It’s not me, it’s you.

Yes, you heard that right. There comes a time in every golfer’s life when they just have to make a clean break.

We’ve been struggling along for too long. It’s getting too painful…blah blah blah – just get out of my house.

For those with enough grey hairs to remember, there’s an old Neil Sedaka song called ‘Breaking up is hard to do’.

‘Don’t take your love away from me. Don’t you leave my heart in misery,’ the crooner wails – bereft at the loss of his true love.

Imagine the total opposite of that, a kind of vengeful hate if you will, and that’s where I am this week with a former sweetheart.

I am talking, of course, about my irons.

What makes us great – those six inches between the ears – also makes us complete imbeciles.

I’ve blamed the weather, tiredness – I’ve even blamed my daughter – for my poor play over the past couple of months and, I suppose, equipment was a natural next port of call.

There’s too much offset, I’ve bleated. They don’t sit right on the ground. They look a bit chunky.


Surprisingly, I held a different view when I hit 35 points round Royal Troon.

I’m not going to name the manufacturer. It’s not their fault I break into a seething contempt every time I approach a shot on the fairway.

But once the bile started seeping, there was no stopping it. Those tiny cracks became fissures and it has come to this.

The irons have got to go.

Can’t we give our love another try?

The tipping point came during a quick 5-hole sprint at Moor Allerton, the Leeds course opposite our office, on Tuesday lunchtime.

I’d been striking my approach shots poorly for some time and discontent was spreading like a virus through every open pore.

So when I hit a shank on the 11th, our second hole, and then repeated the trick a couple of shots later, I was ready to fill the nearest bin.

Hopes for reconciliation were not helped when, the next day, and in a state of total desperation, I put three new irons into my bag (a 5, 7 and wedge for anyone who’s interested) and proceeded to pure every shot with them.

Those Mizuno JPX900s really are very hot.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I pulled out of my usual weekly competition on Saturday (I had a better offer, but that would spoil the story…).

I just can’t sanction yet another .1 being added to a handicap mark that’s growing so large, it looks like it spends all day gorging itself on pizza and kebabs.

I am now shopping for new sticks and the anticipation of what will soon be gracing my bag is quickly wiping away all the negativity.

The hunt is on.

* What irons would best suit my game? Let me know in the comments section…