Bobby Jones on Golf

by Robert Tyre Jones

  Absolute concentration upon the ball is materially aided by substituting for the objective of the putt, instead of the hole itself, a spot on the green somewhere along the intended line. For a putt of six to ten or twelve feet—of the length one would normally at least hope to hole—the spot selected should be about halfway to the hole; for a putt of more than this length, the spot should be no more than fifteen feet from the ball. It should then be the player’s aim to strike the ball so that it will roll directly over this spot, and he should forget the hole entirely except insofar as his mental picture of the length of the putt will affect the force of his blow. In order to become more consistent, the player should make up his mind to concentrate every effort upon striking the ball truly. If he succeeds here, he cannot go far wrong.

  Many good putters will declare that they putt well because they follow through straight toward the hole. Whether or not the follow-through is a virtue, it certainly cannot be a prime cause, for when it takes place, the ball has started on its way. I have never been a believer in a fixed putting style. It has always been my idea that more attention should be given to gauging the effect of a slope, and to estimating the speed of a green—in other words, to training the eye—than to the mechanical perfection of the stroke. It is evident that no matter how accurately the ball may be struck, it must be started on the right line and at the right speed.

  As an indication that the line is the important thing, I can truthfully say that I have holed very few putts when I could not see definitely the path the ball should follow into the hole. Sometimes this fine seemed to be as clearly defined as if someone had marked it out with white paint; I cannot remember failing at least to hit the hole when I have been able to see the fine this clearly.

  There is one thing a golfer should always remember and always practice. In any round there are always numbers of times when the proper line to the hole is obscure; if it were always visible, we should miss few putts. But it is always a good practice, when the correct line cannot be determined, to borrow generously from any slope and to attempt to cause the ball to pass a tiny bit above the hole. If the ball remains above the hole, there is always a chance that it will fall into the upper side, and it is certain that it will at any rate stop not far away. But once a putt begins to roll below the hole, every inch it travels carries it farther from that precious cup.

  The art of appraising slope and speed—that is, of reading a green—can be derived only from experience. The player who sees only the greens on his home course is at some disadvantage because he comes to know these in spite of himself. In order to broaden his experience, he should play other courses as often as possible.

  13 CHOOSING A PUTTER

  Nine times out of ten, a change from one type of putter to another will effect no lasting good. The new one may work better at first or on occasions, but consistency would be better served by sticking to the old one and making friends with it.

  It is, of course, up to the individual to choose the kind of putter he wants. The design makes little difference so long as the balance is good, the club is easily handled, and the face is true. Whether the head be of aluminum, wood, or iron is a matter of little consequence, generally speaking, although it has been the experience of most good putters that certain kinds of clubs are more reliable under certain conditions.

  For instance, the iron putter of medium weight seems to be more effective on fast, keen greens, for with it the ball may be struck more firmly. For the same reason, it is more reliable on putts of ten feet or less. This type is certainly the most popular today in America where greens are small, and very long approach putts are rare. (Remember this was originally written more than thirty years ago—but the principles are still the same.)

  Putters of aluminum are splendid implements for rolling a long putt up close to the hole; hence the putt always runs freely and easily over the green. This is a splendid feature when the surface is rough or heavily grassed and slow. These putters are treacherous, however, on very short putts because it is difficult to hit with them both firmly and gently.

  The center-shaft putter is usually of an upright lie. It is amazingly effective from short distances. When the ball lies two yards or less from the hole, it is comparatively easy to keep the putter swinging on line with the hole. But this upright position is sometimes embarrassing to a free swing for a long approach putt. It is this difficulty, I believe, that has been largely responsible for the almost complete disappearance of the Schenectady and Travis models.

  14 ATTITUDE

  Someone told me a story about an experienced professional who regained his putting confidence by rather drastic measures in the middle of a round. Playing well otherwise, he suddenly lost all ability to hole a short putt. After missing several, he was left, at one hole, with a mean one of about four feet. This time he walked quickly up to the ball, closed his eyes, and rapped the recalcitrant sphere straight into the middle of the cup. He holed the next one or two in the normal way and thereafter pursued his way rejoicing.

  I should neither attempt nor recommend the method employed here, but there can be no question that anxiety and too much care cause most short putts to go astray. When you see a man obviously trying to guide the short putt, or hitting quickly with a short, stabbing stroke, even though he may hole a few, it will not be long before he meets trouble. A short putt, even as a long one, must be struck with a smooth, unhurried, and confident stroke. The best way to accomplish this is to decide upon a line to the hole and to determine to hit the ball on that line and let it go hang if it wants to. I have never had any better advice in golf, from tee to green, than was contained in a telegram sent me by Stewart Maiden in 1919. It read: “Hit ’em hard. They’ll land somewhere.” You must not apply this advice literally to putting, but its application is obvious. Hit the putt as well as you can, and do not allow worry over the outcome to spoil the stroke.

