I hadn't warned them that I am a lefty. So after switching out the equipment already set aside for me, and with Cooper joshing me, saying, "I play with a guy who's a lefty every day; we put up with it," we head outside to the driving range. A line of people are wrapped up in their own little worlds, just swinging, swinging, swinging. Nobody takes notice of the rock god. It's clear that Cooper is a familiar sight on the nine-hole course. In fact, the Riverview is home to the annual Alice Cooper Bloodbath - "the tournament that benefits no one," says Cooper.

After Mooney positions my hands on the club, the swinging begins. "She's got a great grip already," says Cooper. I'm trying not to beam, to remain the journalist and not switch into adoring-rock-fan mode, but … it's difficult. "You're proud of me?" I ask. Then, after swinging at - and purposely breaking - a few tees to make sure I can connect, Mooney loads a tee with a ball. After a few misses, thwack. "Well, excuse me … up in the air and down the middle," Cooper beams back, shooting his arms into the air as though he himself just collected a big win.

"I'll be on the tour with you very soon - and I used to play violin, if you need that onstage," I say.

His reply: "Hit another million balls, and you'll be ready."