Start with Lewis Black. Hard as it may be to believe, the stand-up comedian is a golfer. Not a very good one, by his own admission, but like the rest of us he’s bitten by the bug. When he talks about his game now, he begins to rant, rave, and fulminate just as he does on stage and on “The Daily Show” when talking about government, politics, and other less important topics.

I learned this while interviewing Lewis for a Q&A that appears in the June issue of Golf Digest, available in a few days. He’s a very funny, very bright guy, with interesting things to say about the game and other subjects in the interview. I hope you’ll look for it.

Since I’m a Lewis fan, I drove to Turning Stone, the resort/casino in upstate New York last week to see him live. Besides the obligatory casino-type amenities, Turning Stone, part of the Oneida Indian Nation, has three terrific golf courses (by Tom Fazio, Robert Trent Jones Jr., and Rick Smith), two fun par-3 courses, a luxury spa, and a “golf dome” for teaching and practice. For a little while it looked as if Lewis and I would tee it up the morning after his show, but the weather—unusually warm for spring just a week before—turned cold and nasty. It actually started snowing.

So I went to the dome instead, where there are two great teachers—Marty Nowicki and Brian Rogish—who I heartily recommend if your game is, like mine, a bit needy. Definitely worth the time.

Working on his game in the hitting bay next to me was Goose Gossage, the former New York Yankee pitching star and current Hall of Famer. We’d met at Lewis’ show the night before and spent about two hours talking about baseball, golf, family, and just about everything else. A truly nice guy—and another golf fanatic—Goose was at Turning Stone to play with some VIPs. Although he’d come from his home in Colorado, it was too cold and nasty even for him. The dome was the perfect solution.

The connection in all this, of course, is golf. Great courses at Turning Stone, which I’ve written about before. The upcoming Lewis Black interview in Golf Digest. Goose Gossage, there to play and work on his game. And me.

And that is why I love this game.

Having lived around New York my entire life and in the city the last seven years, it’s nice to know there are still new experiences to be had here. However, going to the Police Department’s Tow Pound to get my car back is one I just as soon would have passed on.

At least now I can cross it off my bucket list.

I was so excited driving back into the city yesterday afternoon to find a spot right across the street from our apartment. Pulled in, turned off the car, and because it’s a street I park on all the time, didn’t even think to look up and notice that a new “No Parking” sign had gone up due to some construction on the building I was in front of. Never occurred to me to even check since all the streets in the neighborhood are good for parking after 1 pm. Honest.

But when I went out today to run some errands, I turned toward the spot and the vehicle there looked like ours—another small silver SUV—but not quite right. A closer look proved it wasn’t our car at all, and after walking up and down the street thinking I must have parked it somewhere else, I was convinced it had been stolen. Until my wife pointed out the new sign—right over where the car had been—that was as invisible to me as a ghost.

Back upstairs, a call to the Tow Pound, which is located on the docks along Hudson River, and into a cab. Yes, there was a little more screaming and teeth gnashing and cursing than that, but this is a family website. We got to the office, the line wasn’t too bad, I showed my license, started filling out the paperwork, and while waiting for my name to be called to take the car away—$185 later, mind you—my wife said, “Did you bring the keys?”

Uh, no.

While I waited, she got back in a cab, back uptown, got the keys, and returned in about 25 minutes. At which point we were lead into the cavernous garage, to our car, and set to drive it away…until I noticed there was a parking ticket on the windshield. Another $95.

I comfort myself by thinking that the city needs the money. I won’t ask for what.

There are many morals to this story: Look for signs even if you know the street. Check a second time. And don’t go to the Tow Pound without your keys.

On the upside, the pound takes credit cards. Who said New York isn’t a friendly place?

I wish I’d seen this before The Masters.

Click on this link to Fast Company magazine’s website, to see (and perhaps buy) a very interesting poster that shows how all 18 holes at Augusta National have been changed over the years. As the artist/writer, Bil Younker, shows, there have been numerous alterations to stop the spread of technology from making the course too easy. Of course there are references to equipment and Tiger-proofing, etc. But it’s the side-by-side diagrams, with capsule descriptions, that make the poster worth viewing. And for you nuts out there, purchasing.

