This week Nike Golf released its latest collection, Nike Golf Club. The intent is clear: Nike represents the youth. Most golfers are old and spend most of Saturday around the 19th hole crushing Michelob Ultras. The new generation, apparently, plays from dawn until dusk and doesn't fuck around with small talk.

Core to the collection is a emoji-like "Clapping Hands," which hits a sweet spot between Albrecht Dürer's "Praying Hands" of 1508 (an apparent favorite of Drake's) and Been Trill S/S 14. On bucket and five panel caps, the graphic is repeated to create the best pattern in golf since Jon Daly's SpongeBob pants worn at the Qatar Masters last January. It aligns youth culture, by way of web culture, to a sport typically lacking in any swag whatsoever. And, while the tees don't really succeed, the caps have a certain je ne sais quoi to them.

In a world where lax bros have made Jordans (and subsequently sneaker conventions) their own, it's only a matter of time before the mainstreaming of cool reaches fever pitch. Nike Golf Club, following Nike FC, gives sport a feel that balances actual use with bold proclamation of interest in the pastime. Clap for forward motion. Pray for the old git lit off adjunct lager.

Needless anecdote: My brother used to order wild snack bar feasts using other family's membership numbers at a Jewish country club in Connecticut. Had these jawns been available in '97, I'd like to think he'd have worn them while doing his dirt.