  It is worthy of observation that nearly everyone finds it easier to stroke properly putts of twelve to fifteen feet than those from less or greater distances. There is a very good reason why this should be true. The player fears he will miss a shorter putt, and fears he may fail to lay a longer one dead, but when he is putting from the middle distances, he merely hopes he may hole out, without feeling that he must guide the ball into the hole—and he knows that he will not likely take three putts.

  We would all profit greatly if we could cultivate this attitude toward putts of all lengths; it ought to be easy, too, for we all know, or should know by this time, that worry does very little good. If we must be wrong, we may as well make our mistakes gracefully by choosing the wrong line as by allowing a nervous, overcareful stroke to pull the ball off direction.

  I remember back in my high school days, I was living within the range of a good iron shot from the East Lake course, and on nights when the moon was out, I used to go over to the club, and putt, with a friend and neighbor, on the practice green near the tenth tee. The moonlight, of course, revealed the hole, and it also made visible the more prominent slopes and undulations, but it kindly left obscured the more subtle slopes and irregularities—wormcasts and the like. In this half-revealing light, it was a source of wonderment to my friend and me that we invariably putted better than in broad daylight, especially when it came to holing out from distances up to eight or ten feet.

  There must be something to be learned from that moonlight putting. I believe it to be this—the men who putt well on greens good and bad must have schooled themselves to see a putting green as we used to see it in the moonlight.

  Let me say here that I do not believe any man can be so accurate in striking a golf ball, or so uncannily precise in his judgment of speed, borrow, roll, and all the other things that go to make a perfect putt, that he can propel a golf ball over ten yards of uneven turf with such unerring certainty that it will find a spot the size of the hole. There are so many factors to be taken into account that the skill required is simply beyond me.

  I wonder how many putt
s that are holed follow exactly the path laid out for them in the player’s mind. I should say that as many of those that go down deviate from that path as follow it. It appears to me that the good putter is simply the man who can keep coming close—who gets more times within one-foot radius—and that such a man holes more putts because of the greater number that come close, a greater number more likely will go in.

  Working on this idea, it must appear that we should concern ourselves mainly with the more general contours of a slope rather than to try to account for every little hop or roll the ball is likely to take. This does not mean that we should be taking a haphazard shot at the hole, but only that we should determine upon a line upon which we want the ball to start and hit firmly upon that line.

  Worrying about rough spots in the green has no effect except to make the stroke indecisive, and I believe that bad putting is due more to the effect the green has upon the player than to that it has upon the action of the ball.

  T. W. Palmer, of Miami, was one of the best putters I have ever seen. His theory was that no matter how rough the surface or how bristly the grass, there was always a way to hit the ball so that it would run truly. It really mattered little whether or not he was right or if he could hit the ball in that way so long as he thought he could.

  Alex Smith was once asked why he never troubled to remove wormcasts from the line of his putt, his interrogator pointing out that the obstructions might deflect his ball from the hole. “Aye, and they might bounce it into the cup, too,” replied Alex.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  1 FINDING THE ORTHODOX

  2 STARTING A NEW SEASON

  3 THE STRAIGHT LEFT ARM

  4 USING THE GROUND

  5 STAYING DOWN TO THE BALL

  6 TIMING

  7 DELAYING THE HIT

  8 CLOSED FACE VS. OPEN FACE

  9 HITTING FROM THE INSIDE

  A Short Iron

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  1 FINDING THE ORTHODOX

  Golfing methods differ from each other in many particulars. Each good player presents an appearance so unlike any other that he can be recognized from great distances merely by the manner in which he swings the club. The inexperienced observer often fastens onto these differences, concludes that each man employs a radically different swing, and sets about modeling his form upon that of a player he will select; this one he will ape faithfully and exactly to the last detail.

  A closer study of the better players reveals that although no two are alike, or even nearly so, still there are certain things that all do. Not only are we justified in regarding these unanimously accepted practices as sound, but it would seem that every golfer, large or small, fat or lean, would do well to adopt them as his own. The fact that almost every effective swing displays certain things in common with all others is evidence enough that these things ought to be parts of every method. Indeed, these are about the only details of the stroke the instructor is able to give to a rank beginner; these are the only things that he can tell him positively to do. The rest of the teacher’s job is to correct faulty movements and to fit together a stroke upon the proper foundation already supplied; but the stroke as a whole is not developed upon any set lines. Fundamentals must be observed, but much latitude is allowed for accommodating individual needs.

  A thorough understanding of the fundamentals of the stroke should be the first aim of the beginner. It may be said, of course, that there is a fundamentally correct swing from which everyone should vary only slightly. But that is not what I mean, for a thorough understanding of this sort of swing, and the ability to produce it, are the two things that all of us have been seeking and so few have ever attained. I have reference only to the obvious things that are easily seen and accomplished by the average inexperienced player, things that an ordinarily good player learns for himself, and an expert never has to think about. Nevertheless, these points can be noted by everyone to his advantage.

