My driver is like my girlfriend, unpredictable but addictive

THERE ARE FEW relationships in a golfer's life that can rival the one we share with our driver.

- Rahil Gangjee

Some players talk about their coach, some about their caddie, and a few even give credit to the gym for keeping their bodies in shape. But for me, nothing defines the highs and lows of my golfing life like that big stick in the bag.

If you ask me, my driver is a lot like a girlfriend—unpredictable, moody, and occasionally the best thing that's ever happened to me. One moment it makes me feel like Rory McIlroy, bombing it down the middle, chest puffed out, smile for the cameras. The next moment, it reminds me that heartbreak is only one swing away. Slice into the trees? Hook into the lake? Oh yes, I've experienced it all.

And yet, I keep coming back. Why? Because, just like love, the driver is addictive. You can't quit it. You promise yourself you'll "just hit 3-wood for safety," but then you stand on the tee, the fairway stretching out in front of you, and that 460cc temptress whispers in your ear: Go on, big guy. Show them what you've got.