Pro golfers live and die with their putters. Some form lasting relationships with their flat sticks, calling them by name. Others curse at their putters, threatening abandonment and death.

Bobby Jones had "Calamity Jane." Ben Crenshaw had "Little Ben." Ky Laffoon had more than he could take from his putter, so he tied it to his car's bumper and dragged it, sparks flying, to the next Tour stop. Tommy Valentine held his putter out his car window, chastising it for several minutes before throwing it in a Florida swamp.

"I wanted it to suffer a little before I killed it," Valentine explained. They say you drive for show and putt for dough. What they don't tell you is that putting can drive you to drink.

Over the next two weeks, many of the best players will be booming 350-yard drives and effortlessly shaping iron shots at the HP Byron Nelson Championship and the Crowne Plaza Invitational at Colonial. And after 144 holes, two trophies will be awarded and everybody else will be wondering, "If I could have just made a few more putts."

Most tournaments come down to putting. At last year's Nelson, Australian Adam Scott claimed a dramatic victory with his 48-foot putt on the third playoff hole. Phil Mickelson's heroic shot through the trees at Colonial made all the highlight shows. But it was his 10-foot putt that zipped up the plaid jacket.

Every player who has pumped his fist and jumped into his caddie's arms over a winning putt has rolled his eyes at the sky as his tap-in putt rolls three feet by.

Putting is an elusive skill, sending sensible humans into fits of rage, hands trembling with the yips. Many players are a three-putt away from being sent away. The art is never mastered because, even though golfers like to say they made all their putts, nobody ever does.

Even Jones lost his temper with "Calamity Jane." Legend has it he was about to break the world's most famous putter over his knee when a playing partner intervened.

"No putt is too short to be despised," Jones once said.

The putter is the most personalized club in the bag. Players go to great lengths to find one that works. When Crenshaw's "Little Ben" turned up missing during an airline flight, he put up a $2,000 reward – no questions asked – to get the little fellow back.

"I would have paid a lot more," Crenshaw said at the time. "It's not a totally sentimental thing, either. Every putter is different. They all have a feel of their own."

Most of the great putters stick with the same one for long periods. Byron Nelson carried the same putter for most of his career. Tiger Woods has used the same style wand since his amateur days. He put his current Scotty Cameron Newport 2 in his bag at the 1999 Byron Nelson.

His trusty club, though, barely escaped death at the 2006 Masters. Woods took 33 putts in the final round to finish tied for third, three strokes behind Mickelson.

"I was about ready to break my putter right there on the spot," Woods said.

Instead, he sent the club back to Cameron for adjustments.

"You're going to have spells when you don't putt well," Woods said. "It's not the putter's fault; it's the dude putting it."

Still, players will try almost anything to get the ball in the hole. They use unorthodox grips on their putters, such as left-hand low, the claw and the saw. Bernhard Langer, probably the most dysfunctional putter in golf history, won the 1993 Masters with his "Bavarian Stranglehold" grip.

"The result is what counts," Langer said.

Sam Snead, the PGA Tour's career leader in victories, employed a variety of weird putting styles, including his sidesaddle method. Blaine McCallister and Notah Begay have used right- and left-handed putters. Mike Hulbert putted for more than a year with only his right hand.

Several players have employed their kids' putters. Padraig Harrington and Kenny Perry take wide stances. Briny Baird plants his feet in a ski slalom position, sideways to the ball.

Putter life spans have decreased with advances in club technology. Vijay Singh used a heel-toe style weighted putter from Never Compromise to win five of seven events in 2004. That run enabled him to replace Woods as the world's No. 1 player. A year later, the putter was gone. Singh changes blades and grips whimsically.

"It's all about the feel," he said. "If you look at a putter and it doesn't feel good, you don't take it out there."

Since scorecards don't have pictures, no stance, grip, stroke or club is too bizarre to at least experiment with.

Arnold Palmer was the king of putter collectors. He had some 3,000 before he whittled that in half by donating to charities and giving to friends. In his prime, Palmer would take a dozen putters with him to tournaments.

Most pros have an arsenal of flat sticks in their garages. Depending on a player's mental state and the moon's orbit, he may decide the time is right to bring into play that long-handled branding iron he got from a friend of his second cousin's ex-father-in-law.

Even loyalists Woods and Crenshaw take extra putters with them on the road. Crenshaw actually has a "pretty big" collection of "Little Bens" – eight Wilson 8802s – along with about 40 others. He won his first Masters with "Little Ben," and won his second green jacket 11 years later with a Cleveland Classic that featured a similar look. Jones claimed three majors with "Calamity Jane" and 10 with a replica, "Calamity Jane II."

Jack Nicklaus debunks the theory that great putters don't change dance partners. He won two U.S. Opens with "White Fang," a friend's Bulls Eye that was painted white. The Golden Bear won the 1986 Masters using a MacGregor Response ZT.

Bob Estes brought 15 putters with him to the Shell Houston Open. He put them through American Idol-like tryouts in his hotel room, finally whittling it down to one.

"I started with about 40 and just grabbed 15 of them, you know?" Estes said. "I got it down to 15 putters by Monday, and I got it down to three by Tuesday, and then to one by the pro-am. I think I've got the right putter now."

His final choice – a Bulls Eye he used as an amateur.

"It's so easy to look at," Estes said. "It pretty much does what I want it to do, so it's probably what I should just keep putting with."

The greatest putter of all-time may have been South African Bobby Locke, who coined the phrase, "You drive for show but putt for dough."

After flying more than 2,000 hours on bomber missions in World War II, Locke came to the United States in 1946. He won 12 of 14 exhibition matches against Sam Snead and then posted 11 victories, 10 seconds and eight thirds in 59 PGA Tour events over 2 ½ years. He won the Chicago Victory National by a record 16 strokes.

"Very early in my career, I realized that putting was half the game of golf," Locke once said. "No matter how well I might play the long shots, if I couldn't putt, I would never win."

Locke had an unusual style, hooking his putts with his hickory-shafted putter.

"I've seen them all, and there was never a putter like him," Gary Player said. "In the 100 or so competitive rounds I played with him, I saw him three-putt just once."

Players know that the next putter they pick up may be the one that catapults them to the top. At the Nelson and the Colonial, putter reps will be milling around the practice green like drug dealers.

There's a good chance that veteran Mark Calcavecchia will need a fix. He has left a trail of broken putters over his 28 years on Tour. At the 2007 Barclays, he used a standard size for long putts and a belly putter for short ones.

Last year, after missing the cut with a poor putting performance at the Honda Classic, Calcavecchia bought a $256 putter off the rack at an Edwin Watts shop and took it to the Pods Championship. He made 11 one-putts during a third-round 62, and went on to win.

"I just kind of look at putters and see which looks less ugly to me," Calcavecchia said. "Or which one I wouldn't mind breaking."

At the 2006 Nelson, Carlos Franco was 3 over through seven holes when he bent the shaft of his putter with a kick. He played the last 11 holes in 2 under, using his driver on the greens. He blew a kiss at the ball when his 18-foot birdie putt dropped on 18.

Asked if he planned to use his driver to putt the next day, the Paraguayan spoke for all golfers.

"I don't know. Maybe another putter. Maybe yes, maybe no."