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Chris ZelkovichPeter Power/The Globe and Mail

I had just met Bradlee Ryall, the man charged with trying to fix my golf game, and within minutes had reserved two potential nicknames for him.

One is The Miracle Worker, a title that will be bestowed upon the director of instruction at Mississauga's BraeBen Golf Academy if he can get me even close to breaking 80.

The other is Victim No. 5, the latest golf instructor to take on the Sisyphean task of trying to teach the game to a man whose body too often acts independently of his brain.

Ryall greeted with a big smile, a firm handshake and told me how excited he was to be part of this project. The man obviously had no idea what he was getting into.

The smile reminded me a lot of Victim No. 2, who looked pretty enthusiastic until our third lesson about eight years ago.

I had arrived early at the driving range to warm up and was doing so by hitting balls at seemingly impossible right angles, rattling them off the dividers the driving range owners had cleverly erected between tees (long before I got there, I must mention).

While assuring the rather frightened-looking guy next to me that this was only a temporary affliction and that there was no need to update his will, I noticed Victim No. 2 approaching. The look in his eyes told it all as he contemplated potential escape routes.

Should he just keep walking, denying he had ever met me and thus protecting his reputation as a teacher of golf? I wouldn't have blamed if he had and actually considered motioning to him to do just that.

But to his credit, he laughed, asked if I was having "a little trouble" and continued his ultimately futile attempts to teach me the game. I see him around now and then, so I know he's recovered and still in the golf business, though I've never asked him if any counseling or institutionalization was involved.

His name will remain confidential to protect the innocent.

But to be honest, after discussing the situation with Ryall, I really believe that he is more likely to be known as The Miracle Worker than to be carried off in a body bag.

While it's possible this may be part of the unrealistic enthusiasm that afflicts all golfers - "I KNOW I can birdie this hole even though I've triple-bogeyed it all seven times I've played here!" - I'm excited by a teacher who has a well-mapped plan for getting me on the right track.

I'm also excited about getting to work with a guy who has a pretty impressive resume.

Ryall heads the BraeBen Academy, which was named the Golf Association of Ontario's facility of the year in 2011. In addition, Bradlee Ryall Golf Enterprises ( www.bradleeryall.com) runs instruction at four courses in Southern Ontario.

But what's most impressive is his philosophy on teaching golf:

"We want to devise a blueprint that will make it very simple for you to improve," he told me, noting that all aspects of the game will be taken into account. "If you improve even a little bit in every area, we're going to see some great results."

While Sisyphus probably told himself he was certain he could get some great results that would push that rock over the mountain, I am certain we will see those results even though the first line on that blueprint sounds a little frightening.

Our first step, Ryall told me, is to play a round of golf together. This is something Victims 1 through 4 never mentioned - either out of fear or a difference in philosophy.

"I can't be an effective coach unless I see you golf," he said. "Most coaches don't ever see their students play. They help them on the range, then ask them how it went.

"I'll be able to go home and reflect on your round."

As I recalled my last round at BraeBen, a converted garbage dump that somehow seems an apt metaphor for my game, I prayed that his home was soundproofed. Reflecting on one of my classic rounds could involve some middle-of-the-night screaming.

It's possible that Ryall has some idea that such reflection could be X-rated. I detected a flicker of doubt in his otherwise unshakably positive approach when I mentioned to him that I had played his course many times, with scores ranging from 84 to 104.

"That's a pretty wide range," he said. What he was thinking was probably more like, "How is that even possible?"

He'll soon find out.

After our round at BraeBen - extra groundskeepers have been hired for the event - he'll test me on his TrackMan Pro video system, which uses radar to test everything about my swing. He'll test my fitness and flexibility, too.

The latter do not concern me at all: I have developed great fitness by climbing hills to find lost balls and have improved my flexibility by twisting myself into pretzel-like shapes to follow errant shots.

Then, after a club fitting session at Glen Abbey Golf Club's TaylorMade testing facility, Ryall will develop a lesson plan based on my greatest needs.

His objective is to teach me how to practise.

"Most people don't know how to do that," he said. "I have to make you your own best teacher."

From there he'll develop drills to correct my weaknesses.

I'm figuring 60 or 70 different should do the trick.

PREVIOUSLY: Getting to the root of my rot Why doesn't golf love me back?

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Chris Zelkovich has accomplished many things in a journalism career that has spanned almost 40 years. He has worked as a reporter, editor and columnist for a variety of newspapers and his work has appeared in several magazines. His 12 years in golf have been somewhat less distinguished.

Bradlee Ryall is a Class 'A' member of the CPGA and Director of Instruction for the Braeben Academy. Nominated for the Ontario PGA Teacher of the Year award in 2009, Bradlee has studied and trained with some of the best golf instructors in the world at the David Leadbetter Golf Academies and served as teaching professional at some of the greatest golfing destinations in the world including the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge in Alberta, Canada.

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