The analysis is a little simple, as it’s not for a hard-core golf audience. But as I’ve learned in nearly 30 years in the golf business, anything about Augusta National and The Masters is going to have an audience. Let me know what you think.

Here is a link to an article that appeared on the Yahoo sports site by a friend, Dave Seanor, who used to be the Editor of GolfWeek magazine. He writes in various places and is worth searching out because he says interesting things like this: Even if Tiger Woods does return to past form, the game of golf will not be saved.

I could not agree more. Dave has numerous facts and figures to back up his contention. Let me offer a few more, most of which are somewhat anecdotal.

I remember very well when Tiger turned pro, the “Hello, World” commercial, and the following uproar. To his credit, Woods immediately quieted any negativity with an amazing run of golf in the second half of the 1990s and a good part of the 2000s.

However, as I never tire to pointing out to people who want to talk about the “Tiger Effect,” at almost exactly the same moment that Tiger turned pro in 1996, the game started to slip. And by that I mean participation. There were, as Seanor points out, a few blips of golf activity, particularly among African-Americans. But rounds started to go down, the number of players went down, and the golf industry started a long, painful swirl into a toilet bowl of economic trouble that it is still not out of.

Where Tiger had a huge effect was, of course, on television. Viewership numbers soared, sponsors came a-runnin’, purses went up, and the PGA Tour started minting millionaires who barely recorded any top-10 finishes during a season. Good for them and their pensions, but not good for golf. And certainly not good for the rest of us, the real golfers who keep the game going and—unlike the pros—actually pay for clubs, balls, tee times, cart rentals, shoes, shirts, etc. (As I was just reminded again last week by someone at one of the major equipment manufacturers, tournament success does almost nothing to drive equipment sales. Figure that out!)

But participation? Down, down, and down some more. This year’s PGA Merchandise Show back in January showcased its usual “cautious optimism,” a phrase I’ve been using for so long I should have it tattooed on, as should all the other gearheads breaking their jaws trying to put on a brave face.

I hear that equipment sales are up this year, as are rounds played. I certainly hope so, not only for my benefit as someone who tries to make a living covering the golf world, but for those people who will discover a truly great game.

I hope they are driven to give it a try because of people like Bubba Watson (Masters champion) and Tom Watson (doing TV ads for The Greenbrier Resort). And because condos and second homes are a steal at some phenomenal golf communities and resorts, equipment has never been cheaper and more technologically advanced, courses are (mixed emotions here) making deals to fill up the empty tee sheets, and the game, while not easy, really can be—as Bubba showed—an act of joy and creativity.

And not, as Tiger Woods seems to demonstrate week after sullen week, that it is the outdoor version of going for root canal.

Personally, I’d love it if Tiger won more. He gets me excited to watch because he is an amazing athlete. But will his success translate into a golf resurgence? Ain’t gonna happen.

P.S. For more on Tiger, take a look at my review of Hank Haney’s book, “The Big Miss,” which takes us as close to Tiger as we’re every likely to get. It is eye-opening, but certainly not heart-warming.

It’s odd for me, as a fellow stutterer, to categorize our mutual condition as a handicap. But I definitely agree with Sophie that it is “part of who I am,” one of many interesting things she says in her acceptance speech, which is now on YouTube and absolutely worth watching. (She chose to prerecord the speech, which was shown to the crowd on video so that they would be out of there “before the first tee time tomorrow morning.”) I might not have thought this in my childhood, but as an adult I am convinced that my stutter has had more positive effects than negative, helping me develop everything from a good vocabulary and sense of humor to a pretty thick skin. Listen to Sophie’s speech and you’ll hear those same qualities in her. And then some.

Just as the Oscar-winning movie “The King’s Speech” did last year (which I also wrote about; stick with it, the download is slow), Sophie’s speaking out should help demystify stuttering for those who still snicker and get impatient when we speak. By coming forward, she is performing a noble and selfless act, acting as a role model and helping thousands of others know they are not alone.

Her bravery speaks for itself.

I didn’t realize until today that Poulter has his own clothing company, called IJP Design, which sells its extensive collection directly to consumers through the website and lists shops and stores around the world where the wares are stocked.

