RVGolfer: Let's Ditch this Joint!

by Dale Archibald

During the coldest month of a Minneapolis winter (Feb.), I went to a home show at our beloved Metrodome. Walking up and down the aisles, I chanced upon a young woman promoting chiropractic aid: $25 bought a gift certificate for an xray and a diagnostic in their office.

I’m not a believer in chiropractic medicine., but my lady friend said I was walking a little hunched over I always thought this backcracking was too close to quackery. I waited six months to use the gift certificate, but had already spent the money, so I went. I’m still a little undecided, but the xray of my spine looked like a bow instead of an arrow.

So I let the young woman chiropractor do some work on me. She doesn’t do much at any time. She crunches a couple of spots on my lower back, twists my neck like that Nikita TV teaser (but not so far as the assassin), and messes with my shoulder: whatever I’ve complained about that day.

I don’t know whether it works, but here’s the surprise: the first time I went to the course after I started the chiropractic treatment, I hit the ball straighter and farther than ever. It might be that she straightened out my shoulder problem from too many volleyball years. The second time I went out I was outdriving my buddies…and I never, never do that.

I seem to be in a little less pain from 67 seasons, and I’m enjoying the new length in golf. Did the backcracking make the difference? I don’t chip or pitch any better, but I’m hitting the long irons like never before, and driving a long way.

I’m pleased. Not ready to be the posterboy for chirorpractica, though.

Addendum: The good effects of the efforts didn't last long enough. Perhaps it was because I expected too much, and pressed too hard. It's always something, when it comes to the golf swing. But hope springs eternal, so I continue to drop in for another session of hearing that old snap, crackle, and (ouch!) pop.

(Dale Archibald is a Minneapolis-based writer who's itching to go RVing away from winter.)

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