Welcome to The Golf Scene — Your Weekly Golf Fix.

If this is your first issue, welcome.

If you've been following along, thanks — I appreciate it.

This week we discuss a golf training aid that should probably have come with a warning label, why some golf courses apparently need loan officers, and whether you suffer from Early Extension.

(If you're not sure what Early Extension is, there's a reasonable chance you have it.)

And somewhere in there, we'll help you hit a few better shots.

Let's get into it.

🧠 From the Obscure: The Marquis de Sade Golf Academy — When Golf Training Aids Were Basically Farm Equipment

🍺 Golf Life: The Cart Girl & The Loan Officer

🏌️ Swing Insight: Do You Suffer From Early Extension?

I am a PGA Golf Professional, probably because my father was a golf professional.

That meant I grew up around the game.

Some kids grew up around hockey rinks, playgrounds, or normal childhood environments.

I grew up around golf courses, driving ranges, indoor golf facilities, buckets of range balls, leather grips, cigarette smoke, and grown men trying to cure a slice while wearing plaid pants that probably required a permit.

My earliest memories are of being at a golf course, a driving range, or an indoor golf facility watching my father run golf operations and teach the game.

From the beginning, I had access to a golf facility. I had clubs. I had a teacher.

So naturally, I started golfing shortly after I learned to walk.

Possibly before.

The records are unclear.

I spent years watching my father teach golf in the 1960s and 70s, and to this day I still remember some of the training aids that were available at the time.

And let me just say this:

Golf training aids have come a long way.

Today we have launch monitors, video analysis, pressure mats, 3D motion sensors, wearable technology, and apps that can measure almost everything except the exact moment your soul leaves your body after a three-putt.

Back then?

Apparently the design philosophy was:

"Can we make this out of leather, rope, metal, and fear?"

One training aid in particular caught my attention, and somehow I've never forgotten it.

It was designed for golfers who were "lifting their head" or "taking their eye off the ball."

Now, as we know today, that phrase is often thrown around far too casually. Most golfers are not actually lifting their head. They're moving their body, changing posture, losing angles, or reacting to a poor motion.

But back then, subtle diagnosis wasn't always the first stop on the instruction train.

No, no.

Back then, if you lifted your head, someone apparently thought the solution was to attach you to a device that looked like it came from the clearance rack at the Marquis de Sade Golf Academy.

Here's how it worked.

There was a strap system that went over the top of your head, sort of like a hat.

Not a nice hat.

Not a Hogan cap.

Not anything remotely stylish.

More like a hat designed by someone who also manufactured livestock equipment.

From each side of this headpiece, straps ran down below your chin where they joined together. From there, a line continued down the front of your body to just below your waist.

And at the end of that line?

A metal hook.

Yes.

A metal hook.

Now this particular device was only used by men.

And where do you think that metal hook went?

Exactly.

Somewhere you would very much prefer not to have a metal hook.

The idea was that you would attach the hook, pull the line tight with a sliding wooden dowel, and then make a golf swing while being strongly encouraged — and I do mean strongly encouraged — to keep your head down.

So there you were, standing on the tee deck wearing a strange strap-hat contraption with lines running under your chin, down your body, and ending in a location where no golf training aid should ever end.

You teed up the ball.

You looked down the fairway.

You made peace with your maker.

You said a couple of quiet Hail Marys.

And then you swung.

If everything went well, you might hit a nice shot.

If everything didn't go well, you were introduced to a level of feedback that TrackMan still cannot provide.

To be fair, the device probably worked.

Not because it improved your swing mechanics.

Not because it taught proper posture, rotation, sequencing, balance, low-point control, or centeredness of contact.

It worked because after one mistake, you became extremely committed to keeping your head still.

Possibly for the rest of your life.

I'm not sure if this training aid helped anyone become a better golfer.

But I'm fairly certain it convinced many golfers that maybe bowling wasn't such a bad sport after all.

And this is why, when people complain about modern golf instruction being too technical, I smile.

Because yes, today we may talk about club path, face angle, attack angle, low point, pressure shift, and centeredness of contact.

But at least we're no longer attaching people to medieval rope-and-hook devices and calling it a lesson.

Progress, my friends.

Progress.

If you’ve still been able to walk normally after taking a golf lesson…

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The grass is green.

The flowers have bloomed.

The sun is shining.

The golf course is pristine.

It's a perfect day for golf.

I'm out playing with three very good friends and we're trying a golf course none of us have ever played before — a course so highly recommended that people spoke about it like it was Augusta National mixed with heaven.

So far, they weren't wrong.

We're standing on the 7th hole and everything is going beautifully.

Nobody has fallen into a river.

None of the cart batteries have died.

Nobody has snapped a driver over their knee.

And perhaps most impressively of all...

Nobody has said:

"I think I found something..."

while standing beside somebody else's golf ball in the rough.

All is right with the world.