  One reason for the consistency of the best players is the possession of a sound swing; meaning nothing more than a swing in which the successive positions are taken in accordance with accepted practice among expert players. It will be found that the man who departs far from what we call the orthodox, even if he is at times effective, is yet an erratic and unreliable player. He who starts in an unexciting position, and commits no unwarranted extravagance, is usually the more consistent player, because he places himself in positions and moves his club in paths from which, and through which, other successful players have found the going easier. All men are enough alike to make it safe to follow examples proved effective by others.

  2 STARTING A NEW SEASON

  The most trying time of the year for the golfer is always the time when he comes out of hibernation and begins to tune his game back to a point where he can again enjoy it. After a long winter layoff, each club feels like a broom handle, and each ball when struck transmits a shock up the shaft, causing the player to think he has hit a lump of iron. Golf is not much fun during this period; but it is a period we must endure to enjoy the pleasures beyond.

  Any man would be grateful, I think, for any hints that might help him get through this “tuning up” period with as little suffering as possible. Although all of us do not have the same troubles and need to apply the same correctives, when we are playing regularly, I noticed that my companions manifested much the same tendencies when suffering from lack of practice. Apparently, golfing muscles lose much in elasticity and responsiveness when not in use, and being unaccustomed to performing normal functions, act upon demand in much the same way for all individuals.

  The first failure is in the length of the backswing; it is not hard to detect in any case a tendency to shorten the backward motion, and to whip the club back to the ball almost before it has reached the shoulder position. This is one way in which lack of assurance is manifested, the player being actually afraid to let himself out as far as he would if extended to midsummer form.

  The second failing in part results from the first, although it is also attributable to the fact that the winter layoff has impaired the sense of timing. This sense is entirely dependent upon practice, and when one fails to practice, or play, he must lose the rhythm of the stroke. But it will be noted that in the spring the error is always on the fast side; no one ever swings too slowly.

  The third common tendency is to attempt to lift the ball instead of striking it firmly downward. This, I think, is due to a slack left hand and wrist. The player is not quite certain that he has done everything correctly, so that he reaches the ball with the feeling that he perhaps ought to turn back to try it over again. Then he either slackens his grip or pulls the punch and spoils the shot.

  These are not all the sorrows that may be encountered during the first few rounds of spring, but they are those most commonly experienced. If we could start out on the lookout for them and promptly put them away, our days in purgatory would be lessened considerably. Let us resolve, then, that in the coming spring we will swing back slowly, that we will swing back far enough—even farther than we think necessary—that we will grip firmly with the left hand, and that we will punch briskly through the ball. If we will do, and remember, these few things, it will not be long before we find the groove.

  My own experience each year was somewhat tantalizing. From the end of the Amateur Championship until warm weather came again, I usually played only three or four rounds, sometimes with as much as two months intervening between successive attempts. On these occasions, I went out relaxed and with very little concern about the results I might be able to obtain. Then I played fairly well. But when spring drew near, and I began to play a bit more often, I found myself doing the very things I have mentioned above. The first round, when nothing much was expected, was not so bad, but after that the trouble began.

  3 THE STRAIGHT LEFT ARM

  Good form in any physical activity must be valued in terms of efficiency. The efficiency of a thermal engine, for example, is measured by the ratio of the work don
e by the engine to the heat energy supplied to it. The efficiency of a golf stroke must be measured, in the same way, by the ratio of the work done on the ball to the amount of physical energy used up in the swinging. The expert golfer drives far with little apparent effort because of the high rate of efficiency of his performance. The duffer, though he strain himself to the utmost, falls far behind because so much of the energy expended goes to waste.

  A high rate of efficiency, and hence good form, in golf, depends upon three things: the development of the greatest possible club head speed at contact, with whatever energy or power the player can supply; the achievement of a precisely accurate contact between club and ball, directing the blow along the line upon which it is intended that the ball shall travel; and consistency in performing approximately according to these standards.

  Although these are obvious generalities, it is helpful to do a little thinking along these lines in order to appreciate the importance to a golfer of a proper use of his left arm. For it is in this particular that all duffers are most appallingly deficient, and here, too, that the better players most often go astray.

  For some persons, a straight left arm is a physical impossibility. So let us say that an extended left arm is one of the prime requisites of good form. In many ways, it contributes to club head speed, accurate contact, and consistency of performance—the three components of the efficiency rate.

  Just now we are interested chiefly in the backswing. The backward movement is merely the means of storing up power to be used in the hitting—but to increase the amount of this stored-up energy is of first importance. We have seen that the beginning was made in the hips in order to assure that the windup of the body would at least be started. When this had progressed a short distance, we began to force the club back with the left arm.