I thought I knew how to stand up until a couple of weeks ago when I went to visit the Melbourne Golf Injury Clinic. It's not something most of us consider until maybe early morning after a few too many drinks, but standing up anywhere near straight, I have just learnt, is an act of contortion.

Most of us have spent a lifetime perfecting standing crooked. Ever since that visit I have been obsessed with compensating for my caddie lurch and list. Brushing my teeth, combing my hair, sitting on a chair, lying in bed; I'm learning all over again, I should be back in even kilter by the time I'm 50, if I work hard at it between now and then.

There have been dramatic improvements, over the last decade, in the way the modern golfer swings the club. There seems to be little room left for the unique or individualistic swings of Eamonn Darcy or Jim Furyk, the standardised swing is prevalent at most events. It all starts in the sports clinic, it's all got to do with a straight spine.

I don't know when Tiger Woods was assessed first by a physiotherapist to advise him about the adroitness of his spine but Ramsey McMaster tells me that Aaron Baddeley first paid a visit to his clinic when he was 14-years-old. Have a look at Baddeley's posture and see if it isn't as straight as a lighthouse.

McMaster was assessing three of the Swedish men's amateur team when I was there. They were on a reciprocal transfer for five weeks at the Australian Institute of Sport.

A rare opportunity for the lucky three to escape the Scandinavian winter and play the best courses in the world.

Linus Pettersson was the first to be analysed. He was stripped to his undies and McMaster attacked the miffed Swede with a red crayon. He encircled his shoulder blades, x-ed his vertebrae, dotted and lined his collar bone and marked his neck.

Linus stood, prisoner mug shot position, in front of McMaster who was videoing him. Beside Ramsey was the TV screen with Linus looking at the sorry state he was in. The classic right-handed golfer posture, left shoulder higher than the right, the hips were not aligned, his feet were askew. Linus wasn't feeling too good about himself at this early stage of the analysis. McMaster had already predicted by his posture how he swung the club. All arms and a lot of talent required to lay club on ball, he guessed in an educated sort of way.

Sure enough when Linus took hold of a club and took it away in the first part of the takeaway he picked it straight up with his arms. His rounded torso twisted awkwardly in response and the lower back did as little turning as possible. Just as the analyst had supposed. Basically it would be a miracle if this guy could break 80 judging by his physiological make-up.

He must have a hell of a psychologist and short game. Linus was here to learn the truth, if the Swedish Golf Federation were on the ball this should have been addressed a long time ago. It was a long way for Pettersson to come to find out a fundamental flaw for a potential top sportsman.

Niklas Bruzelius was next up for a physical dressing down by the perceptive but brutally frank McMaster. Niklas, although far less crooked than his colleague, was also a victim of a well-practised short game. McMaster guessed that he had spent a long time chipping and putting. The lower abdominals don't work when you chip and putt. The short game then affects the long game (from a practice point of view) apart from the obvious reasons.

The young Swede was given a series of exercises to do, to undo the damage the hours of practice had done.

I sidled out of the Melbourne Sports Clinic amid a backdrop of disillusioned young golfers listening to McMaster talking about bio-mechanical efficiency so that all parts of the body can fire in unison. It sounds a lot more complicated than the old days of turn and fire. I suppose back then three over made cuts - today it's closer to three under. The physio has made his mark on the modern game. I wonder where McMaster would begin with a listing caddie.