I was so frustrated with my short irons ballooning high and landing nowhere near the pin yesterday. Figured I’d screw around with ball position and stance today, since every YouTube hack claims it’s the magic fix. Grabbed my 56-degree wedge and hustled to the practice green.
The Disaster Phase
Started by doing my usual lazy setup – ball dead center, feet shoulder-width, knees barely bent. Whacked five balls in a row. All launched like freaking fireworks, sailing over the green into the bushes. Felt like throwing darts blindfolded. Zero control, all height, no distance. Pissed me off so much I almost yeeted my wedge into the pond.
Shifting Stuff Around
Remembered some golf forum rant about moving the ball back in your stance. Slid that sucker about two inches toward my right foot (I’m right-handed). Also narrowed my stance – like, feet almost touching – and shoved 70% of my weight onto my left leg. Looked like a flamingo trying to balance on one leg. Took a half-swing, arms choked down the grip. Ball came out low but… plunked right into the turf three feet in front of me. Progress? Maybe. At least it didn’t go vertical.
Dialing In The Stupid Details
Stood there scratching my head like a chump. Added two tweaks: first, pressed my hands wayyy forward toward the target before swinging, like I was trying to shove the clubhead into the ground. Second, made sure my right shoulder stayed stupid low through impact – almost dipping it toward my hip. Took another five hacks: first three still chunked, but the last two? Buzzed knee-high, skipped twice, and dribbled up near the pin. Didn’t even need range balls for that dopamine hit.
The Ugly Wins
Wrapped it up hitting 20 more balls with this Frankenstein stance:
- Ball off my right instep
- Feet squeezed together tighter than airport security lines
- Leaning so far forward I nearly tipped onto my face
- Right shoulder practically grinding against my thigh
Results were hilariously inconsistent but way better. When I didn’t flinch through impact, the ball shot out like a pissed-off hornet – low, penetrating, stopped within ten feet of where it landed. Still duffed a few, obviously. But damn, felt good not watching every ball impersonate a SpaceX launch.
Lesson learned? Short irons ain’t about pretty swings. It’s about looking like a constipated crab and trusting the physics won’t make you eat turf. Hands forward, shoulders tilted, and pray your back doesn’t give out.
