We know that certain words have the power to inspire us, provoke us, and even intimidate us. Throughout all of recorded history, incredible acts of good and evil, love and passion have been predicated by the words used in a rousing oration, a motivational monologue, or a timely turn of phrase.
But do some words have power beyond their descriptive use? Are there words so fraught with superstition and taboo that their very utterance can summon mysterious forces of the universe? Are certain words actually portals into the realm of the subconscious, superstition, and dark magic? Are some words actually a curse?
Can someone uttering the word “shank” cause a shank?
The origin of the term “shank” to describe a golf ball hit by the hosel appears to be from the 1920s, but it’s a word that is much older than that. Alluding historically to the part of the leg between the knee and the ankle, it is a term that evolved into describing any part of an object that essentially joined one critical part to another: the shank of an anchor is the part joining the ring to the crown, the shank of a key is the part between the handle and the grooves, the shank of a shoe connects the toebox to the heel. Is it possible that the part of the golf club that connects the head to the shaft was formerly called the “shank”, what we now generally refer to as the hosel? It makes a lot of sense that a shot hit off the “shank” of the club might be called a “shank”, but we’re not etymologists over here. Hell, we’re barely golfers.
Regardless, the act of hitting a “shank” is so distressing that it seems golfers took to avoiding the very existence of the act and made saying the word a breach of etiquette. Research into the actual origins of this superstition yields little results. Like all good golf traditions, this one may have started in Bonnie Scotland, and imported to the US during the golf craze of the 20’s. It turns out it’s hard to find much definitive, scholarly information about a term when it is usually not mentioned. “The first rule of Shank Club is: you do not talk about Shank Club.” Got it.
I am reminded of my theatre friends, who consider the mention of Shakespeare’s Macbeth to be a surefire way to bring disaster to the performance. According to folklore, Macbeth was cursed from the beginning. A threesome of real witches objected to Shakespeare using their actual spells, so they put a curse on all future performances of the play. This supposedly manifested itself from the beginning of its run as multiple actors have died and there have been numerous unexplained accidents. This legend has continued for centuries and has led to the strict prohibition of using the play’s name by the members of the cast and even the audience. Hence, it is known as the Scottish Play. Could the Scottish Play and the Scottish Game share a propensity for curses? Am I the only one connecting the dots here?
It is not lost on this writer that the term “shank” is also slang for a makeshift weapon, perhaps fashioned by a prisoner out of purloined metal, for the purposes of a devious attack on a fellow inmate. The agony such a crude weapon might cause is certainly akin to the pain of a hosel rocket skittering off the fairway far to our right. Many’s the time I’ve wished someone would shank me out of my misery, and I have almost certainly pushed a playing partner or two to consider it after dodging multiple concurrent shanks in their direction.
So, to clarify: while many people have routinely died while acting in Macbeth, or getting shanked in Cellblock S, or being hit by a shanked golf shot, no one has ever directly died from hitting a shank. Yet, the fear remains. Like Harry Potter’s friends had a fear of naming his nemesis Voldemort, golfers go to considerable lengths to avoid uttering “The Shot That Must Not Be Named”. An entire lexicon of alternative terms has arisen that include “Unmentionable”, “Hosel Rocket”, “Socket Rocket”, “El Hosel” (pronounced “el ha-ZELL”) “the Laterals”, “Lucy” (for Lucy Locket), “the J. Arthur” (Rank), “the Ravi” (Shank-ar), “the Armitage” (Shanks), “the Scottish Shot”, “the Sherman” (Tank), “Pitchout”. Others might be inclined toward “Rita Hayworth” (the original source title of the famous movie was “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption”), “Screwed the Pooch” (from The Right Stuff. Right? Get it?), and “I’m Too Sexy (for my Shirt)” (from pop group Right Said Fred). Okay, I admit I made up those last three, but still, someone might use them.
But why the shank? Why not “yip” or “fore”? Isn’t a wayward banana slice or a screaming duck hook just as embarrassing and destructive to our scores? Why is shanking the ball such a dark secret compared to the skyball, the worm burner…not to mention the head-raising almost-whiff of the cold top? For that matter, “whiff” is okay?! I am second to none in my hatred of the shanks, and recognize its particularly devastating effect on my golf psyche. I hate all my numerous foul shots, and yet I don’t hesitate to name them. Is it possible that our shame is giving the shank more credit than it deserves? By avoiding the word “shank”, are we actually feeding it?
Maybe not saying the word shank is making us shank.
I’m not saying that words don’t affect our mental golf games in myriad ways. While I mostly disagree that the shanks are strictly a mental issue, it is certain that a word describing one of our previous failures can bring up fear, bad memories, and distraction, and that can manifest itself as physical tension and rigidity in our bodies. Not a bad way to screw up your swing regardless of the impact outcome.
What I am suggesting is that avoiding the word seems to give it more weight when it is inevitably mentioned by an innocent bystander. And if shanking is a problem we want to truly solve, well, we probably need to talk about it openly. Not many problems have ever been solved by not facing the issue head-on, and calling the issue by its name would seem to be the first step. With apologies to the mental health assistance community (a worthwhile and important entity of our society), it’s almost as if we are trying a kind of exposure therapy here. According to the American Psychological Association, the idea behind exposure therapy is “exposing people to stimuli that cause distress in a safe environment that helps them decrease avoidance and overcome their fear”. If one of those stimuli is the word itself, then we have to say the word.
So, whether you are on the range or in the locker room or on #9 tee, make it a safe space to talk about what’s ailing your golf swing. While it’s true that Justin Rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, a shank is so particularly criminal that it deserves to be called out of the lineup, stood up against the wall, and pointed out to the jury. Don’t let it hide from the light of day, lurking in the shadows just beyond the rough, waiting to strike. Call it out by name so that all good men and women and and even LIV Tour members will know its whereabouts, and we can hasten the day that shanks are unheard-of rather than unmentioned.
Shank.