{"id":372192,"date":"2025-12-26T03:28:39","date_gmt":"2025-12-26T03:28:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/372192\/"},"modified":"2025-12-26T03:28:39","modified_gmt":"2025-12-26T03:28:39","slug":"the-hickory-experiment-what-century-old-clubs-taught-me-about-modern-golf","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/372192\/","title":{"rendered":"The hickory experiment: What century-old clubs taught me about modern golf"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cSwing smooth.\u201d That was Bruce Markwardt\u2019s only advice. I was preparing to compete, so to speak, in the 2025 U.S. Hickory Open, a golf tournament requiring pre-1935 equipment, an arcane version of an already ancient game. I needed a set of clubs and, well, here they were \u2014 my hickories. Five irons, a wood, and a putter, all jutting out of a discolored bag with one rusted zipper pocket and a sad, skinny shoulder strap. I looked at Bruce, skeptically. He looked at me, assuredly.<\/p>\n

Swing smooth? I pulled out one of the clubs, an AG Spalding & Bros. Kro-Flite Sweet Spot iron stamped with a patent date of Sept. 13, 1927. What a time to be alive. Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic. The Babe hitting 60. My great-grandfather, James A. Flaherty, leading the Knights of Columbus. I wrapped my hands around the grip, extended my arms, and looked down on what appeared to be half a tuna can lid. I tapped the floor a couple times, getting a feel for it. Firm, sturdy. I pulled the club back into a half swing. Hickories are heavier than modern clubs. Their shafts are remnants of trees that stood a century ago, and despite feeling like an heirloom off a wall, that history feels unsentimental once in your hands. The difference between an artifact and an instrument is how you use it.<\/p>\n

Yet there\u2019s an entire subculture out there, one that loyally subscribes to hickory golf. They swing their cleeks and their mashies and their niblicks \u2014 club names long extinct, replaced by today\u2019s numbered irons and woods. They dress in period-appropriate getups \u2014 knickers and flat caps, ties and suspenders, all imaginable argyles. They laugh at your modern vanities. Why worry about spin rates and clubhead speed when you can wear a necktie and hit a drive 180 yards?<\/p>\n

Color me curious. Maybe I could learn something about today\u2019s game by pulling back a curtain to the past. Or maybe better understand some universal truths by rejecting modern technology. Or maybe just mock a bunch of men dressed like jockeys, because even by golf\u2019s standards, this was a bit much.<\/p>\n

I reached out late in the summer to Gary Krupkin, the tournament director for this year\u2019s U.S. Hickory Open. The 36-hole event was slated for Hot Springs, Ark., an odd town with an odd history. I assumed a qualifying process existed. I was wrong. Krupkin said all I needed was a pulse and a means to travel to central Arkansas. That, and some clubs.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s where Bruce came in. Seventy-four years old and long retired after 39 years in purchasing at Ford, Bruce repairs and restores antique golf clubs in his ample free time. This man loves old golf clubs. When I first emailed him, he replied 14 minutes later with mountains of information. I wasn\u2019t sure what I was reading, so I agreed to whatever he was offering. Bruce said it would take a week or two to put together the set. Then he emailed me a couple days later, saying they were ready.<\/p>\n

We met in Grosse Ile, Mich., a small island just south of Detroit, where Bruce lives with his wife. A lifelong golfer and collector, he began playing hickory clubs about five years ago, during the pandemic, as a lark. He didn\u2019t realize he was signing himself up for an obsession. Today, Bruce plays about half his rounds with hickories. Alongside the driveway, what should be a guesthouse is instead a shack split between a storage space for thousands of clubs and a small nook filled with tools and clamps and dust. \u201cMy dumpy little workshop,\u201d he called it.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is where I spend my time now,\u201d Bruce said, moving through a tight hallway. \u201cThe plan for the winter is to finally get this stuff cleaned out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n Century-old hickory golf clubs are restored in Bruce Markwardt\u2019s Grosse Ile, Mich., workshop. (Courtesy of Bruce Markwardt)<\/p>\n

Bruce began the restoration process by removing the heads off all the irons and soaking them in rust remover. Then he peeled off the old grips, sanded each shaft, and applied fresh stains. Seeing that a few shafts bowed ever so slightly, he fastened them on a straightener, forcing them to their former glory. Then the iron heads, fresh from a long bath in the rust remover, met the soft steel brush of a lathe. Working on the lone persimmon in the set, Bruce removed layers of claggy varnish and applied three new coats. Then he reset, re-epoxied and re-pinned each club. He added whipping (threading wrapped to reinforce the bond) to the bottom of every shaft. Then he wrapped new elk leather grips atop each.<\/p>\n

