Logoification, Logoification, Logoification

You know what really grinds my gears...? Pretend-sponsorhsip agreements. That's right - people who like to pretend they have a club, kit, hat and bag deal with a major manufacturer, just like the pros do. It's eye-wateringly pathetic in some cases, especially when the culprit is a fully grown adult, and can't cite impressionable-teen status as a defence for sporting the same logo on every surface of his body... balls, tees, glove, shoes, towel and pitch-mark-repairer.

I have no beef with someone who likes the cut of a certain manufacturer's clubs, and plays mostly that brand over the years as a result. But it's the guys that go further, and won't buy a t-shirt unless it has the logo emblazoned on the chest, and the model code of their driver on the sleeve. There's added hilarity to be found when the brand of choice is, say, Callaway, who don't make putters any more. What to do when you have from 64* lob wedge to 9* driver in the latest Callaway range, but no Callaway putter is available? Oh that's right, they own Odyssey don't they? And their tour staff use Odyssey putters? Right. I'll take an Odyssey putter please...


But every once in a while, a beautiful slap in the face occurs, when the likes of Titleist bring out a brand spanking new range of equipment that is in fact, an absolute turkey. The new line will be hearalded by drool-chinned die-hards of the brand, clutching Golf Monthly, queuing up outside McGuirk's on the Monday morning of release.

Of course, the fact that these new clubs, descended from on high, have sleek aesthetics and feel akin to that of a Nissan Sunny, doesn't really register with, or deter the hard-necked faithful. But you just know in all the excitement and wonder at the drastic and meaningful improvements that have been made since the last model, at least one brain cell up there is putting it's hand up and saying "ehhhh lads... do we have to spend eight-hundred euro on these... they look like a shit starter set?".

But clubs aside, it really is the dedication to buying apparell, parophenalia and acoutrements from one brand, and one brand only, that makes me laugh. As long as there's muppets out there willing to part with their hard earned for Eau De Callaway Pour Homme (the smell of Phil), or workable, forgiving, perimiter weighted Titleist Y-Fronts (the crotch of Davis), the golf retail industry has a bright, bouyant future.