Why did I sell these putters?

Two clubs I should never have let go (and what that says about my historic tinkering).

I recently published a review of the Scotty Cameron Monoblock 6.5, and a reader, quite rightly, asked me a painfully fair question: if it fit you that well, why didn’t you keep it?

Which is exactly the point of this post.

I think we’re all guilty of seller’s remorse from time to time — but these two still sting.

Back in 2016, when I first started working with Bruce Rearick of Burnt Edges Consulting, he recommended that I move away from the face-balanced mallet I was using at the time (an Odyssey White Hot Pro #7) and into a heel-shafted blade with much more toe hang, as it would be a better match for my profile from his fitting methodology.

So I did the sensible thing…

…then immediately made it complicated.

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The £99 bargain that actually worked

I bought an Odyssey White Hot Pro #3 because it ticked the brief perfectly — and I’m almost certain it was on sale at the time for only £99.

And annoyingly, it was pretty much perfect.

The more I leaned into what I was learning, the more I saw my putting start to settle down. But because it was “just an experiment” (and because it was “only” £99), I never truly committed to it. My attention drifted to shinier, milled-face alternatives.

White Hot Pro #3 - made even hotter by Fleetwood and Reed

So I sold it.

It’s taken me years and a procession of other putters to get comfortable again — and the maddening thing is that one bloody worked.

And yes, I’ll admit it: I prefer the feel of a milled face over an insert. Maybe I’d feel differently if I played faster greens. But even if that’s true…

…it was still a stupid decision for three reasons:

1. It worked.

2. It’s taken years, but I’ve come full circle back to blade putters.

3. Thanks to Tommy Fleetwood and Patrick Reed playing this model, prices went up after I sold.

Maybe one day I’ll buy another from eBay, but all the examples I’ve seen since have been a bit battered and bruised (or much too expensive).

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The unicorn I practically gave away

The second one hurts for different reasons: it wasn’t just good — it was weirdly rare.

Nike “the Oven” Method 001 - a real Unicorn

It was a Nike Method 001 “Oven” model with a flow neck. For those in the know, “Oven” is the name Nike gave to their Tour Issue or “prototype” products.

I’d never seen one before, and I haven't seen another since. The retail model can still be found occasionally, but not this version.

Good enough to need two photos! What a stupid decision to sell.

I sold it for something like £120, and I’m fairly sure whoever bought it is still quietly chuckling into their morning coffee. The 001 was only ever sold at retail with a plumber’s neck and not a flow neck. I loved the shape, and I putted well with it too.

But (there’s always a “but”)… I never loved the feel of the face with its odd insert. If that had been a fully milled face, I might still have it.

This is my pattern: the moment something new arrives, I’m possibly too quick to sell what it replaced. I don’t like old putters sitting around, tempting me to use them again!

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What I think was really going on

If I’m honest, this post isn’t really about two putters.

It’s about how easy it is to treat golf equipment like a series of short-term relationships.

When something is bought as an “experiment”, I don’t fully trust it — even when it earns trust on the course. Then something prettier comes along, I convince myself I’m being rational, and I hit “sell”.

And then… years later… I’m still thinking about that £99 Odyssey.

There’s truth in the old line:

Act in haste, repent at leisure.

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And if you’ve got your own “why did I sell that?” club… I really want to hear about it in the confessional comments section below.