In Greek mythology, the Gorgon is a terrifying creature, so ugly it turns those who look upon it to stone. “Gorgon,” in fact, is derived from the Greek word gorgós, which in English means “dreadful.” Synonyms for “dreadful” include: horrible, terrible, awful, frightful, and appalling…among others.

It’s easy to find references to Greek mythology in modern life. The Oedipus complex as described by Sigmund Freud. Terms like “Achilles heel” and “Herculean task.” The concept of Pandora’s Box. Even an ancient sea creature, the Kraken, has recently been released as a powerful, 94-proof, dark-colored elixir that brings out the fun in certain social situations where writers are involved.

But the Gorgon to which I’m referring, the dreadful monster that for years frightened anyone who dared look up on it, was the golf swing of my long-time friend, Brian Weir. In 1996, when I was first introduced to its complete form, all my own muscles seized up, and I could no longer properly hit the ball…almost as if I had turned to stone. Brian lives in southern California, far away from Oklahoma, so twice a year for a decade the two of us met on golf vacations, enjoying the artistry of many picturesque courses, even if our own games didn’t quite measure up to the beauty of the locations.

On each of these trips I would bring along a video camera to document the experience, footage that never failed to amuse us later. Over time I developed a sizable library of squirrely shots and pushed putts and missed opportunities, but mainly these recordings languished away in magnetic tape obscurity, only emerging when the two of us met again to relive the glory.

Then, in 2005, I saw in ad in Golf Digest, a golf publication that reaches an estimated six million readers per month.

“Do you have the World’s Worst Swing?” asked the ad. “Or know someone who does? If so, make a video and send it to us. You could win six free lessons from Dean Reinmuth, one the top golf instructors in the country.”

The contest was also sponsored by the Golf Channel, which planned to film and broadcast six free lessons awarded to the “winner.” And that’s when an idea occurred to me, an idea that is and probably always will be the best practical joke it’s possible for me to play on anyone.

Until that time I’d dabbled in linear video editing, like hooking VCRs together with cables, but I’d never edited on a computer. I purchased a Windows-based software app and taught myself how to use it over a period of days, painstakingly capturing hours of analog footage in real time. I assembled a collection of the best (or rather, worst) shots, often laughing so hard that I had to stop and compose myself. Then I purchased a microphone and attempted to record voiceover for my two-minute, eighteen-second video. This consumed even more hours, not because I couldn’t figure out what to say, but because I couldn’t go ten seconds without laughing again.

I completed the video two days before the deadline. I watched it again and again and again, supremely confident that, upon viewing, the selection committee at Golf Digest and the Golf Channel would immediately select Brian as the winner. But I also guessed there would be thousands of other submissions, and the chances of them even watching the video were small. Not to mention I was forced to overnight the DVD just to get it there on time.

Then I waited. Every day I would think about the video, and what might happen if my plan worked. To understand the true significance of the joke, you have to know Brian. We met at Texas A&M University. He was a member of the Corps of Cadets, and was commissioned into the military directly after graduation. He served the Air Force for several years, attended Army Ranger school, and reached the rank of Major. He went on to serve local law enforcement in Southern California and is now a sergeant. He is a tough, proud man who does not respond well to ridicule. Of course, we always joke around with each other, but those are private matters. This joke, if it was realized, would be played out on a national scale. Every time I thought about it, it made me laugh.

About two weeks after I mailed the disc, I received a phone call. I looked down and saw it was Brian. I answered, trying to hold my expectations in check. But Brian and I don’t speak on the phone often, and I got that feeling, you know the one.

“What the hell did you do?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Some chick just called me. She said she works for the Golf Channel. Apparently I’ve been chosen as one of ten semifinalists for a contest to find the World’s Worst Golf Swing. And then she gave me the link to a video. A video you made. She laughed at me, man.”

So did I. I couldn’t help it. Someone had actually watched the video! They even put it on the Internet!

“They’re going to call back and interview me in a couple of days,” he said. “You’re an asshole.”

I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“I hope you know paybacks are a bitch,” was his answer.

But after the interview, Brian’s position changed. Apparently he’d impressed them over the phone. Had made everyone laugh. “I’d be on television,” he said. “They’d buy me a new set of clubs. I would get lessons from this famous dude. Did you know he used to coach Phil Mickelson?”

Readers and viewers were asked to visit a web site, check out the videos, and vote on their favorites. Or they could watch a special episode of “Golf Channel Academy” and call in their votes. Brian explained how they were going to include some of the submitted footage on the show. I salivated at the thought of a scene from my video being shown on national television. At the time, the Golf Channel boasted more than sixty million subscribers. I told everyone I knew to watch it. So did Brian.

My DVR was ready. If only a few seconds of my footage was shown, I’d be happy. So imagine my astonishment when “Golf Channel Academy” opened with my video, with no introduction and no voice over (other than my own) for almost two minutes. I was floored. I was ecstatic. After the video, Kelly Tilghman remarked, “The guy who did that voice over deserves an Emmy.”

