It’s a stunningly clear late-February afternoon in Creswell, Ore., as I set out on a voyage of self-discovery that doesn’t require a single step. I’m swaying back and forth in place, a pendulum of insecurities, questioning my every movement. I’m being repeatedly asked how I feel, whether actions provoke a response. I’m being taken out of my comfort zone to learn how to achieve stability. I’m being fitted for a golf club, but it feels like a personality test—and one I’m worried I’m failing. I’m being fitted for a L.A.B. Golf zero-torque putter, specifically, testing combinations within a few feet of the company’s headquarters where I’ve spent a day learning about physics, material science, and myself.
It’s an eerily hazy late-February morning in Creswell, Ore., as I set out on a tour of the former Emerald Valley Golf & Resort health club turned R&D facility, factory, distribution center, and corporate offices. L.A.B. Golf thinks different. It’s in the foundation of the company, in the company HQ’s foundations. Unlike the many, many golf companies that have centered themselves around perpetually sunny, 365-day golf season locations like Carlsbad, Calif., and Phoenix, Ariz., L.A.B. is sequestered in the Pacific Northwest, where the sky breathes shades of slate. Unlike many, many golf companies, L.A.B. embraced idiosyncrasies to reduce inconsistencies.
L.A.B. stands for Lie Angle Balance, a proprietary putter system that dares traditionalists to leave behind their artifacts of feel for precisely tuned feedback. It’s an assistive technology built on what science does best: identifying flaws, forming hypotheses, and turning radical concepts into deceivingly straightforward solutions. And that commitment to individually built, painstakingly hand-balanced engineering has seen the independent company grow tremendously over the last decade, particularly post-pandemic.
As sports go, golf can be as conservative as it is competitive. It took time, but carbon fiber, 3-D printing, and plenty of aerodynamic IQ have made their way into drivers, irons, and balls on the regular. It felt, however, that putters still had generations to go before modifications manifested true diversity.
Despite spending nearly half their strokes in a love-hate relationship with their favorite flatstick, golfers often seem reluctant to accept the unconventional—even an evolutionary event that could erase the millimeters between triumph and tragedy. So if a company is going to present something that looks different, that feels different, it has to sell more than a physical object. It has to sell the solution to a physical problem. That’s the premise of L.A.B. Golf putters, which presuppose that, despite whatever bad reads and mental blocks you have, the main issue with your putt isn’t even your tempo. It’s torque.
Don’t get it twisted: Even if you’ve never thought about torque, it’s an invisible par killer. It’s the rotational force that causes an object to twist around an axis. It’s the reason a traditional blade naturally wants to twist open or closed mid-swing as a product of the magnitude of force applied and the distance from the axis of rotation to where it’s applied. It’s the reason golfers must spend so much time practicing micro-compensations. It’s the reason your eyes may be glazing over right now.
The goal, says L.A.B. Golf CEO and self-proclaimed putting psycho Sam Hahn, is not to tell people how to think about putting but to help them have one less friction point to think about while putting. “We’re not offering you a heat-seeking missile; you’ve still got to read the putt, hit at the right speed. Our technology just makes it a little bit easier, lets you take your focus off squaring up the putter face so that you can focus on the other variables and start to tackle them piece by piece.”
As a bar owner who worked nights, leaving him plenty of daylight hours to spend at a dog-friendly municipal course with a border collie mix and the mallet of the month, Hahn became obsessed with putters. And if you think it’s likely that someone who played in bands might be a gear obsession and tone tinkerer, just imagine someone who played in bands and ran a pinball machine-filled nightlife establishment, where angles, trajectory, spin, surface interaction, etc., are as imperative as they are on the green.
A consistently inconsistent putter, Hahn experimented daily, sometimes hole to hole, always thinking he had the next best thing. Then, he came across the next big thing—in more ways than one. Hahn’s instructor handed him the Reno 2.1, a putter by a company called Directed Force that had a profound impact because it forced Hahn to struggle with how to manipulate and articulate captivating new technology.
The Reno 2.1—now called the Directed Force 2.1, or “that cattle brand-looking thing”—was invented in 2014 by former mini-tour player Bill Presse. Traditional putters had an off-axis center of gravity. This misalignment is why they flare the toe. Realizing there were influential forces at work, Presse set out to reverse engineer a new paradigm. He put together a broken crutch and some fishing wire so he could hang and observe how existing equipment flopped during a stroke. Then, he got to prototyping.
Presse started rethinking hosel geometry. He experimented with boring the shaft hole into the head at an angle aligned with the shaft’s lie. He then tinkered with balancing the putter by a series of up to eight high-density weights, ranging in material and placement, till the face stayed square to the path in setup and motion with minimal intervention. Perimeter weighting isn’t new, but the right combination made following your natural arc without conscious counteraction a L.A.B. hallmark. Finally, a Press Grip subtly leaned the shaft forward up to 3 degrees—aligning the hands with the face at address, de-lofting the putter slightly, and putting it on a biomechanical bridge to the ball. (The Press Grip is now just one of multiple options.)