The result? A wonderful island of misfit toys. The irons included a few Spaldings, a MacGregor and something stamped only with the word \u201cEdgebrook.\u201d Some clubfaces were lined with familiar groove patterns, others with mysterious systems of inverted dimples. The putter looked like an Allen wrench. But the driver \u2014 a \u201cbrassie,\u201d the equivalent of a modern 2 or 3 wood \u2014 was beautiful. Glossy auburn swirls across a brindle grain. No manufacturer\u2019s mark, at least none I could make out.<\/p>\n

I wondered where else these clubs have been. Each was, at some point, new. Probably advertised in a catalog as the next big thing. Bought by some guy who thought it would change his game. Handed down to a child. Then sold. Or left in a garage. Forgotten. Then found. Tossed into a bin of other old clubs, or into a storage unit. Found again. Eventually laid upon a shelf in Grosse Ile. Then handed to me. It felt like one long love song.<\/p>\n

There was, though, the matter of hitting these things.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake your handicap,\u201d Bruce told me, \u201cand add 50 percent to it. That\u2019s your hickory handicap.\u201d<\/p>\n

What\u2019s 50 percent of 11?<\/p>\n

I paid Bruce $300 for the clubs and laid the bag down gently in my trunk, next to my regular clubs, a modern set of Srixon irons, Callaway woods and Titleist wedges. Driving off, I waved to Bruce, standing outside his dumpy workshop, smiling like a missionary after a baptism.<\/p>\n

Swing smooth, I thought.<\/p>\n

How hard could it be?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n Wearing traditional attire and playing with hickory clubs, golfers compete in the 2025 U.S. Hickory Open in Hot Springs, Ark. (Katie Adkins for The Athletic)<\/p>\n

The story of hickory golf is one of evolutionary annihilation. In the game\u2019s early days, when Scots smacked featheries and gutties around sheep pastures, club shafts were made of native Scottish woods like ash and hazel. That was, until the 1800s, when North American hickory \u2014 flexible, durable, reliable; the stuff of wagon wheels and tool handles \u2014 was deemed ideal by clubmakers. By the early 1900s, as golf rode a wave of popularity shaped by Harry Vardon, Ted Ray and, in time, Bobby Jones, clubs were mass-produced for the first time.<\/p>\n

Then came 1924 and the United States Golf Association\u2019s decision to legalize steel shafts. The change was part necessity, part free enterprise. What was once an endless supply of slow-growing hickory trees was coming upon the realities of deforestation. Club manufacturers realized steel was better performing, more durable and less expensive. The transition began gradually. Scores of golfers stubbornly clung to their hickories from the \u201920s into the \u201930s. Sands shifted when Billy Burke, who began his career juggling practice with a full-time job as a mold caster at a Connecticut iron foundry, won the 1931 U.S. Open with a full set of steel-shafted clubs. Five years later, Johnny Fischer won the 1936 U.S. Amateur in what would be the last major ever won with wooden shafts.<\/p>\n

With that, history ate hickories whole. And with that, all those original clubs \u2014 millions upon millions of hickories \u2014 were immediately irrelevant.<\/p>\n

The story of Hot Springs isn\u2019t all too different. About an hour south of Little Rock, the city popped in the 1920s, a swirl of gambling halls and cathouses, racetracks and barrooms. Doors were pushed open by Al Capone, \u201cBugsy\u201d Siegel and \u201cLucky\u201d Luciano; by Babe Ruth, Mae West and Jack Dempsey. Walking downtown today, you can see it, but you have to squint. Locals say that, had the state of Arkansas not clamped down on gambling in the \u201960s, Hot Springs would be America\u2019s modern freewheeling destination, not Las Vegas.<\/p>\n

Three miles from downtown, two 18-hole courses make up Hot Springs Country Club. One was born amid the city\u2019s boom and designed by legendary architect Willie Park Jr.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s where I arrived for my pre-tournament practice round, finding a 2025 U.S. Hickory Open banner draped across the front of a two-story clubhouse. Dropping my bag on the range, I feigned confidence, rehearsing a few swings. In reality, I hadn\u2019t yet hit any of the clubs Bruce gave me a day earlier and had no idea what I was doing. All the makings of a nightmare.<\/p>\n

Except, then I looked around.<\/p>\n

Expecting a lineup of fluid swings striking pure shots, I instead found a row of relatably unexceptional swings swatting relatably average shots. One guy, short and stocky, squatted over the ball as if perched in a porta-john. Another seemed to be doing some kind of Kevin Youkilis impression. What was this? I had anticipated a weekend of stuffed shirts and serious golf, but the U.S. Hickory Open was beginning to look like something else. Eclectic, offbeat. A little weird. I chose to ignore the handful of low-handicappers who clearly knew what they were doing.<\/p>\n

