The Guinea Pig: the swing assessment

Last updated: 17th November 2009

Matt Cooper, golfer: a hacker playing off 15. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world's first bionic golfer. Matt Cooper will be that golfer. Better than he was before. Longer, straighter, holing more putts.

Golf lessons have come a long way since 1987, the year I had my first lessons with a borrowed ladies 7-iron.

That year about 20 of us would follow the pro to the practice ground, hand over our 50p and spend an hour learning the basics.

It was good fun and great value but, in retrospect, I probably picked up as many bad habits as good ones.

I always had the sense in those days that, despite the fact we were all different shaped pegs (mostly a variation on square), we were being forced down the same round-shaped hole.

These days I understand that coaching has moved on apace; that tuition is a two-way process in which the coach takes care to understand the pupil using technology and multi-disciplinary teaching methods before suggesting ways of improving.

But what I hadn't done was try this out.

However on a recent Golf365 trip to Playgolf Manchester I had the opportunity to see modern day golf teaching practices in action.

Elsewhere on the site Dave Tindall has written about the lesson he received that day so rather than focus on the technical aspects, I'm going to write about the assessment - the process that begins a modern-day teacher-pupil relationship.

Upon introduction to Pete Styles, one of the PGA Professional golf coaches at Playgolf, I was a little nervous because behind him were the cameras, computers and technology that indicated how thoroughly my swing was about to be analysed.

And yet it soon transpired that there was nothing to be intimidated about at all - I was soon chatting away with Pete, fascinated by what he had to say, concentrating fully on his questions and impressed by the scope of what he was asking.

Pete explained that all golfers new to Playgolf have an initial assessment which enables the coach to understand the state of the player's game.

No less important is the fact that this assessment also allows the golfer to understand the state of their game too.

It was absorbing to be asked a series of questions that I soon came to realise were giving Pete vital clues about my game and my approach to learning.

When asked what other sports I had played, for example, I replied "hockey".

The second I said it I smiled, recognising immediately how hockey had influenced my game: flattish arc, restricted backswing, abbreviated follow through.

We then talked through injuries, where I play my golf and who I play it with; all questions designed to help Pete understand my patterns and habits.

This went further when we discussed which parts of the game are important to me.

It is amazing how such a simple question, one we might assume we don't need to ask because of its simplicity, can provide such a revealing answer.

In my case the short game is important to me. "Why?" asked Pete.

"I love to get imaginative with shots around the green. I love practising them, it feels a bit more artistic than the long game; more me," I said.

"I also like it because it's what I'm good at."

I smiled again - just talking this through was making me think.

"But then again," I said, "the short game is what I practise most at so I might just be better at it because of that ... Perhaps I should practise my long game more? But I find that a bit boring, I just don't get the satisfaction from hitting balls on the range that I get from flipping around the green."

"So what we need to do is create ways of practising your long game that appeals to you," said Pete. "And if we get you hitting better long shots you might find your enjoyment of practising it will increase."

The idea of finding learning methods that suits the individual is something top class sportsmen and women have been doing for few years. Indeed I have chatted to a couple of golfers this year who have discovered they are visual learners and consequently their coaches adapt their lessons accordingly.

But these days handicap golfers can receive the same treatment, as Pete was about to demonstrate by asking a series of questions designed to understand what makes me tick.

He wanted to know, for example, if I am an extrovert or introvert (because an extrovert tends to provide his or her own praise for good shots whereas an introvert needs to be told they have done something well).

Then he asked me: "If you have done something at work and feel it was of a good quality, do you need to be told it was good or are you able to provide internal feedback?"

Answers to this question can tell Pete so much about how he should approach teaching the pupil.

As does asking if the pupil is best at working towards a target or away from one - that is, aiming towards a target such as winning a competition or aiming away from the humiliation of being a hacker at an occasional corporate day out.

The difference between these two approaches is massive - if Pete gets it wrong the pupil may completely ignore the advice because his or her motivation hasn't been energised.

Next up were a few tests to reveal my physical capabilities - some stretches, squats and rotations.

They revealed plenty to Pete and confirmed a few of my suspicions - namely that I have reasonably strong legs (as I would hope to as a regular jogger) but my flexibility is more or less non-existent.

Lithe, elastic and supple are not words that will ever be used to describe my upper body, but Pete provided me with a few exercises to get me started and improve on something that is clearly inhibiting my game.

After all of this had been discussed, along with a quick rundown of the state of my all-round game, Pete and I had spent 50 minutes talking and zero minutes swinging a golf club.

And yet I had learned so much about my game - and so had Pete.

Perhaps the most telling result of this assessment was that I now had huge confidence in my coach, so much so that when it was time to hit a ball I felt no fear about either his expert glance or the glare of the camera's gaze either.

Which is perhaps just as well because both were able to highlight some pretty damning flaws in my posture and alignment - but more of that another time!