When you see something you really want, just reach out and take MAKE it!

OH, TO be strong enough to ignore golf club envy!

I love my clubs, but there are times I wish they were the only clubs ever invented. Then I wouldn’t have good, old Ethan Jeezyoushitme-Smugalugs in my face every three months waving something new at me, taunting, “You should get one of these in ya bag, Daddo. It’s bloody awesome!”

Funnily enough, I don’t need him waving his new things at me to know there’s a constant barrage of new golf stuff to be had. I can tell by the shininess; and things like magnetic headcover holder-on-er-ers, new dimple designs, fancy stamps, oblong weights, extra weights, no weights, weights that don’t look like weights. Don’t even start me on colours!

I totally get it, man. New stuff rocks, and generally, I’m strong enough to ignore the envy, but every once in a while, it’s tough. 

So the other day we played and Smugalugs is all cheery as he approached me with another new weapon, held out at arm’s length like a selfie-stick. Oh, God!  It’s the Mack Daddy Phil Mickelson Grind. Sounds like a coffee, doesn’t it? Wonder what that would taste like? I reckon it’d lope down your throat and give you a cheesy all-American smile.

Smugalugs hits a couple of career-shots with his new club – one from the rough about 40 metres out, the other from a tight lie nearer to the green. “Amazing!” he says. “Phenomenal, even!”

It’s a must-have club, screams my heart, but in my head my wife’s voice is loud and clear. Garage is full, big fella. Purge before you even think of getting any new golf clubs. Ethan hit another beauty from the dead zone and twirled his Mack Daddy PM like a baton. It is kind of beautiful, but in that non-traditional way – a bit like Barbra Streisand … or Owen Wilson … or Julia Gillard (too far?).

It was all so clear.

I have to have one. But I can’t. But I can. No, I can’t! I could lie. You’ll get caught – you always get caught. That whole angel-devil thing was going on inside my head and it was making me mental. At home, I looked at the op shop of clubs in the garage and sighed. They look like an episode of Embarrassing Wedges, but how could I get rid of these warriors, these champions, these dear, dear friends? I couldn’t. Unless…

I had it! If Madonna can reinvent herself, why can’t that old wedge in the corner?

I could work on it. I’ll bloody make my own Mack Daddy! It’s a simple matter of a rotary tool with a disc cutter. And a vice. And a stable hand. And safety goggles. You’d simply follow the groove to a new illogical conclusion. The drill works, I think. I’ll need that, too. And an engraver might be handy as well, for the signature edition.

But wait, I could go further … be more daring … push new boundaries. It’s not enough to imitate the Mack Daddy, it’s a chance to reinvent it. Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the MacDaddo! The grooves go ALL the way to the end of the club, so on those shots where you nearly miss the ball, you still get action on it. Awesome, eh? 

There is no dead zone on the face of the club. Not one. How about grooves on the hosel for shanks? Now we’re just being stupid – besides, I have to save something for the MacDaddo2. And even better than the Mack Daddy’s “go” green holes in the back, the MacDaddo’s got red holes. Because it’s hot, with a hot core. It’s like lava in there … red-hot!

Should it be called the Magma? It sounds ridiculous, but they must have laughed at Karsten Solheim when he introduced ‘Ping’ clubs. Two-ball putters?  Long putters? Square drivers, rescues?  Nuts!

There’s nothing nutty about the MacDaddo, though. The big question might be how legal it is – but we can get to that.