Jim'll Fix It!

"Now then, now then, now then", croaks the geriatric, rake thin, multiple marathon runner. He is dressed in an awful spangly gold tracksuit and runs a sovereign ring covered hand through his bedraggled silver mane. He holds a crumpled piece of paper under his rose tinted spectacles and begins to read.

"This letter is from a young man called Tiger...

Dear Jim, Please fix it for me to be able to hit my hybrid again. I have a big competition this weekend and it's the only club in my bag I can't use. It's just goes low and right off the toe every time. It's driving me bananas. There was a time when it was my go to club and there are some holes on my course where it would be the right option off the tee. Please, please, please can you fix it for me"

The aging presenter furrows his brow and takes a puff on his cigar. As the acrid smoke partially obscures his face, his expression shifts, gradually forming a mischievous grin. "Well young man, Uncle Jim has the perfect Fix It for you. You'll travel to Ufford Park Driving Range and there you will receive a bucket of balls. With the freedom to experiment and without the pressure of each shot counting I'm sure you will resolve your problem".

It's been four months since I last went to the driving range and lo and behold the senile, coffin dodger was right. Once again it turned out to be a problem with my set up. The ball position was too far forward meaning I was through the impact position before reaching the ball. No wonder I was hitting it off the toe. The ball position is now nearly in the middle of my stance and I'm striking it sweetly again.

Thanks Jim!