The menu that is not a catalog
Factory stamps are a starting rumor. We map three sole regions onto the turf you actually walk: Alabama River clay, Goat Hill bermuda, and the tight rye that hides near Dexter shade.
When March mud grabs a leading edge, the heel has to give the face a way out. We measure how much relief you actually use, not how much a box promised. Narrow heels that looked honest on a mat often bury on Black Belt soil after a Gulf front.
Width is a number, not a vibe. Tessa runs a caliper across the sole at the mid-point and then we watch skip versus skate on a bermuda strip we keep damp in one lane and fried in the other.
Open-face exits need a trailing edge that can bite without turning the head into a shovel. This is the grind people buy as jewelry and then never pull when the pin is back-left at Maxwell.
Two, three, or a fourth that is lying. Humidity around the river fattens spin. A fourth scoring club often steals a hybrid you actually needed under live oak. We count before we cut.