How to steal a gimme
It's Master's week, so here's to a tradition unlike any other—not making putts.
Within a 3-5 foot radius of every cup sits an area where golf’s greatest sorrows collide with the game’s most gracious gifts. Putts that would’ve been sure lip outs are conceded as assumed makes. It’s called a gimme—an act of unparalleled sportsmanship and poltroonish self-preservation.
According to Wikipedia, a gimme is “a shot that the other players agree can count automatically without being played…The word is a colloquial contraction of the phrase ‘give me.’” It’s a time-saving technique to prevent amateurs from grinding over two-foot putts that are more likely than not to go in. Well-intentioned for sure, but so was the burnt-to-a-crisp lasagna I cooked for my wife last week…
I’m not against gimmes, despite the way they take the purpose of a game where the goal is to get the ball into the hole and turn it into a game we might as well call, “get it close and keep going” (would you give a basketball player two points just for driving into the paint?). They serve a purpose and that’s fine. So, because gimmes are here to stay, we should look at the lost art of how to take them. I’m not talking about how to accept them, but rather how to steal them.
The length at which a gimme is given varies from player to player, group to group, course to course. Which means this loosely defined formality begs to be taken advantage of. If you’ve missed a put by a few feet, but no one has made any signs of concession, don’t worry. Here are a few techniques to help you take what is rightfully yours…
The One-Footed Leaner: Walk up to your 3-footer with a mix of confidence and frustration (if you can mutter to yourself along the way, that helps), stand on one foot, contort yourself in an effort to avoid “someone else’s line,” and give the putt a quick tap without lining it up at all. If it goes in, great. If not, just scoop it with your putter and exit stage left. When someone asks your score on that hole, assume the gimme was given. No one will press you on it. If they do, act shocked and sincerely offer to go back and hit the putt “for real.” The more passive aggressive playing partners will give you an eyeroll, but even then, they won’t make you putt again. Count it.
The Flag Stick Smacker: The USGA’s declaration that the flagstick may remain in the hole while putting may be a gimme thief’s greatest asset. For this sneak, you’re going to walk quickly up to your ball, again, don’t line it up (never line it up), and hit it as hard as you can into the flagstick—rattling the ball off the green toward the carts is ideal. This action says, “If I’m accurate enough to hit the flagstick, I obviously would’ve made the putt.” Your playing partners will have no choice but to agree with this unspoken sentiment.
The Back-Handed Poker: This is much like the One-Footed Leaner, only in reverse. If you’re right-handed, putt the ball lefty using the backside of your putter (a variant of this method can be done with a wedge after you’ve chipped). If you skull it or chunk it, no one will blame you. It was obviously a gimme. That’s why you didn’t actually try to make it. Your nonchalance is key here. You’re walking up to the hole with the assumption that the ball is already in. Making it is an added bonus that also signals to other players that if you can make the putt back-handed (or with a wedge), then this length is undoubtedly within gimme range. Make or miss, you’re not surprised. When everything is a given, everything is a gimme.
It’s that simple. Turning unspoken etiquette into self-serving practice, a tale as old as Old Tom Morris.
So, here’s to turning 101’s into 95’s and 95’s into 89’s. Here’s to exaggerated handicaps and inflated egos. Here’s to using social dynamics to your advantage in an effort to put your friends and playing partners in uncomfortable situations as you avoid mastering a skill that the pros make look effortless.
Here’s to golf—a game where 300-yards and 3-feet really aren’t that different. Happy Master’s week.
Thanks for reading this far.
- jd
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Writings
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The truth is simple: there’s no other tee box in the world where you’re more likely to hit a dead top. If the first tee was the only shot you got to hit when playing The Old Course in St. Andrews, it would still be worth the price of admission. It would still be a story you could tell your friends.
Are We Gambling or Are We Investing?
When Jordan Spieth holed out for eagle on the 16th at Pebble Beach, Abby won $3. This is only one example of how her $100 DraftKings dollars are currently beating my $100 Robinhood dollars. Still, it’s unclear which one of us is gambling and which one of us is investing.
This one isn’t golf related, but Abby wrote it, and it’s absolutely worth your time. It’s my unbiased opinion that no one is better at valuing the emotional complexity of historical figures than my wife. John Knox is just one example of someone who, when you read his letters, shows you a side the history books never will.
Book Reviews
The Golf Omnibus by P.G. Wodehouse
For the casual golf fan, the high-handicapper, the tour pro, and everyone in between, Wodehouse’s collection of golf hilarity are well worth reading—if not for the sole reason of meeting The Old Member and discovering what exactly a niblick is.
Golf is Not a Game of Perfect by Bob Rotella
The best part of this book is its title. Golf isn’t about perfection. And neither is life. Without getting too theological, there’s a wonderful picture of God’s grace in there. Even between shanks and skulls, golf is a place where you can still find God.
Beverage
I know what you’re thinking. “That’s just a Chick-fil-a cup! How am I supposed to know what’s in it and what beverage we’re reviewing?!” It’s okay. I’m going to tell you what’s in the cup. Inside is what I like to call an Arnie Palmie Alert (which is a misquote from this clip) aka an Arnold Palmer aka half lemonade half sweet tea aka how has no one pointed out that he’s profiting by putting his name on two drinks that already existed aka it’s okay it’s Arnie he can do what he wants. I know a lot of people drink this out of the Arnold Palmer/Arizona Ice Tea collab can, but don’t do that. That’s not the way God, I mean Arnie, intended it. Like it does with all things, Chick-fil-a makes this drink better. There is, and I will forever die on this hill, no better Arnie Palmie Alert than the one served by Chick-fil-a. Don’t @ me. I’m right. Leave me alone. Anyway, this drink pairs best with any book that can be read while golf is on TV in the background.
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If you’re reading this and have no interest in golf, what can I even say that would make up for all the drudgery you just endured to scroll down here? You are smart and kind and brave and beautiful and no one can take that away from you. And I know you’re nervous that this is the part of the email that’s for the cool crowd only, but is it still going to relate to golf because please I don’t want to read another thing about that stupid game please please please talk about something different. It’s okay. I hear you. I understand you. And I have a question for you that is tangentially related to golf DON’T SCROLL AWAY but also not really at all. The question is this: what is your go-to “I just stepped on a Lego piece in the middle of the night” cuss word? For the golfer, this is the word you say on every other hole. For others it’s the stubbed your toe so hard this word is coming out and there’s nothing I can do to stop it word. The I just closed my finger in the refrigerator door and how could I possibly be capable of such an infuriating self-injury my only response is to yell out _____. My answer to this question starts with an s and ends with hit and there are also no other letters in between those two things. What’s yours? Also, I know some of you are going to respond and say that you really don’t use curse words, and I want you to know that I fully believe you, admire you, and hope to one day be sanctified to the point where I’m like you…but still…what do you say when you’ve hit your knee cap on the corner of the coffee table? You have to say something, right?