If you want something a little less flashy, Poulter has created a limited edition putter cover and valuables bag for the Masters. It’s the first of four covers, one for each major championship, and available for $70.

Only 750 of “The First Major” covers (right) are being produced, each with its own signed and numbered silver tag. The graphics are bright and colorful—no surprise given his taste in attire—and include both Ian’s signature and a postal motif, which, I’m told, refers to his nickname of “The Postman.” I’m not quite sure where that nickname comes from, but unless he starts to “deliver” on Tour his detractors are going to accuse him of just “mailing it in.” (After a slow start to the year, his 3^rd-place finish in last week’s Arnold Palmer Invitation should be an indication of better things to come.)

Poulter is also one of the more candid and outspoken of the Tour players on twitter. He is worth following at @ianjamespoulter.

Not a portrait of the author, but pretty close to what my own meniscus tear looked like.

In the Discharge Kit handed me as I checked out of the hospital after my arthroscopic knee operation are four photographs, on which the doctor had written what they show: the torn meniscus; neighboring hard cartilage damage; the meniscus trimmed; and the other side of the joint, which is healthy.

I’ve become fascinated by the four photographs—circular black-and-white images that resemble early pictures of the moon—because they give some evidence, some reality, to the pain I’d been living with the last few years. The meniscus tear resembles a long wispy cloud spoiling an otherwise perfect sky; trimmed it’s pilling on a cotton sweater. The hard cartilage damage—which was unexpected, the doctor told me, not visible on any of my MRIs—looks like wispy hairs, what you might see on a goat. I think the doctor said he trimmed some of them away; we’ll monitor that cartilage over the next few months and if it still bothers me there’s another procedure—something about injecting gel—we might try.

Two days after the surgery (it’s now two days after that), I tried writing about what I’d experienced. I didn’t post it because its self-absorption would have been as painful for others to read as the knee has been for me. However, I like the title, which I heard somewhere: “It’s only minor surgery until it happens to you.”

As far as I can tell, the procedure went fine. Door to door, it took about 8 hours, more than half of that spent waiting to move into the next room. I wasn’t nervous, but did experience a few moments of reflection, particularly when I was finally heading into the OR and the physician’s assistant wheeling my gurney asked if I wanted to ride or walk in. As the doors opened, I walked in and realized—gazing on a scene we’ve all become accustomed to from television—that although I’d been hearing for years that the surgery was “nothing,” it was still surgery.

Home now, I think my recuperation has been very good. I only needed pain killers the first 24 hours, the swelling has gone down significantly, I’ve taken a walk outside, and I’m feeling only minor pain from the required exercises. I start physical therapy on Tuesday, when the pain is likely to increase. But so, I assume, will my function and mobility.

The first morning after the surgery I wasn’t thinking of when I’d play golf or ride a bike again but if I’d ever walk again. It hurt, and in such a way that it was impossible not to think that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. That passed and I’m already glad for having done this: The current pain isn’t the sort of discomfort I’d been living with, but of healing, of incisions and stitches, of normal motion inhibited by abnormal swelling. I’ll ask the doctor about the gel, maybe getting it in the other knee, as well, which has hurt for nearly as long but never showed any tears: I’m betting that the hard cartilage damage, which is a form of arthritis (a family trait, I’m sorry to say), affects both knees.

My original calendar was to be playing golf on May 3. I now have the opportunity to play about a week earlier, and I’ve mentally penciled it in. That’s how good I’m feeling. Now. It could change.

Define overweight anyway you want—body-mass index, too much belly falling over the top of your pants (what a friend calls “dunlap disease”: Your stomach dun lap over your belt), or your clothes don’t fit. You know when you’re overweight and most of us are.

So says golf’s leading food and weight-loss coach Larry Jacobs (left), who offers a program aimed specifically at fellow golfers. About 35 years ago, Jacobs was suffering “incapacitating belly pain” that no doctor or ER could identify. It took two years to find a nutritionally aware physician who suggested it could simply be a particular food not agreeing with him; they soon determined that Jacobs was allergic to eggs. After his disabling pain vanished he was inspired to learn all he could about food, health, and fitness, and help others suffering similar conditions.