At first, some people couldn’t look at the DF 2.1 and keep a straight face. But they couldn’t deny it kept a square face. While it might not win any beauty contests, the DF 2.1 is still in production because it delivers. Sure, it’s giving Starship Enterprise, satellite dish looks, but you won’t fear five-footers once you adjust. And Presse’s tool—now called the Revealer—is still used at every L.A.B. Golf production workstation to verify every putter and remains the best way to visualize how these putters stay in place to earn their place.
So, how did the Reno 2.1—named for where the company was based at the time—end up being refined and rebranded in Oregon? After about a year, Hahn’s putter head fell off and, after he sent it back for repairs, he received an apology call from Presse. That started a conversation, which presented an opportunity. The business was on the verge of shutting down, so Hahn put together funds and partnered with Presse in 2018 to relaunch as L.A.B. Golf. What started as a small shop with 20-some-odd employees has grown into a workforce of 180 shipping 1,000 putters daily.
Part of this is due to an active social media presence and online forum proselytizing. Pro tour traction, however, remained elusive. Then came COVID and a boom of socially distanced pastimes, golf being a natural fit both for those maintaining a distance in public and those who preferred using newly freed-up disposable income on more quarantined entertainment, like setting up simulators. On top of putting in pajamas, manufacturing got cheaper as out-of-work aerospace machine shops sold off equipment.
And this inflection point, in turn, led to YouTube reviews and direct-to-consumer success. And, finally, validation at PGA and LIV championships like the Masters in the hands of pros such as Lucas Glover, Grayson Murray, Richard Bland, and Adam Scott. Sinking putts = soaring business. Eye rolls turned to work orders.
In 2020, L.A.B. moved to Eugene, living on top of each other in a space on Taylor Street that the company almost immediately outgrew. In 2022, L.A.B. moved about 12 miles and 20 or so minutes south, taking over a portion of its current building—all 65,000 square feet of which the company now occupies with offices carved out of former locker rooms, saunas, and whirlpools and plans in motion to expand every department and compartment from prototyping to proof-of-concept to full production.
Supporting that growth is a core team of lifelong golf lovers but not golf industry lifers. Folks into sports, but more importantly, good sports. More of a Rick Rubin directing the vibe than a Nigel Godrich producing the recording, Hahn has gathered a team and told them to play it their way. Don’t buy into the narratives that competitors spit. Don’t be driven by market share reports and price points. And sometimes have the drummer play bass, just to see what happens.
For example, Brian Parks, director of research and development, worked in engineering and design on everything from wearables to axles, finding ways to improve performance and resilience. Kevin Martin, the lead senior mechanical engineer, came from more of an automotive background with plenty of hands-on build experience and the same determination to take every variation through dozens of iterations—almost 90 in some cases (that’s where those CNC machines come into play).
Take something as “simple” as the “Gimmie Getter” cutout in the DF3—a smaller, less visually polarizing version of L.A.B.’s most-forgiving, “fully automatic” icon the DF 2.1. It’s a hole. It’s also a whole lot of work. The USGA requires golf balls to conform to a minimum 1.68-inch diameter, measured by passing through a metal ring gauge. But different manufacturers sit at different edges of the limit, setting up the challenge of some balls just popping through and tumbling out repeatedly. Conversely, too much resistance would mean frustrated golfers jamming dents into the green trying to capture the ball.
“What I’ve learned in my years of experience designing products that consumers buy is that they’re never going to use the product the way that you designed it to be used,” says Parks. “The way that you have blinders on a function that you’re testing in a lab environment will not happen out there. They’re going to find ways, so you have to find ways to compensate.”
Finding the right, tight tolerance required talking all the elements—ball stipulations to the friction of anodizing, placing them in the equation of design, and determining an effective ball pick-up that could be chiseled into the head without influencing the putter’s path. The ultimate solution? A subtle internal hourglass shape. With manufacturing partners up and down the I-5 corridor, plastic becomes prototypes. Preview strokes meet 3D measuring arms, and first impressions become verified measurements. Designs for manufacturability become designs for assembly. Vision turns to volume. It’s not about reinventing the wheel; it’s about not letting anything slow your roll.
Parks, Martin, and the rest of the L.A.B. team are free to explore unorthodox form factors and added features because the underlying technology remains unchanged and undeniable. L.A.B. putters transfer energy in one direction—the one you want, straight down the intended line. They allow you to react to the target, not an unruly tool. And that means they remain desirable, even as balanced competitors have proliferated.
“A bike and a car both have wheels, they both touch the ground, but only one has an engine,” says Liam Bedford, director of user experience, smiling.
But what’s also undeniable is that L.A.B. putters are time-consuming to produce. Navigating the floor at L.A.B. HQ requires constant vigilance to dodge wooden carts snaking between assembly workstations to QC, filled with new build orders and putters returned for rebalancing. Armed with drills and drivers, scales and stringent checklists, a technician might spend up to 30-40 minutes on the high-density steel and tungsten inserts alone, where every gram has to be precisely where it’s needed to address Lie Angle Balance. (The care instructions clearly say “DON’T MESS WITH THE SCREWS” or modify the grip, and Hahn clearly says not everyone listens.)