In the distance, I saw Krupkin, the ringleader, smiling with his arms folded.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf someone describes this event to you and asks you to paint a picture, we know the picture that\u2019ll be painted,\u201d he told me later. \u201cBut oftentimes the picture in real life isn\u2019t what\u2019s in your mind. Everyone here, there\u2019s got to be something a little off about you to want to play the game this way.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n Legendary architect Willie Park Jr. designed one of the courses at Hot Springs Country Club. (Katie Adkins for The Athletic)<\/p>\n

Krupkin is a Dallas-based attorney who, on the side, is vice president of Sara\u2019s Secret, a chain of \u201cromance boutiques\u201d with 22 locations across Texas. He uses modern clubs regularly, practices daily, and plays matches against friends for \u201cconsiderable sums of money.\u201d He got into hickories about six years ago when seeing a man at a Plano public course wearing knickers and asking, as one does, why are you wearing knickers? Next thing Krupkin knew, he was trying hickories. Then he was getting involved with the Society of Hickory Golfers. Then he was somehow a tournament director.<\/p>\n

All because of the sticks.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t build technology into these old clubs. It\u2019s impossible,\u201d Krupkin said. \u201cThat\u2019s why it feels pure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n Some clubs felt strangely comfortable to a novice. Others did not. (Katie Adkins for The Athletic)<\/p>\n

I was unsure which club to reach for. Bruce wrote large numbers on the back of each iron. The degree of loft. One read, \u201c46,\u201d essentially a pitching wedge. Fully expecting to blister a ball off the hosel, and hoping desperately no one was looking, I muttered to myself, \u201cSwing smooth,\u201d and turned my shoulders.<\/p>\n

Flushed.<\/p>\n

High and true. About 110 yards.<\/p>\n

\u201cNice!\u201d the guy next to me said, sensing a newbie.<\/p>\n

That contact. Oh, man. It\u2019s unlike anything you feel with a modern club, unless your pitching wedge feels like a big bite out of a perfect apple. I wanted to feel it again, immediately. So I raked another ball over, centered it in my stance, and squeezed the grip. I turned my shoulders and \u2026<\/p>\n

Thinned the ever-loving s\u2014 out of it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHappens,\u201d the neighbor said.<\/p>\n

I worked my way through the bag. Good swings. Bad swings. Some clubs felt strangely comfortable. Others did not. The club labeled \u201c26\u201d was, in fact, a dull, old butter knife. The brassie felt good, somehow. The key, I had read, was to tee the ball a little lower, only slightly forward in the stance, maybe choke down a tad, and swing with rhythm. One practice shot led to the next and something resembling confidence followed. I hoisted my flimsy bag upon my flimsy shoulder and set out for my practice round. Other than sweating heavily in layers of clothes I would otherwise never wear, things went shockingly well. I learned quickly that if you hit a hickory dead square on the clubface, right on the sweet spot, a symphony of shivers will shoot through your hands, up your arms and into your heart. Hasten that swing, though, and reach back for more, squeeze the grip a little tighter, and your hands will feel like door knockers.<\/p>\n

I arrived for the following day\u2019s first round in brown knickers, a white shirt, blue tie, and socks in green and blue criss-crossing argyle. It wasn\u2019t easy leaving that hotel room that morning. I\u2019ve long imagined performing open-mic comedy as the most unbearably humiliating scenario imaginable. That\u2019s only because I had never considered dressing like this in public.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n Reporter Brendan Quinn of The Athletic competes in the 2025 U.S. Hickory Open in Hot Springs, Ark. (Courtesy of Greg and Beverly Wise)<\/p>\n

My group started on hole 15. A 150-yard par-3 requiring 140 yards of carry. Not exactly daunting, until I looked down at a clubface featuring, ominously, what seemed like only a heel, a toe, and no discernible middle. The previous day\u2019s good vibes were gone. I don\u2019t know why; maybe it was the slightest tinge of competition, maybe it was the fact that I\u2019m not a good golfer, but instincts kicked in and the swing sped up. I sent a squirrelly shot skittering toward the water.<\/p>\n

I looked at the club, but knew I needed a mirror.<\/p>\n

I tried to remember what Jeffrey Havelock had told me. We\u2019d played together the previous day, and he noticed my preshot routine didn\u2019t include an actual practice swing. Havelock is 65 and plays hickory clubs because they force him to swing slower. After a few holes, he implored me to pause and rehearse the swing. Feel the weight, feel the torque, feel the way it\u2019s meant to be swung. \u201cEvery club is different,\u201d he said. \u201cYou need to adjust.\u201d<\/p>\n