The original plan wasn’t specifically designed to help clients lose weight, but as they identified and eliminated problem foods, Jacobs noticed they were getting smaller and feeling better overall. So his program eventually became more about helping people with big bellies rather than bad bellies—with an important difference.

“I don’t like the word ‘diet,’” he says. “Diet means eating less, counting calories, and trying to defeat your hunger: If that worked we’d see a lot more thin people. Whatever ‘weight’ people lose that way, maybe half is fat and the other half is muscle and water, which you don’t want to lose. And eventually they get hungry again, revert to old habits, and put back some, all, or more of the weight they’d lost.”

Jacobs’ program—conducted through teleseminars that can be attended online or over the phone—begins by helping each individual identify his or her problem foods. He is very specific about what to give up temporarily and what can be eaten (as much as one likes) in the first two weeks. His information on “Eating Clean” is delivered in two-week intervals.

“I make a big promise: I can show any golfer how to go from being a fat storer to a fat burner in two weeks or less without dieting, calorie counting, or starving—guaranteed. In the first session, I temporarily take people off a handful of very common foods that statistically cause difficulties, foods like nuts, dairy, and a few others. When you go off those it’s amazing what happens to how you look and feel. And there are 50 or 60 foods that you can eat with no restrictions. It’s about eating clean, eating the right proteins, the right fats and oils, the right carbohydrates and starches, the right beverages. Since food is the foundation, when you finally get that right the results can be amazing.”

For golfers, Jacobs breaks the day into a front nine (morning) and back nine (afternoon/evening), and says that just as in a round of golf, you can make a lot of pars, birdies, even the occasional bogey or other.

“If you get a good breakfast and some physical activity early it’s like being under par. But if you screw up and don’t get your exercise, that’s a bogey. But just being a few over par isn’t going to ruin your game or your handicap, and you have the rest of the day to salvage the round. Even if you make a double-bogey you don’t give up the game; you get back to trying to make pars.”

There is much more to the program, explained in great detail at Jacobs’ website, thingolfer.com. His next series of seminars begins on February 15^th, and is being offered at half-price. They always sell out.

Larry Jacobs gives new meaning to “thin to win.”

Even if you don’t usually get excited about golf towels you will love these because they feature two terrific caricatures based on “Caddyshack”—inarguably the best golf movie and one of the funniest movies ever made.

Created by artist David O’Keefe and made by Devant Sport Towels, the towels actually have names (hey, this is fine art after all): “A Cinderella Story” and “Bushwood—A Tribute to Caddyshack.”

If I have to explain who any of the characters are then you probably shouldn’t buy them. But I’ll bet your golf-loving friends don’t need any explanations.

O’Keefe’s caricatures are as good as any I’ve seen, certainly the best Carl Spackler ever. O’Keefe has done paintings of other movies, as well—including “The Godfather,” “Dirty Harry,” and my favorite, “Animal House”—plus sports figures, TV shows, rock ‘n’ roll, and more. They’re all similarly authentic and hilarious.

Prints, sculptures, t-shirts, even puzzles of O’Keefe’s work are available from his website. That’s also where you’ll find the Caddyshack towels, or at those golf shops lucky enough to carry them. They are 16×25 inches and made with a patented high-definition digital-technology process that creates a sharp, quality image while keeping the towel functional and fluffy. Each one is $24.95.

Sometimes, even for me, a picture is worth 1,000 words. So what are two pictures worth? Priceless. As you can see.

There have been 59 PGA Merchandise Shows and I’ve been to the last 28. While I’ve obviously missed a few, I’m willing to bet that it’s rarely been more difficult after a show is over to know where the golf industry is headed.

According to the official tallies, more than 42,000 visitors looked at wares from more than 1,000 exhibitors. More than 6,000 people attended Demo Day. I shudder to think how many balls were hit.

Yet inside Orlando’s Orange County Convention Center the atmosphere was less than robust. Maybe it’s just my aging eyes, but the aisles never seemed too crowded, the booths rarely stuffed. Even the fashion section—which has grown year after year as “hard goods” has shrunk—was quieter than I remember.

I’ve been hearing for years that the show is no longer about writing orders or significant product introductions. I describe it like a high-school reunion: A chance to see how everyone looks and perhaps more important, to note who didn’t attend. It’s also a great chance to catch up with old industry friends, of which I’m happy to say I have many.

