In order to assist me in making this selection, as well as to bring to bear an unbiased and completely critical view, I was able, most happily for me, to enlist the help of Charles Price, editor of The American Golfer anthology and author of The World of Golf, in addition to many other works. Charley is not only a very skillful and prolific writer, but an experienced editor and first-rate golfer. I hope and believe that nothing without real value has escaped his paring knife. Naturally, I myself preserved as best I could the integrity of the material and have rewritten only to the extent I considered to be necessary.
The writings which formed this book represent my earnest convictions about the playing of golf during those years when my rate of performance was at its peak; that is, during the final three years of my competitive activity, followed by the three or four years when I was making motion pictures, intended to be instructional, and playing with regularity and intensity. I cannot believe that there was ever another part of my life when I thought as much about golf, or had as much incentive to seek out the right answers.
I have been happy to find that there is little in this vast amount of material that I should now care to disclaim on the basis of substance. The rewriting I have felt to be necessary has been done mainly in the hope of improving readability.
In examining and comparing the methods of various players, it is always necessary to be aware of the difference between mannerisms and fundamentals. When we set side by side the playing methods of the best golfers, we always find that the basic movements and their orderly sequence are the same within a very narrow range. What makes them all distinctive are mannerisms. I myself make the differentiation in this manner: the strict observance and accomplishment of correct fundamentals represents good form; the individualistic expression by means of mannerisms projects a player’s style. So it is that no two fine golfers will present precisely the same appearance any more than will two human faces. Indeed, those golfers seen regularly are as easily recognizable by their swings as by their physical aspects.
The sophisticated student will discover in this book much that he will regard as repetitious. These repetitions are purposefully included with the thought that a slightly altered mode of expression may capture the understanding of one who has missed a similar idea expressed in another way. Such a student will also find much that is elementary. Obviously, this has been necessary because the book is intended to help players at all levels of skill. Although the top-flight player may find little that is new to him, yet I hope that even he may find some reward in an occasional perusing of this volume.
Let me repeat that I have not tried to produce a manual for instructors nor a guide for learners but rather a distillation of all that I have learned about the playing of golf during at least a half century of devotion to the game.
CHAPTER ONE
1 THE ULTIMATE OBJECT
2 SOME MEMORABLE ADVICE
3 THE FEEL OF A GOLF CLUB
4 HOLDING THE CLUB
5 MAINTAINING THE “FEEL”
6 THE VALUE OF GOOD FORM
7 SWINGING THE CLUB HEAD
8 HOW FORM AFFECTS SWINGING
The Hands
CHAPTER ONE
1 THE ULTIMATE OBJECT
With much satisfaction I often recall a shot I played at Scioto, in Columbus, Ohio, during the last round of the 1926 National Open Championship. It was on the thirteenth hole. I had just holed a four at the long twelfth, and had been informed that Joe Turnesa, who was playing two holes ahead, had taken six on that hole and five at the thirteenth. For the first time, I began to have some hope of winning, for I was now only two strokes behind. If I could get my four at thirteen, I should be only a stroke behind with five holes to play.
But the thirteenth was against the wind that day, and my spoon second, hit with every intention of bringing it in from left to right into the wind, held straight to the line and finished in a bunker on the left side of the green. The ball was lying near the far bank, leaving the full width of the bunker to be played over. The hole was a scant ten or fifteen feet beyond the opposite bank; about six feet beyond the hole was a terrace, which would carry the ball far away down the slope if it should pass over the top of the rise.
In this situation, an explosive shot or blast was of no use, because the ball, without backspin, could not be stopped short of the downslope. It was likewise impossible to chip, because my ball lay too far from the opposite bank of the bunker. Finally, I did not dare to try cutting the ball up with lots of backspin, because the lie was not good, and if I took too much sand I should leave it still in the bunker.
I do not know what I should have or could have done had not the bank of the bunker been low and not too precipitous. As it was, it was only a little over two feet high, and sloping. My only chance lay in a running shot, hoping to take the bank with the proper speed. I hit the ball with a four-iron, scuttling it across the sand, and watched it climb the bank. Luckily, it curled down the slope and came to rest four feet to the left of the hole. I got the next one in, and felt vastly relieved.
The general tendency, I think, is to overlook the possibilities in a shot of this nature. I admit that it does appear unworkmanlike and amateurish to run a shot through sand and out of a bunker, but it sometimes becomes necessary to disregard appearances. A few disasters resulting from a desire to display brilliant technique are enough to harden even the most sensitive nature. To approach the hole remains the ultimate object in the game. Once the round is under way, the business in hand becomes that of getting results. Nothing else matters.
2 SOME MEMORABLE ADVICE
Two of the greatest golfers of earlier times were the English professionals Harry Vardon and J. H. Taylor who, between them, won eleven British Open Championships. Among the many wise things both observed about the game, two especially impressed me. “No matter what happens,” Vardon once said, “keep on hitting the ball.” In effect, this is what I remembered and tried to do when playing a tournament round. Vardon was a man of immense gifts, not the least of which was his practicality.