And then, like a glorious mirage rolling down the cart path...

...the cart girl appears.

The universally beloved supplier of cold drinks, questionable sandwiches, optimism, and financial instability.

But this time something seems different.

Sitting beside her is a man wearing a button-down dress shirt and a tie — which feels wildly out of place on a golf course where half the membership is wearing wrinkled cargo shorts and shirts untucked enough to qualify as curtains.

The cart pulls up.

The cheerful cart girl hops out and asks:

"What would you like, gentlemen?"

Feeling unusually confident after birdieing two of the first seven holes, I decide:

"Get whatever you want, boys. I've got this."

Three beers.

One Coke Zero for me.

Three bags of chips.

One bag of peanuts.

And, of course, the obligatory golf course ham sandwich — a food item that somehow exists at every golf course in North America despite nobody ever specifically craving one.

Then comes the moment.

The cart girl punches numbers into the calculator with the seriousness of a tax analyst preparing for an audit.

Finally, she looks up and says:

"That'll be $65 please, sir."

At that exact moment, I was incredibly thankful I hadn't already taken a bite of the ham sandwich because I may have actually choked to death right there beside the 7th fairway.

Sixty-five dollars.

For snacks.

At this point I briefly considered asking if the beers came with partial ownership of the golf course.

Still, I reminded myself:

You are trapped.

You're basically a hostage standing in the middle of 200 acres holding a 7-iron and a scorecard.

So I begin digging through my golf bag searching for my wallet like a raccoon rummaging through a restaurant dumpster.

As I hand over my credit card, I casually ask:

"So... who's the fellow in the shirt and tie?"

Without missing a beat, she replies:

"Oh, that's the loan officer... in case somebody needs help paying the bill."

Honestly?

That may have been the funniest thing I heard all year.

So I paid the bill, gave her a $10 tip — because at that point the financial damage had already been done — and we carried on with the round.

And you know what?

It still turned out to be a great golf experience.

Because sometimes the difference between a good golf day and a bad golf day simply comes down to your attitude.

Sure, the snacks cost roughly the same as a minor kitchen renovation...

...but there were still a couple birdies out there waiting for me.

This next part is where we usually give you a better understanding of something that actually can help your swing

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Do you suffer from Early Extension?

Do you find yourself standing up at exactly the wrong moment?

Do your hips move toward the golf ball when they should be doing almost anything else?

Do your hands suddenly run out of room halfway through the downswing and decide the best solution is to throw the clubhead at the ball like you throw money at the weekly lotto?

If this sounds familiar, you may be one of the millions of golfers suffering from Early Extension.

Many sufferers report feeling perfectly normal during the backswing, only to discover that by impact their lower body has moved toward the golf ball faster than shoppers heading for free samples at Costco.

In severe cases, golfers have been observed standing so upright through impact that witnesses believed they were attempting to look over a backyard fence.

Researchers estimate that Early Extension is responsible for approximately:

Fortunately, there is hope.

Unlike many medical conditions, Early Extension is not caused by genetics, poor nutrition, or exposure to reality television.

Instead, it is often caused by a breakdown in body geometry during the downswing.

In simple terms:

Your hips or pelvis move toward the golf ball.

Your upper body and chest move away from the ground.

And you find yourself in a standing-up position where all sorts of terrible things begin to happen.

Your arms lose room.

Your club comes away from the ground. (Read: thin shots.)

Your club moves closer to you. (Read: toe shots.)

And suddenly everyone involved is trying to occupy the same piece of real estate at the same time.

The result?

Thin shots.

Toe shots.

Shanks.

Pull hooks.

Blocks.

And the overwhelming desire to buy a new driver even though your current driver is completely innocent.

Chaos.

Pure, unfiltered golfing chaos.

If you think you may suffer from Early Extension, consult your local PGA Golf Professional immediately.

Treatment may include posture drills, hover drills, understanding body geometry, and occasionally being told things you didn't want to hear but probably needed to hear.

Side effects of successful treatment may include:

Because unlike taxes, root canals, and your mother-in-law's opinions...

this problem can actually be fixed.

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Closing

If you've made it this far...

there's a reasonable chance you've been moving closer to the golf ball than your spouse would appreciate.

My goal with The Golf Scene is simple:

To help you understand the game a little better,

make your bad shots a little less bad,

and maybe even help you enjoy it a bit more along the way.

Because let's be honest...

👉 this game doesn't need to be any harder than it already is.

If you found this useful (or at least mildly entertaining), feel free to share it with:

And if you’re looking to take your game a step further…

👉 I’d be happy to help — in person or online.

David Govan
PGA of Canada Professional

Golf Excellence Academy
Modern Golf Instruction

Creator of the 5C Golf Performance System
👉 GolfExcellence.ca

Ps — Next week — more golf experiences, we visit the Marque de Sade Golf Academy, and the loan officer and the beverage cart