Crispin Manson of Sunningdale holes a tricky eagle putt to send Sunningdale into the playoff against Pine Valley in the 2007 World Club Championship. ‘He’s got a long putter – he must be dreadful!’

I am 15 and have been golfing for about 8 years. The past 4 times I have been out golfing I ranged from par to 2 over on 9 holes (par 34 and 36). I average about a 250 yard (longest 304 yards) drive and typically hit it a fade or hit it straight. Great with irons and chipping. Consistent 1-2 putter. I am 5’10" and only weigh about 120. I will definitely grow some more. Would you say I have a future in golf?

www.Face-on-Putting.com is for ordering your putter. Using the GP putter feature to pickup the golf ball. This GP putter for Face On Putting will eliminate the yip problem.

i cant decide which ball to play the taylormade tp black, srixon trispeed tour, nike vapor or the wilson c:25. i will try these out but i still want some opinions on which ball is longer/straiter spinnier/putter feel

Randy Haag Side Saddle Putting

My boyfriend of 6 years got mad this morning because I was going to call the school and tell them that my son was running late ( he was) he has to be there at 8:55 and it was 8:50 and it takes a little MORE than 10 minutes to get there! Anyway so he gets ticked and (he has already broke down my car by running it and running it not taking care of it with the oil and now the engine is done for) and I have no way to take my son to school and so he left and said I can find a way to take him to school myself (with the b word) (schl is clear across town). Now he is definitely late)! I had to call the school he was running late.

Anyway, this morning just started out bad because to start with my son was not listening and he was not getting ready for school. I kept telling him to brush his teeth and he screamed at me. Then when my bf left, yes I was mad, but now I almost can’t blame him. My son was the one who puttered around. My son is 9. So my son went to school and talked to the school counselor and told her all about it and that me and my boyfriend fight all the time. It might seem that way to him but we don’t. We have had a few arguments and sometimes it sounds like we are but we are just messing with each other (joking). Now I am scared that my son is going to get taken away.

To be honest this will be the second time they have been called on me. I am being VERY TRUTHFUL here about everything. The first time (see I am a single mom), was one of my parents called on me trying to get back at the other during their divorce. They said it was to hurt the other parent not me, but yes it hurt me and it looked bad. They said all kinds of bad things about me that were not true at all. All just because of a bad divorce. It was eventually let go. I was still very upset. It kind of makes me mad thinking about it now (reliving the experience). Anyway, I am so upset. My son has a tendency to exagerate even to us. He tells us stories and we are like really – we are like believing him and then he is like "no it is not true and you believed me". Any advice. I am crying so hard right now. I don’t want to lose my son. I really am a good mom to him. He is my world. I love him so much. I don’t want them to take him from me. Around here they go after the ones who don’t do bad things and the ones who do still have their kids – I lived down the street from some of them people.
Thanks and I do try to spend a lot of time w/ my son. I spend more time w/ my son than my bf. I love my son. He is a great kid. I am having trouble going to sleep I feel wide awake w/ anxiety (worry). A week ago before all this we had this great birthday party planned for him for this week and now I am scared I won’t be sharing it with him. He is not in danger. My mom is brainwashing him though. Told him he could come live with her. She is MEAN, she acts nice when she wants to get her way, but she is a totally decieving person. My family knows that. She is the one who called the first time on me. She wants me to move back to get money from me and so I will clean her house (I have a disability). So she can keep complaining to people that I don’t do anything to help her so they will feel sorry for her & help her & so she will get benefits.

Great Full Shots ! Does he have the wedge and putter of Tiger and Phil ? I hope not another Sergio

I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too. Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up. Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle, at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.

I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there! Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness, all within seconds I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway. I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge" so frequently required when riding. Little did I suspect…

As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it, it was that close. I hate to run over animals and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves! Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing. I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel. This was an evil attack squirrel of death! Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in? Well just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle; my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full- face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little effect on the squirrel however. The rpm’s on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop. Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel s tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked sort-of.

Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak. Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car. I heard screams. They weren’t mine… I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.

I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser. So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.

That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger! That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car! I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood. As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it.

Faced with choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death…I’ll take my chances with the freeway. Every time. And I’ll buy myself a new pair of gloves.

Optimism Media Group (OMG) followed Re/Max World Long Drive champ Jamie Sadlowski and CBS Golf commentator Gary McCord as they put on an exhibition for several hundred fans at The Country Club of the Rockies in Vail, CO. Jamie amazed the crowd by launching his ball with a putter an incredible 280 yards and crushing consistent drives of 400+ yards. This feature appeared originally on Golf.com and as part of Golf Magazine’s Power Package.

An original true story, written by a Battalion Fire Chief in a Mississippi town.

EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH

I never dreamed that slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!

Little did I suspect.

I was on Brice Street – a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.

It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it — it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.

Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular…

He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack.

Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing…

I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home.

No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel.

This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all.

His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my
right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result.

TORQUE.

This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.

The squirrel screamed in anger.

The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy.

I screamed in . well . I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only
one leather glove and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back.

The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.

This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle… my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.

As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity.

It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only
one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now, the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand … I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard
as I could. This time it worked … sort of.

Spectacularly sort of ..so to speak.

Picture a new scene.

You are a cop.

You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.

Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live
squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams.

They weren’t mine…

I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street.

I would have returned to ‘fess up’ (and to get my glove back). I really would have.

Really…

Except for two things.

First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody’s front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver’s seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot
shotgun at his own police car.

So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.

That was one thing.

The other?

Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me.

That is one dangerous squirrel.

And now he has a patrol car.

A somewhat shredded patrol car .. but it was all his.

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.

Alright well I have a Rife 2-bar hybrid blade putter and i kinda like it (especially the customization) however i got an offer to trade it for a Scotty Cameron Newport 2 teryllium long neck putter. However its got a broke shaft so i have to send it in and get it replaced, about to do a shaft replacement, get the originally head cover and a grip. I have a ’07 newport and love it
My question is should i do the trade?
I’m pretty sure i know what i’m going to do, but i just want confirmation from someone that i’m doing the correct thing.
Thanks in advance

SCIENTIFICALLY DOCUMENTED FACT: It is impossible to achieve your full potential as a putter of the golf ball by standing at a right angle to your target line. FREE PDF sidesaddle putting manual with putter plans and green reading tutorial. puttmagic.com

Pete asks Jerry, his partner, to attend the flagstick while he attmepts to make a long putt. When pulling the flagstick out, the hole liner becomes stuck on the flagstick. Pete’s ball would have gone in but strikes the hole liner instead. Pete places his ball one inch from the flagstick and putts his next stroke in with his putter.

What is the ruling and penalty and rule #