What is the golf swing by Roy Maclvoy?
Well, I tend to think of the golf swing as a poem
The critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip
As the hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the little finger
Lowly and slowly the club head is pulled back, not by the hands, but by the body
Which turns away from the target…shifting to the right side without shifting balance
Tempo is everything, perfection unattainable
as the body coils down to the top of the swing
There’s a slight hesitation…a little nod to the gods…yes, to the gods
That he is fallible, perfection is unattainable
And now the weight begins shifting back to the left
Pulled by the powers inside the earth
It’s alive this swing, a living sculpture
And down thru contact, always down, striking the ball crisply, with character
A tuning fork goes off in your heart, in your balls
Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot
…and then the follow-thru to finish, always on line
the reverse “C” of the Golden Bear
the steel worker’s power and brawn across embers…
Arnold Palmer
And the unfinished symphony of Roy Maclvoy