For a long while, my golf game unwillingly (and unwittingly) earned the title of The Lion and The Mouse.
For better (or, in the case of my golf game, for worse), I’m built like a linebacker. I’m six-foot, three inches and 190 pounds of long, gangly legs and broad shoulders. When I stand on the tee box, I give the impression of someone who’s going to knock the stuffing out of the ball — pounding it down fairways and outmuscling par-5s. Every golf lesson I’ve ever taken begins with a comment about my “raw talent” and “untapped potential,” an observation unrelated to my golf abilities and largely due to the fact that I’m a head taller than most people I meet. Hence, the lion.
If my body’s a Mack truck, my golf game is a finicky European coupe. I’m dynamite around the greens and a lockdown putter, but when it comes time to pull out the driver, I’m rarely ever the longest in the group. When I win, I win with solid iron play, great putting and (at best) consistency off the tee. Enter: the mouse.
This spring, I watched in awe as Bryson DeChambeau spearheaded the PGA Tour’s newest arms race. As has been well-documented, Bryson went from an average player off the tee to bombing 400-yard drives with regularity (in addition to going from twenty-something professional golfer to cold-blooded cyborg capable of consuming 6,000 calories per day).
Unlike Bryson, I found myself with little desire to gain 40 pounds, but equally as much interest in adding some length to my game. The key, it seemed, was not to add mass but to add speed — a goal that could only be reached through training. After a brief conversation with GOLF’s Instruction Editor (and unofficial ombudsman for my golf game) Luke Kerr-Dineen, an overspeed training aid from TruSpeed Golf was on its way to my door.
When the TruSpeed kit arrived at my doorstep in a large, cylindrical tube, I began to wonder if Luke had trolled me. Inside the container was a steel iron shaft with a large hook at the bottom. Then, in a seperate zipped case were three tiny weights, each a different color and slightly different size. The heaviest of the weights was probably 5 pounds.
The TruSpeed Golf Complete Set (Standard)
When Luke told me about speed training, I’d prepared myself for an intense regimen not unlike the one followed by DeChambeau. I figured I’d be dropping down for push-ups, launching medicine balls, swinging comically into a giant net set outside of my mansion — okay, maybe that one was just for Bryson — not flipping these tiny weights around. After some further prodding, I started using the product.
The training itself was fairly straightforward. Three times per week I followed the training regimen on the TruSpeed site, with a rest day in between each session. I’d start with a functional warmup, then took 12 swings stepping toward the target, 12 swings with a pause at the top of my backswing and five swings traditional swings. For each of the 12-swing exercises, I rotated weights every three swings.
The equipment is small enough to use indoors, but for those (like me) who suffer from klutziness, it’s probably a good idea to step outdoors before you start swinging.
After only a few uses, I found TruSpeed’s regimen having an impact on my game. My swings felt faster, and even if they weren’t, I felt more comfortable trusting my frame to swing harder. I realized I’d internalized years of being told “swing easy” to mean “swing light,” when in fact, it should have meant “swing freely.” I certainly haven’t seen Bryson-like distance gains, but a one-club improvement is nothing to be upset about.
Ultimately, I’d recommend TruSpeed’s program for anyone who finds themselves in my shoes — struggling for length off the tee and wanting to feel more comfortable using their “natural talent.” In the meantime, I’ll be out on the course, hopefully finding a few more eagle opportunities along the way.