J. H. Taylor made the statement that all the great golfers he had known had possessed a quality he chose to call “courageous timidity.” That happy phrase expresses exactly the qualities a golfer, expert or not, must have in order to get the most from whatever mechanical ability he may have. He must have courage to keep trying in the face of ill luck or disappointment, and timidity to appreciate and appraise the dangers of each stroke, and to curb the desire to take chances beyond reasonable hope of success. There can be no doubt that such a combination in itself embraces and makes possible all the other qualities—determination, concentration, nerve—we acclaim as parts of the ideal golfing temperament for the championship contender as well as for the average golfer.
3 THE FEEL OF A GOLF CLUB
There is nothing occult about hitting a golf ball. In fact, although the application may be a bit more complicated, we use no more than the ordinary principles of motion we encounter numberless times every day. Once started upon a correct path, the club will tend to hold to its course until outside forces cause a change.
The great fault in the average golfer’s conception of his stroke is that he considers the shaft of the club a means of transmitting actual physical force to the ball, whereas it is in reality merely the means of imparting velocity to the club head. We would all do better could we only realize that the length of a drive depends not upon the brute force applied but upon the speed of the club head. It is a matter of velocity rather than of physical effort of the kind that bends crowbars and lifts heavy weights.
I like to think of a golf club as a weight attached to my hands by an imponderable medium, to which a string is a close approximation, and I like to feel that I am throwing it at the ball with much the same motion I should use in cracking a whip. By the simile, I mean to convey the idea of a supple and lightning-quick action of the wrists in striking—a sort of flailing action.
4 HOLDING THE CLUB
; The huntsman knows that to cant the gun is one of the worst things he can do. So the golfer ought to know that in order to achieve success he must maintain a fixed relation throughout the swing between his hands and the face of his club. Yet many times, striving for complete relaxation, he takes such a loose grip upon the club that the least disturbing motion will cause it to turn in his hands. Many times, too, I have seen a really good player spoil a shot by loosening too much the grip of the left hand at the top of the swing. When addressing the ball, the player places his hands upon the club in a definite position, and in that position they must remain.
A strained grip upon the club tenses the muscles in the forearms and tends to stiffen members that ought to be supple and active during the stroke; but the grip may be firm without introducing the least bit of rigidity in any part of the body.
In my conception of the stroke, it is always the left arm that should be the guiding member. In the case of nearly all good players, it is the left arm that starts and controls the direction of the stroke until it comes time to hit.
For this reason, a firm grip of the left hand is the proper means of maintaining the relation between hands and club head. As the left arm remains practically straight throughout the backswing, any tightening of the forearm and wrists caused by the firmer grip will cause less damage there than in the right arm, which on the way back should be relaxed and following easily as the left directs. The right wrist and arm are the primary means of supplying speed and imparting force culminating at the ball. They should therefore remain relaxed throughout the stroke. Let us simply say that the left arm must keep the swing on track; the right hand must be responsible for timing and touch.
Those who reverse this order, maintaining a firm grip with the right hand, a flabby hold with the left—and this is not at all uncommon among beginners who are accustomed to playing right-handed games—these will lift the club to the shoulder instead of swinging it back. None will obtain a sufficient turn of the hips and shoulders, and the position at the top of the swing, with both arms bent, will be wholly lacking in poise. The impression is that such a player, if he hits the ball at all, will do so only because of the kindness of fortune.
The average golfer is ever conscious of walking a narrow path, afraid of tumbling off on one side or the other. He is caught between the danger of losing the effect of the wrist-cock if he holds firmly to the club and that of an insecure grip if he relaxes enough to allow a sufficient flexibility in his wrists. He must find a middle ground of safety.
The place for him to look is the grip of his left hand upon the club. Obviously, the shaft must not turn in his hands while he is making his stroke. So his grip must be positive and firm; and quite as obviously, if the left wrist is to be cocked, his grip must not produce any degree of stiffness in the wrist joint.
The grip of the left hand should be arranged so that the shaft of the club lies diagonally across the palm but is held mainly by the fingers. At the position of address, the club should rest upon the middle joint of the index finger of the left hand, but the most positive part of the grip of this hand should be exerted by the two smaller fingers and the middle finger.
Holding the club in this way allows a certain amount of relaxation in forearm and wrist without disturbing the security of the grip. If the club were held to any extent in the palm of the hand, exerting the pressure necessary to keep it from turning would freeze or solidify the wrist joint and render ample cocking impossible. But held by the fingers, the hand need not be clenched, but may even be opened slightly to assist the cocking, without disturbing the grip.
It is important that the effort to complete a full backswing should not disturb the left thumb. It is not uncommon to find a player who allows this thumb to slide down the shaft as the length of his backswing produces a strain in his faulty grip. Especially is this likely to occur when the thumb is placed directly on top of the shaft at address. A thumb directly on top at the beginning is found directly underneath at the top; and thus subjected to severe strain. Placing it a little upon the side eases this strain and still leaves it where it can prevent the shaft from slipping into the V between the thumb and index finger.