When I listened, things went well. When I didn\u2019t, they did not. Modern golf clubs allow for leeway; a margin of error to save you not only from the occasional wonky swing, but from the inevitable loss of focus that every average golfer knows too well. Hickory clubs? There are no margins. Mishit a hickory, even in the slightest bit, and you question not only why you bothered trying, but why this stupid game was ever invented in the first place.<\/p>\n

I spent two days wondering why anyone plays this way by choice.<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople find their way into this community a hundred different ways,\u201d Tracy Joneson replied.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n There\u2019s an estimated 10,000 hickory golfers worldwide, and maybe 3,500 in the U.S. (Katie Adkins for The Athletic)<\/p>\n

A 62-year-old from nearby Gravette, Ark., Joneson is relatively new to the journey. While helping a local nine-hole course through a bankruptcy two years ago, he was cleaning out the clubhouse and came upon a single, lonely hickory. \u201cPoor thing had a loose head and the grip was falling off,\u201d he recalled. \u201cLooked like Charlie Brown\u2019s Christmas tree.\u201d Joneson gave the course $40 for the club (only to find out it was worth maybe $15 on eBay) and set out to repair it. That prompted Joneson\u2019s wife to buy a full set of weathered clubs, along with a little leather bag, on Etsy. She paid $100, thinking her husband might display them in the office. He instead refurbished those, too, and set out on the course.<\/p>\n

I played another round with Dave Koenig, 57, from Des Moines, Iowa. He came upon hickory golf years ago, finding a social outlet he badly needed. Sixteen years sober, he found a like-minded group. They talk about equipment, and course design, and golf, and life.<\/p>\n

I played with Chris Hawes, a Canadian. Now 59, he discovered hickories when, while playing as a single, he was paired with three truthers. All the doors of his mind swung open, as did an opportunity. A standup comic in a previous life, Hawes started a company producing inexpensive replica hickory sets and a golf travel agency. A self-described \u201cegalitarian,\u201d he regularly convinces, or cons, people into converting to hickories.<\/p>\n

I had a long talk with Nelson Ford from McLean, Va. The 78-year-old served as Under Secretary of the Army, the department\u2019s second-highest-ranking civilian official, from 2007-09. In 2013, Ford went for a walk and found a bench near the 17th hole at Pacific Grove Golf Links, a municipal course five miles north of Pebble Beach known as \u201cPoor Man\u2019s Pebble.\u201d A player passing by soon stopped and chatted. The man asked Ford if he\u2019d ever played with old hickory clubs. Ford, cocking an eyebrow, responded, \u201cWho would do that?\u201d Long story short, that man gave Ford a hickory 5-iron and a putter. He never looked back.<\/p>\n

\u201cOnce you hit a pure shot with a hickory,\u201d Ford said, \u201cthere\u2019s no better feeling.\u201d<\/p>\n

There\u2019s no formal number for how many hickory players are out there. The most common estimate is 10,000 or so worldwide, and maybe 3,500 in the U.S. With golf being an export of the aristocracy, I mistakenly assumed these would be the especially polished, the especially uppish. In truth, it\u2019s the opposite. These are the hobbyists, the pack rats, the tinkerers. They play the game the way they imagine it was intended to have been played. They go to trade shows and swap meets. They accumulate collections that grow too big and aren\u2019t worth too much. They try to convince others to give the game a try. Hey, a decent persimmon goes for $60 or $70; good irons are maybe $20 apiece.<\/p>\n

There is, of course, some sectarianism. Different associations abide by different qualifications. Some welcome replica clubs. Others allow for only pre-1935 originals. Yet another sect requires 19th-century clubs and modern-made gutta-percha balls. All innovation invites a tug-of-war. I was told the story of what was supposed to be an amiable tournament of hickory players from Ohio against hickory players from Michigan. A disagreement over using range finders turned radioactive. Sides fumed. The Toledo War broke out again. Hands were balled into fists before players were finally separated.<\/p>\n

But that\u2019s on the edges.<\/p>\n

Most hickory golfers? They just want to find other hickory golfers. And Krupkin was right. They\u2019re all maybe a little off, usually in a good way.<\/p>\n

After I posted rounds of 95 and 93 in Hot Springs, finishing 28th place out of 38 in the men\u2019s open division, everyone I\u2019d met asked the same two questions. Did I want a beer? And might I continue playing hickories? My answers were yes and maybe. Heading home, I was still trying to figure out whether I enjoyed myself or not.<\/p>\n