Hahahahahahaha!!!!11 I said to anyone who would listen. The only thing better than this would be if Brian actually won the contest.

A few weeks later, a crew from Golf Digest visited Brian in California, and I flew out to watch. They brought a high speed camera to capture his swing. This is the camera used to make those fold-out, frame-by-frame pictures of golf professionals. Only the most notable golfers in the world get this treatment. Brian was asked to hit into a net, and the photographer pointed out a patch where the net had been repaired.

“We filmed Retief Goosen last week,” he said. Goosen is one of the best players in the world and has won two U.S. Open Championships. “He hit the ball so hard it tore the net.”

By now Brian was basking in the glow of his possible upcoming fame. He swung as hard as he could. He hit the ground so far behind the ball that the club bounced over the ball. A complete whiff. And the impact with the ground sent a chunk of sod into the net, where it stuck, coincidentally, on the patch created by Retief Goosen.

“Let’s see Retief do that,” Brian remarked.

Every day this was just getting better.

Finally, the day of the selection show arrived. The field of contestants had been narrowed to three, and the Golf Channel planned to announce the winner on the air. All three swings were terrible, but Brian and I couldn’t imagine the others would win. He is a born entertainer. I think he could do standup if he put his mind to it. The combination of my video editing and his comedy couldn’t be beat. Golf Channel invited us both to Orlando, and we managed to play Bay Hill, Arnold Palmer’s famous Florida course. We made friends with the other nominees. But would Brian win? Would it really happen?

It did.

Brian’s six lessons were filmed outside of San Diego, shown nationally on the Golf Channel, and I was invited to be on the final show with him. He was awarded a new set of clubs. He was recognized in airports, in restaurants, and especially on the golf course. His game improved dramatically.

And his swing, frame-by-frame, was featured in the pages of Golf Digest. Twice.

A few years later, after it was all over, Brian told me he was getting married again. In Hawaii. He’d sent me the raw footage from the various Golf Channel episodes, and I kept meaning to make a compilation video for him, but I never got around to it. So, as a surprise, I put together a new video, with old footage and new, and called ahead to the hotel. I set it to music and arranged for it to be shown at a reception before the ceremony.

One more final jab, you know?

As I said before, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to play a better practical joke on someone. It’s one thing to poke fun at your buddy’s golf swing in private, but to bring it to the attention of a national audience…that was sublime.

If you’d like, you can view the original video and the encore presentation below. The second link is on Facebook, so if you can’t see it, send me a friend request and I’ll hook you up. I’ve also included links to a few pictures.

But be careful. Watch these videos at your peril. His old swing could easily turn yours to stone.

World’s Worst Swing Submission Video

World’s Worst Swing Encore

Golf Digest Table of Contents

Golf Digest foldout

Brian and Richard on set

So you think you’ve been writing “forever?” Dan Jenkins, sports journalist and novelist, may have you beat– he’s been writing for over SIXTY years. Successful at just about everything, he has tried his hand at columns for Sports Illustrated and Golf Digest, non-fiction golf retrospectives, and hilarious sports novels.  Jenkins’ writing features his signature wit and sly observations.

WordHustler sat down with this sports writing legend to learn about his start in the industry and his adventures over the years. The real question is: how has Jenkins managed to stay on top of his game for so long? The answer: dedication, hard work, and…Twitter.

Read on to learn how you can score a touchdown for your writing career, with Dan Jenkins as your coach.

WordHustler: You have a journalism background, and have spent time writing for Sports Illustrated, Golf Digest and Playboy…what do you consider your first big break, writing-wise?

Dan Jenkins: My first big break was getting hired by Blackie Sherrod at the Fort Worth Press a month before I finished high school. For the school paper, the Paschal Pantherette, I’d written what I thought was a hilarious parody of a columnist on the rival paper in town, the Star-Telegram. Blackie read it and hired me.

The Press was an afternoon paper. They existed in those days. I worked at the press while getting a degree at TCU. Which means I went to college with a by-line. My first good journalism tip came from Blackie, who said about writing for a p.m. paper, “See how many paragraphs you can go before you put the score in.” Next big break, of course, was enticing Sports Illustrated to hire me. I like to say that I chose them. Sold them four or five freelance pieces. One day the editor called and asked if I’d like to join the staff in New York. I said, “Let me think about it for two seconds.” Big Town Gotham had always been my goal.

WH: You retired from journalism in 1985 to devote yourself full-time to novel-writing (while still maintaining a Golf Digest column). Why did you decide to change paths?

DJ: I still write on deadline for Golf Digest. The fact is, I’ve never had the luxury of just writing books. Always juggled two careers. And why not? It’s what I do, and what I love doing. If I’m proud of anything, it’s that I’ve been able to do the only thing I ever wanted to do since I was a kid and loved to read newspapers and magazines.