In the end the problem here, as in every other detail of the golf stroke, is to maintain a perfect balance between firmness and relaxation in the interests of control and rhythm.
In considering golfing tips and their worth, or rather lack of worth, one cannot help thinking of the favorite quick cure for a hook or slice involving the shifting of the position of the right hand upon the club; the right hand more under the shaft to correct a slice, and more over to correct a hook. It is familiar music, of course, but if there ever was a pure tip, having no relation to the promulgation of sound golfing information, this is it.
A correct grip is a fundamental necessity in the golf swing. It might even be said to be the first necessity, for a person must take hold of the club before he can swing it, and he must hold it correctly before it becomes physically possible for him to swing it correctly. But there was never a more pernicious thought than that the grip is something to go tinkering with in order to counteract some mistake made in swinging. Few average golfers or duffers grip the club correctly. Most should alter the position of one hand or the other, or of both, but the change should be permanent and not merely as a temporary corrective.
I began playing golf at the age of six, with the interlocking grip. I played in this way for about two years, and then changed to the overlapping. So far as I know, my grip was from then on precisely as it was when I was eight years old, or nine, whenever it was I made this change. Since that time, I experimented with changes, in order to correct temporary faults, just enough to know that they do more harm than good.
In the correct grip, the two hands should be able to function as nearly as possible as one, and their placement should encourage easy handling of the club throughout the swing. If a player is not in the habit of employing a grip that fills this bill, he should immediately alter it until it does; but after altering his grip until it is correct and comfortable, let him resolve never to change it. If something goes wrong, let him look elsewhere for the trouble, for the hands form the connection with the club; through the hands the player is able to sense the location and alignment of the club; they are the keys to his control; the slightest change leaves him groping.
The worst mistake possible in gripping the club is to separate the actions of the two hands. It is not necessary to distinguish between the overlapping, interlocking, and old-fashioned grips. Any one is good enough if the hands are placed so they can work together.
Some little latitude is allowable, but it is very small. The left hand must be in a position of power—it must be placed so that it can swing the club through without jamming the left elbow against the side. It must, therefore, be well up on top of the shaft. The beginner who holds his club so that he can see the tips of the fingers of his left hand is hopeless until he changes.
Similarly, the right hand must not be placed too far under the shaft because from this position, it may turn over in the act of hitting. If the left hand has been placed correctly, it is not likely that the right will be placed too much on top, for this would require a contortion no one is likely to endure in order to cause himself trouble.
The correct grip can be demonstrated more easily than it can be described. I should recommend to any player who is not absolutely sure that he is right, that he check his grip immediately with a competent instructor. Until he is right here, he is not ready for anything else.
One more thing should always be remembered. It is the complaint of all golfers that on some days they have the feel and on others the magic touch entirely deserts them. Many times I have found that by shifting my grip up or down upon certain clubs, particularly the driver and putter, I have been able to bring back the touch with these clubs. Often the slightly altered balance of the club, making it feel lighter or heavier as the grip is shifted down or up, is all that is needed to restore con
fidence.
5 MAINTAINING THE “FEEL”
Why is it,” someone asks, “that a fairly good golfer—that is, one who can play close to 80 on occasions—can sometimes possess what we call the “feel” to such a degree that he can hit the ball really well, and then can suddenly lose all sense of hitting until he can’t play at all? Is it because he can’t play while he is thinking about his swing?”
It seems to me that this question implies that the better player, or expert, is able to play golf without thinking of anything at all except where he wants the ball to go. I know a good many fine young chaps engaged in big-time competition who would be highly pleased if this were so.
Unquestionably, there are times when first-class players can play the game subconsciously. But the average player should remember that the most accomplished golfer can lose the touch as suddenly and for as little apparent reason as anyone else, and that, although at times he can immediately discover and correct his fault, there are also times when he is entirely at a loss for a remedy.
This does not mean that the expert does not know how he should swing the club. But golf is a difficult game to play consistently well because the correct swing is not a thing the human body can accomplish entirely naturally. To hit the ball correctly, the golfer has always to be under restraint. I have always, in my own mind, likened this restraint to that under which a trotting or a pacing horse must labor in a race when he must hold to an artificial gait although every urge must be for him to run like blazes.
So any golfer may for a while have the feel so that he may think he can go on playing in that way easily and naturally; but the trouble is that the moment some mental impulse or physical necessity suggests to one of his muscles that it do something else at a particular time, it is likely to yield, because the thing it is doing is not the thing it can do most easily. A golfer who depends upon finding the feel more or less accidentally can never hope to play consistently well, day in and out, for this very reason. He must know how to hit a golf ball and he must know when and where in his swing to apply the restraint I have mentioned.
Bobby Jones on Golf Page 2