Sure, certain investments have been invaluable. Going from drilling holes with a single-axis Bridgeport mill to having multiple 5-axis CNC machining centers, moving prototyping in-house and removing developmental delays. Using laser engraving to manifest sight lines and other personalized graphics in under 10 seconds a side, rather than milling and paint-filling finished heads. But this isn’t mass production because every quarter of a degree, every data point counts. Some manufacturers may never see their putters before they get to customers; L.A.B. has eyes and hands on every one, even now that there are far more than one.
To shape the future, you have to reshape the past. It was true when the DF 2.1 broke with tradition. It remained true as L.A.B. has introduced new models that offer the same repeatable results in more palatable forms. These include the fanged MEZZ.1, tour-inspired mallet OZ.1, blade-style LINK.1, and 2024’s best-selling DF3. The silhouettes may have softened over time, but the focus on perfect torque neutrality never has.
Each L.A.B. Golf putter’s ultimate goal is hardware that amplifies action rather than resists it, but there are many variables to consider while laboring to remove one. One of the most interesting is the part frequency plays in play. While every putter has a stock option, it’s the remote-fitting option and copious customization of alignment aesthetics, radiant finishes, and, most of all, responsive materials that have added to L.A.B.’s cultish charm. Therefore, every component has to be carefully vetted for both precise mechanical tolerances and how it may resonate with customers, literally.
Assembling a putter isn’t just putting together an object; it’s producing a user experience. Everything—from groove spacing on the face to shaft materials—can affect acoustic behavior and, in turn, how players perceive contact. If a drive is your bassline, the thing that keeps you moving, reflects Hahn, putting is the melody. And even the best rhythm will get old if you don’t lay a nice melody over it. So, behind all that subjectivity, you’ll always find more objectivity.
“When we talk about EQing the experience, we’re referring to how different materials and geometries transmit energy, specifically acoustic and tactile feedback, through the putter and into the player’s hands,” says Kevin Martin, lead senior mechanical engineer. “This includes everything from shaft wall thickness to head geometry to grip density. Each component interacts as part of a mechanical system.”
Go to the forums and you’ll find plentiful pontificating on the vibration frequencies of different parts. A steel shaft, which has a typical ring range of 120-250 Hz, will give off a crisp tick. Carbon fiber, with its excellent torsional stiffness and a typical range of 50-150 Hz, damps harmonics quickly, giving off a more muted thud. Clubhead mass—for example, combining a 6061 aircraft aluminum chassis with a steel impact zone in the Adam Scott collaboration OZ.1i to achieve a desired pop—contributes to what’s transmitted. Grip material can also suppress certain tones, and feedback blurring can undermine outcome.
It’s for this reason, Martin says, that any new material and every possible combination with it goes through frequency simulations before a prototype is ever machined. If those patterns align with the desired feedback profile and the material shows consistency from batch to batch, it can move from the lab to practical testing, validating it in the field. And this is when having an office next door to a golf course sure comes in handy.
This brings us back to my fitting. This brings us back to my feelings. I’m on the grass with the aptly named Calvin Green, head of L.A.B.’s fitting department. We determine my dexterity—my length, lie, lean—then start cycling through various makes and materials. But I keep going back to the industrial footprint of the DF 2.1 with an ACCRA shaft. There’s something about confrontational, asymmetrical shapes that has always captured my imagination—from the psychologically charged paintings of Francis Bacon to conventions-challenging IDM compositions. Yet, for all my love of visceral physicality and brutalist sonic architecture, I find myself drifting away from the sweeter leading edges and quick decay of steel and toward the unhurried ting of high-modulus carbon fiber.
What I discover I like most about the DF 2.1, which is ultimately a testament to L.A.B. Golf’s elemental premise, is that it feels effortless. Am I losing my edge or dialing in more confidence? Maybe I can both it. After the fitting, we do a speed-run scramble through the front nine at Emerald Green, and there is no doubt the putter cuts down on round killers. I may not be on rails, but I’m on track in terms of immediate improvement. My distance control sure needs work, but even my mishits (and there are many) are more toward the cup. I’m thinking a lot about how I’m thinking less. I’m thinking about Sub Pop Records circa 1990 and the advantages of isolation; sometimes the weirdos become successful on their own terms. It’s a surprisingly illuminating afternoon in Creswell, Ore.
As for what’s to come in 2025, the plan is to continue to grow organically. After years in a non-competitive environment, there’s no way to deny that outside influences are massing. But, according to Parks, L.A.B. Golf maintains the indie mentality that a creative, collaborative R&D team drives marketing, not the other way around.
“If you want to know what’s coming down the pipeline for us, maybe just read all the comment threads on Facebook and listen to what people are asking for the most,” jokes Hahn. “The beauty of the technology is we can take inspirations and innovate while always allowing athletes to be athletes.”
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