No no no, let me show you...
We all know that guy. The one in your foursome who doesn't just bring clubs to the course—he brings unsolicited advice. He’s the self-appointed swing coach, grip specialist, and mental game guru. Just as you’re lining up your shot, there he is:“No no no, let me show you how to fix that swing so you play like me.”
He means well, bless his heart. But as soon as he grabs your 7-iron like it’s Excalibur! You can’t help but notice. Also, he hasn't exactly mastered it himself. His backswing resembles a rusty screen door in a thunderstorm, and his follow-through looks more like a desperate attempt to stay upright than a textbook finish.
Yet, here he is again, standing in his trademark three-quarter stance, one hand mimicking a downswing, the other pointing toward an imaginary flag on the horizon.
“You gotta open your hips more.”
“Your left wrist is breaking early.”
“You shouldn't have had 3 hotdogs at the turn.”
Personally, I take offense to the hotdog comment but we all wonder where he picked all this golf guru gimmick up. Well, the answer is… everywhere.
He’s a digital disciple of the golf algorithm. Instagram reels? He’s seen 'em all. YouTube tutorials from 37-year-old prodigies? Yep. TikToks featuring drills involving alignment sticks, beach towels, coat hangers and pool noodles? Absolutely.
He’s got gadgets in his garage, training aids in his trunk, and swing thoughts stuffed in his brain like socks in an overpacked suitcase.
And yet… his game? Still hovering around a shaky 98 on a good day.
To his credit, he's trying. He’s got passion. He’s chasing that elusive “aha” moment just like the rest of us. But somewhere along the way, the hours of online theory haven’t quite translated to on-course execution.
What makes it even more entertaining is that he's often the first to critique your shot—right after blading his own wedge 20 yards over the green or leaving a putt two feet short with a confident, “That had the line.”
As much as we want to throw a club at him, we love him because golf isn’t just about perfect swings or breaking 90. It’s about the group, the drinks, and yes, even the relentless instruction from our unofficial team coach.
So next time he chimes in with, “No no no, let me show you,” just smile, nod, and hand him a ball retriever. He’s probably going to need it.