One of the many items I want for Christmas this year (and I’ve been really good, Santa, even though my scores haven’t been) is one of those cool tracer thingies that shows the flight of golf shots. There are a few apps out there that do the trick, but I’m looking for a full-service situation.
You’ve seen them in action on golf broadcasts. The colored line follows the flight of the ball as it sails off the tee or onto the green. It’s so sophisticated that it can pick up Bryson DeChambeau’s bullet drives as they leap off the head of his driver at speeds roughly equivalent to those reached by the Millennium Falcon (that reminds me, Santa, I want one of those Star Wars models, too). The journey of the shot is shown against a bright blue sky, and it’s a little bit marvelous.
Many golfers of average ability would enjoy watching the tracer follow their balls from the tee to the middle of the fairway and then from 150 yards out to within eight feet of the pin. There’s a certain magic to seeing that arc of majesty.
For me, the tracer would be more of a finding aid for wayward drives and seven irons that somehow leak off into the woods to the far right of the green (sometimes even to the far right of the globe). Tromping off into the forest with at least a general idea of where that Callaway No. 3 went seems much more fun than making a wild guess and returning to the fairway 10 minutes later with six balls – none of them mine.
I assume that this grand piece of technology is not hampered by tall pines, gnarly underbrush, large reptiles lying in wait, or ball-seeking gopher holes.
The tracer can measure things like ball speed, the apex of the shot, and its distinctive curve. None of this matters much to me. My ball speed is something less than supersonic. Unless I happen to punch a 9-iron perfectly, my apex isn’t generally impressive. The curve doesn’t happen until I’m on the green. A 10-foot putt curves past the hole and continues rolling down the hill and off the green. Try that, tracer.
There’s an entire market of golfers like me – we could host tournaments for the extreme amateurs. People at home could watch live as that red line veers far left into the grass, bounces between the trees, and rolls under some fallen leaves. Every. Single. Time.
I’m hoping the device can stay with me the entire round, tracing not only every shot but also my activities at the turn. I would love for it to show my path to the grill and the Snickers bars on the counter and, if I’ve had too many fluids on the first nine, my direct route to the gentlemen’s room. I don’t need every step followed in there, though. Inappropriate.
I have no idea where Santa can find these devices, but he got the race car set I wanted that year and the guitar and the first two Beatles albums, so I have faith in the old man.
Believe? I certainly do. Trace that.