The Wizard of Oz gets four strokes a side…

“You dare to come to me for a heart, do you? You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk!” - Wizard of Oz Emily Dickinson wrote “tell the truth, but tell it slant.” Her verb is curious, and as a marketing director I do get her point. All of marketing is a slanting of some truth, either by reduction or some clever manipulation of signs and signifiers. We use language, imagery and market trends to loose you of your money. This is not a criticism; evangelical trade has been around since Classical times, and will persist because it’s harmless in the context of athletics and entertainment. Marketers in these sectors are like Oz behind the curtain, except you should know we are there - the curtain has holes. But my question, as it pertains to Ms. Dickinson, is can someone “tell” the truth. I’m looking to deconstruct the verb here. It is an interesting question isn’t it? Barring the relativity of truth, I am looking to discuss its utility. William James wrote: “The truth is what works.” Here is where “telling” the truth differs in its practical application; the truth then to James is to be experienced, through his verb work. Although the “telling” is a type of action, it is only a representation of what it is describing, and therefore deficient in some way when compared to “working” the truth through deliberate action and authentic experience.How that applies to golf and our humble company is that this is precisely the challenge we have in getting golfers to play our clubs; the “slant” truth, which most golfers are told by the great and powerful Oz-like golf companies, hijacks any chance we have in getting an objective test of our clubs. Not to say that we are equipment socialists - our clubs are not for everyone. Truth is, no club is universally appropriate for every golfer, although I would like to tell you different. As a self-described equipment junkie, I have always relished the experience of waggling a perspective club, judging its look at address, feeling its weight and feeling its aura. Like the young King Arthur, pulling a club from a rack is potentially like pulling the sword from the stone; you never know what club is going to be your next Excalibur. Our clubs are plenty sharp and broad and provide an authentic experience of golf to thousands who are in our database as a legion of Persimmon loyalists. We get to these people, and they get us, but for the most part, in the larger golfing world, we lose the battle before the first ball is ever struck. This is akin to that golfer who, on the first tee, wins the bet before the first ball is struck because he has obtained an abundance of shots, in surplus of his need, by campaigning his handicap and his recent reasons why he needs extra help. You know that golfer, you’ve played with them, and you’ve heard how bad he has been playing. I have, and I feel slimed, and would just assume award them the $3
Louisville Golf Marketing Director
The Spirit of the Game




