Golf calls itself a gentleman's game. Nobody mentioned that to the guy keeping score.
You know the type. Quiet on the tee box, ruthless on the card, still bringing up your triple bogey from two summers ago like it's fresh evidence. He's not out here to relax. He's out here to collect. This shirt is for that person.
A reaper lining up his scythe like a 3-wood on the front, because his backswing was never really about the ball. On the back, a graveyard where the pin should be, with BURY YOUR COMPETITION written across it in case it wasn't clear what you're about to do.
Nobody's handicap needs explaining twice, least of all yours. Play the round, keep the trash talk to a minimum, and let the shirt handle the intimidation.
100% ringspun cotton (heather colors run a poly blend, because reality has logistics). One more entry in the Killer Golf Performance line, sized for whatever grudges you're carrying into the back nine.
Golf calls itself a gentleman's game. Nobody mentioned that to the guy keeping score.
You know the type. Quiet on the tee box, ruthless on the card, still bringing up your triple bogey from two summers ago like it's fresh evidence. He's not out here to relax. He's out here to collect. This shirt is for that person.
A reaper lining up his scythe like a 3-wood on the front, because his backswing was never really about the ball. On the back, a graveyard where the pin should be, with BURY YOUR COMPETITION written across it in case it wasn't clear what you're about to do.
Nobody's handicap needs explaining twice, least of all yours. Play the round, keep the trash talk to a minimum, and let the shirt handle the intimidation.
100% ringspun cotton (heather colors run a poly blend, because reality has logistics). One more entry in the Killer Golf Performance line, sized for whatever grudges you're carrying into the back nine.