\"Chris<\/p>\n

\n Chris Hawes celebrates during the final round of the U.S. Hickory Open in Hot Springs, Ark., on Oct. 5. (Katie Adkins for The Athletic)<\/p>\n

The latest Callaway driver, the Elyte X, features a thermoforged carbon crown that optimizes weight distribution for stability. It relies on \u201cadvanced AI\u201d to enhance speed, spin and dispersion across the entire face. The clubhead comes standard with a Mitsubishi Tensei 1K black 65 graphite shaft. It debuted in 2025 for $619.99.<\/p>\n

And TaylorMade? The new Qi35 driver is constructed of chromium carbon, steel, aluminum, tungsten and titanium, and features two movable weights to achieve optimal spin and shot shape control. Yours for $599.99.<\/p>\n

Modern irons are fitted to your exact specifications \u2014 height, swing speed, optimal compression \u2014 and can cost upward of two grand for a set.<\/p>\n

This is where golf\u2019s eternal obsession with distance has led us. Space-aged clubs constructed from sci-fi materials. Amateurs are hitting the ball longer than ever and pros are rendering historical courses obsolete, so much so that, unable to stop club manufacturers from trying to reach Mars, the USGA and R&A are instead engineering a \u201crollback\u201d to curb the game\u2019s erosion. Professional players will begin playing a scaled-back golf ball in 2028. Recreational players will begin buying those sleeves in 2030.<\/p>\n

Hickory players will be just fine. The best ball to use with antiquated clubs is the soft, low-compression variety, the ones you see stacked in sporting goods stores for $20 a dozen. Those ain\u2019t getting rolled back.<\/p>\n

Everyone else will simply find the next best way to get ahead.<\/p>\n

It was, you should know, no different a hundred years ago. I found an original advertisement for that Spalding Kro-Flite Sweet Spot iron. It boasted that a matching set of Kro-Flites rendered all other sets obsolete because they allowed for the same swing with each club. (\u201cEvery club in the set feels exactly like its fellow!\u201d) Only three years later, in 1927, Spalding\u2019s new \u201ccushion-neck\u201d steel-shafted irons were advertised as \u201cthe world\u2019s most perfectly matched golf clubs.\u201d<\/p>\n

(I wonder how those who originally read those ads and played those clubs would react if presented with a bizarro time capsule, one opening to reveal players a century later using that same equipment by choice.)<\/p>\n

Playing with hickory clubs doesn\u2019t necessarily need to be about rejecting what\u2019s available today. Rather, it can be about deciding that the hard way is OK because it\u2019s all on you. We all know when we get away with a swing \u2014 that drive that\u2019s hit dead off the toe, yet, in defiance of all logic, and all forces of nature, and all truths bestowed upon us by the gods, somehow self-corrects, flies back on-line and falls, magically, to a final resting place along the fairway. We look down at the face of the driver, rub a thumb across that ball mark, and insert some lame clich\u00e9. \u201cRather be lucky than good!\u201d<\/p>\n

Deep down, though, you know.<\/p>\n

You know.<\/p>\n

Swinging a hickory, that\u2019s how you play without pretenses. If the swing is off, the shot is off.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s no spell check. There\u2019s no auto focus. There\u2019s no lane assist feature.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s worth remembering what that\u2019s like every once in a while.<\/p>\n

A month after the Hickory Open, Bruce and I got together at the club down the street from his house. I\u2019d shot a solid 83 \u2014 with my moderns \u2014 the prior day at a public track up north and arrived in Grosse Ile feeling good. I felt a little sentimental as I pulled the hickories back out of the trunk. I recalled picking them up and felt like we\u2019ve all somehow found our way onto the same ancestry report.<\/p>\n

Then I proceeded to play four hours of truly atrocious golf. Never came within an inch of the sweet spot. Not once. The brassie? Every swing felt like hitting a hockey puck with another hockey puck. After 16 holes spent writing down big numbers with that tiny pencil, I didn\u2019t even bother keeping track on 17 and 18. Anything to avoid the final tally \u2014 a 107? 108? Lord knows.<\/p>\n

Back at the car, I dropped my hickories to the trunk and reminded myself who was to blame. I didn\u2019t swing smooth. History caught up with me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cSwing smooth.\u201d That was Bruce Markwardt\u2019s only advice. I was preparing to compete, so to speak, in the…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":372193,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[566],"tags":[64,63,2331,755,85],"class_list":{"0":"post-372192","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-golf","8":"tag-au","9":"tag-australia","10":"tag-culture","11":"tag-golf","12":"tag-sports"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/372192","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=372192"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/372192\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/372193"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=372192"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=372192"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=372192"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}