching wedge, even the occasional long iron – and all of the shots I know – chips, pitches, putts, flops.
When I approach a short game shot, I’m considering the distance to the hole, the situation, and, perhaps most importantly, where my game is at. If it’s my first round in two weeks, I’m probably playing the lowest risk option. When my game is feeling great, I’ll let the lob wedge off its leash.
I’m laughing as I write this, thinking about the response of my 24 year old self. “You old bastard, you’re just jealous.” Yes, I’m jealous of the unlimited free time you had. And I’m simultaneously gobsmacked at the stupidity of how you played this game. My brain and your schedule would have been a hell of a combination.
The Bigger Picture
This lesson goes well beyond the short game. Don’t be held hostage by your current beliefs. Try lots of stuff. Try stuff that you tried before that “didn’t work” – it’s possible you weren’t letting it. Don’t let pride get in your way. You don’t have to do things because they work for other people, but if something works for a lot of people, it probably has some merit.
In life and in golf, you should never be done learning, growing, and evolving.
Editor In Chief at Plugged In Golf
He founded Plugged In Golf in 2013 with the goal of helping all golfers play better and enjoy the game more.
Matt lives in the northwest suburbs of Chicago with his wife and two daughters.