So what was there to see? I noticed a few trends, which I’ll mention here and follow up on over the next few days. There are always dozens of products worth describing: Check out the stories I’ve already posted and you’ll see what I mean. There will be more to come so please keep checking back.

The big news of the last few shows has been in technology, and that remained true last week. I love geeky products like Swingbyte, a tiny device (right) that clips to the clubshaft and sends a frightening amount of data on your swing to an iPad or smartphone. The GolfBuddy Voice is a new GPS unit, about the size of the ipod shuffle, that speaks out yardages. It will be available in the spring.

There’s also great work going on in clubfitting (perhaps the most overlooked tool in the game), nowhere more interesting that at Swing Labs, which can tell after just 15 swings if your clubs are right for you. They say the average distance gain for 90% of the golfers they work with is 10 yards.

As noted, there are few big introductions at the show in clubs and balls. My inbox receives press releases announcing new gear almost every week. But it was a chance to actually see and touch some of the new stuff like TaylorMade’s RocketBallz, Nike’s VrS, Ping’s i20, Callaway’s RAZR Fit and RAZR XF, and TourEdge’s XCG5, plus new balls from Titleist and Bridgestone among others. Among the lesser-knowns, the innovative short-game system of clubs from SCORGolf (shown at top) is fascinating, while the balls from Innovex are pretty damn good for half the price of big-name pellets.

One area of surprising change is footwear. Ever since Fred Couples began wearing what looked like skate-boarding shoes the golf-casual trend has taken off. Fred’s brand, Ecco (left), is leading the charge with new looks and technology both above and below the sole. I loved the insanely comfortable shoes from True Linkswear, while there were designs both new and retro from adidas and Nike (which I’ve already written about), and a company called Barefoot BERBS. At the more traditional end of the scale, it’s hard to make shoes that look and feel better on and off the course than those from Allen Edmonds.

Slight tangent here: Looking at the new shoes and traction systems I couldn’t help but recall the big stink that accompanied the introduction of softspikes about 15 years ago. Golfers fretted about slipping either while swinging or walking down clubhouse steps. Guess those problems slipped away.

Retro was also big in the fashion aisles. Being a child of the ‘60s I waxed reminiscent at the new Arnie line from Quagmire (below). If you fondly remember the Munsingwear penguin, small collars, real polyester, and shirt pockets with flaps (to say nothing of the cigarette packs in those pockets), then check it out. There are also some fun t-shirts there, as there are from Linksoul, a new company from fashion legend John Ashworth that further enhances his reputation for style and quality.

Another aspect of fashion, hardly contained to the soft-goods arena, is color. Everywhere I looked was color: blindingly bright, almost luminescent, an appropriate wonderful world of color in the town that Disney built.

Cobra/Puma has staked its claim to orange, thanks in part to staff player Rickie Fowler (above, in orange of course), and actually displayed its new clubs surrounded by Florida’s favorite fruit. There were brightly hued grips and balls, too. And in the fashion aisles the entire spectrum was on display, an absolute rainbow in every booth. From industry leaders like Ralph Lauren and Greg Norman to the new blood at Abacus and Sligo, it was a ‘60s Technicolor explosion tripping through the traditionally staid game, like Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Wolfe teeing it up while dropping acid.

Which begs a question: Do dynamic colors signal a coming upturn in the economy, a leading indicator of bright times ahead? Or do we turn to a pulsating palette when times are tough and we need something to stir our souls? Like when the groundhog sticks his head above ground in a few days, does effervescent color mean many more months of economic winter or can we expect a spring-like rebirth?

No matter how the golf economy does in the short term, I’m not alone in worrying about where the game will be 5, 10, 20 years down the line. As always, the PGA Show featured numerous lectures, panels, and initiative launches regarding golf’s future. I hardly heard it all, but amid all the gum-flapping and finger-wagging was one fact, stated by Jack Nicklaus, the greatest player of all time, that gave me pause: Speaking about his own family, Jack said that of his 22 grandchildren, only 1 has any real interest in golf.

If that’s the future of golf then color me blue.