WH: You’re basically the John Updike of sports writing, with your lovable Billy Clyde Puckett series of books chock full of humor and wit that span multiple decades. What would you say is the biggest difference between the publishing industry today and the industry when you first started publishing novels in the 1970s?

DJ: Updike? I was rooting for Dostoyevsky, maybe. I write what I’ve known and observed and experienced and stolen shamelessly from my friends. Never been to war, so I can’t write that. But I’ve spent a large part of my life in press boxes, locker rooms, taverns, restaurants, and journalism newsrooms.

The biggest change in book publishing, as far as I can tell, is everybody wants a blockbuster written by a guaranteed best-seller or a celebrity, even if the book isn’t worth a sh*t. Taste no longer counts.

WH: You’ve also written non-fiction books, like “Jenkins at the Majors- Sixty Years of the World’s Best Golf Writing.” Was it a nice change of pace to put your non-fiction pieces together? Were you asked to write the book or did you come up with the collection of essays yourself?

DJ: My non-fiction stuff has sometimes been my idea, and sometimes my publisher or agent’s idea. You do them knowing full well that collections don’t sell, but the material deserves the permanence of hardcover.

WH: You have been very smart about evolving with the times- you even Tweeted from the US Open this year– how did that come about?

DJ: You want the truth about my tweets? The closing dates for Digest were too late for my deadline essays in 2009, so the editors asked if I would tweet the U.S. and British Opens as things happened. I said sure. It worked out so well, they asked me to do the PGA, which I did. It’s fun.

As a journalist on deadline my whole life, I’d learned to “write to fit.” In fact, in my 24 years at Sports Illustrated I would always know my word count and try to nail it exactly, never going too long because if you give an editor choices, he will invariably cut the wrong things. It’s no trouble for me to think in 140 characters. I’m not sure it’s writing, but it’s fun.

WH: What are a few of your favorite books out there today?

DJ: I have heroes I read. Mostly, Elmore Leonard, Michael Connelly, Vince Flynn, Lee Child. I read so much for research, I want to be entertained. And of course I read friends, and my daughter [Editor’s note: noted journalist and author Sally Jenkins], who long ago became the best writer in the family.

WH: What is your preferred writing method? Do you have a certain writing spot or technique?

DJ: I went most of my life on manual typewriters, but finally joined the computer world about 20 years ago.
But one thing you have to guard against is writing too long—because it’s so easy to correct. I used to be a 16-hour a day workaholic. Now I get tired. One day I realized that anything I wrote after, say, 3 in the afternoon had to be redone. It read like some stranger had slipped into my office. Now I’m generally at my best in the mornings.

WH: How do you best balance writing with your family life/other interests?

DJ: Writing has always been part of everything I do. My lovely wife and kids understood this from the beginning. Sure, vacations with no work at times, and holidays, but I always seem to be working on SOMETHING. My youngest son, Danny, was once asked by a friend what it was like to grow up in New York City with us for parents. He said, “They went to Elaine’s every night, then came home and went to Europe.”

WH: Do you find similarities between the game of golf and writing? Has being a life-long golfer helped your writing (besides giving you excellent material, of course)?

DJ: No sport is worthwhile if it doesn’t have a literature. Golf has a wonderful literature. Happy to be a part of it. Football, too. As for golf, I think having been a decent competitive golfer in my youth has helped me write about the game more incisively, but the intelligent writer can handle any subject. It requires study and caring and, at times, the sudden desire to caretake a subject.

WH: What are three things you’d advise aspiring writers to do?

DJ: Be well-read and learn from what you read. Study the ones you consider to be the masters. My hero as a sportswriter, although he was really an essayist, was John Lardner. Not Ring, but his son, John. Newsweek column, New Yorker pieces, etc. Best there ever was. Other heroes of mine were Red Smith, of course, and S.J. Perelman, and Raymond Chandler. Mostly the humorists. Finally, if you want to write, WRITE. Don’t just talk about it. Get a job on a newspaper, if there are any left.

WH: What are three things you’d advise aspiring writers to NEVER do?

DJ: I have my own rules, and some I borrow from Elmore Leonard. Never start a piece with a quote. Learn to establish your voice without using “I.” Give credit all your sources. Listen. Listen. Listen. And don’t try to force-feed an anecdote into a piece when it doesn’t belong just because YOU are fascinated with it. Save it for when it DOES work.

But the best Elmore Leonard quote is this: “If it sounds like writing, I re-write it.”

Spoken like a true champ. So take Dan’s advice and get out there and make your voice heard, Hustlers! Why not submit your work to any of WordHustler’s over 300 publications dedicated to sports & collectibles? Simply click the “Sports/Collectibles” tag on the Publications page and a world of opportunity will appear before you. Keep your eye on the prize and your heart in the game! Keep on Hustlin!