Everything in his game was considered. Except the one thing touching the club.
His irons had been fitted over many months. His putter was chosen, not settled for. Good shoes, and a watch that caught the afternoon light on the back nine. Then a photograph was taken on the course, and his eye went straight to his own left hand - a thin white glove taken from a rack, the logo already lifting at the edge. Every other thing in that picture had been chosen with care. The one thing actually touching the club had not.
Once noticed, it could not be unnoticed. The men whose company he kept had long since seen to every other detail. The glove was the last thing left to chance - the most overlooked piece of an otherwise considered game. And so he set about putting it right.