One of the most striking examples of the effect of the sudden relief that can come with disaster was furnished by Al Espinosa in the same National Open Championship at Winged Foot where I had one of my shocks. Al and I finished with the same seventy-two-hole total, but we compiled it in vastly different ways.
I started the last round with a lead, and even the two 7’s that hit me on the eighth and fifteenth holes were never enough to put me so far down that I could be counted out. They just kept me in hot water. But Al started with a deficit to make up, and his play for ten holes, though not good enough to make up much ground, was yet sufficiently good to keep him up near the front where he could feel the pressure. Then the thing blew up all at once and he took an eight on the eleventh hole. Of course, everybody, including Al, knew that this was the finishing touch. He was the first of the leaders to come around, so he had no idea that the rest of us would have as much trouble as we did. Already a few strokes behind, he had dropped four more on one hole, and so, with only a few holes left, he thought he was definitely out.
And so he would have been if he had played par golf on the remaining holes. But the 8 that would have come close to paralyzing him if he had held a lead of two or three strokes was a relief for him in his actual position. With no thought now of winning, he started out to play golf, to hit the ball freely and in the old accustomed way. Four 4’s and two 3’s, two under par over six really tough finishing holes, and he had a score that landed him in a tie for the championship.
One newspaper writer said that this tournament was a contest to see who could throw away the championship the greatest number of times. It did look that way, but every championship is like that to some extent. Over the long stretch after the race has really settled down, the burden continually shifts from one man to another. The early leader falters under the strain; one behind, who has had no lead to protect and nothing to worry about, forges to the front, the strain gets him, and another takes his place. Troubles may come early, or late, or in the middle. But they all have them sooner or later.
4 EIGHTEEN-HOLE MATCHES
I admit, as some have urged, that eighteen holes constitute a round of golf. But since this came about by accident rather than design, the fact supplies no reason why eighteen holes should be accepted as an adequate test in important competition.
As a matter of fact, a definite superiority of one player over another, evidenced by performance over a long period of time, when expressed in terms of strokes per round, often must be noted in fractions. Open championships over seventy-two holes are rarely won by more than one or two strokes, yet certain men have shown an ability to win them with something approaching regularity. If a definite margin can exist, and yet be so small, a succession of short matches cannot possibly meet the requirements of a true test of ability.
I don’t know yet how to regard eighteen-hole matches in a championship. I think it largely depends upon how the public, the press, and the players look at it—what importance they attach to the competition. Certainly, if the tournament is intended to determine the best golfer as champion, eighteen-hole matches defeat that aim. On the other hand, if it is intended only to be a pleasant week of golf to provide fun for the players and excitement and thrilling finishes to watch and read about, then eighteen-hole matches are ideal. Somehow, I have never been able to treat championships that lightly. They are not like invitation tournaments, and I don’t think they ought to be.
In my day, I had no doubt that the British Amateur Championship was the most difficult to win of all the important prizes. Starting with a big field that was not even reduced by stroke qualifying rounds, a succession of eighteen-hole matches was played all the way through to the final, which match alone was always played at thirty-six holes; a man might be required to win seven or eight short snatches in order to get his chance over the longer route. Since there were always in the field any number of players of little reputation who could nevertheless produce some devastating golf on occasions, upsets could always be expected. The full week of the British Amateur could be a harrowing period for a favorite. I always wanted to see how a top professional would enjoy the ordeal.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1 CONCENTRATION
2 COORDINATING THE SWING
3 GAINING EFFICIENCY
4 CONFIDENCE
5 STAYING ALERT
6 ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN
The Finish
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1 CONCENTRATION
Playing on the National Golf Links, on Long Island, long ago, I happened to be driving very well. Alec Girard, the club professional, walking around with us, asked if there was any one thing I thought about that enabled me to keep on hitting the ball where I wanted it. I replied that when I was hitting the ball well, there were always one or two things I made certain of doing, and the doing of them would assure success for a while. But they were not always the same things. One conception was good for only a limited time, and when the charm wore off, I would have to begin looking for something else. Alec said emphatically that his experience had been the same.
This is something our theorists and analysts overlook when they are not themselves reasonably capable players. It is of great value to have a clear understanding of the successive movements making up a correct golf swing; this much is needed in order to enable one to recognize and correct faults as they appear. But no human is able to think through and at the same time execute the entire sequence of correct movements. The player himself must seek for a conception, or fix upon one or two movements concentration upon which will enable him to hit the ball. Then when this wears out, because perhaps he begins to exaggerate or overemphasize it to the detriment of something else, the search must begin anew for another idea that will work. In this process, there inevitably are alterations in the swing, not in fundamentals of course, nor of radical proportions, but more than can be accounted for in any series of diagrams.
If the expert player, possessing a swing that is sound in fundamentals, has to be continually jockeying about to find the means of making it produce fine golf shots, what of the average golfer who has never developed such a swing? Still groping for some sort of method that will give him a measure of reliability, it is only natural that he should try almost anything; and he must.
There is a lot in knowing what to tinker with and what to leave alone. In making day-to-day adjustments, I never considered even for a moment making any alteration, however slight, in my grip. It is of the utmost importance that the hands should be placed on the club so that they can perform certain necessary functions, and the correct grip should be the first thing learned. But after this has been done, the accustomed feel of the club should never be altered. It is only through the grip that the player is able to sense the location of the club head and the alignment of the face. If he is constantly changing here, he cannot possibly retain this feel. The temptation is great sometimes to try to correct a temporary hooking or slicing tendency by shifting the right hand more over or under the club. This should never be done. If the grip is wrong, change it by all means, but let the change be a permanent one.
The stance can vary considerably, shifting the feet to favor a hook or a slice; the ball can be shifted about within ample limits with respect to the feet. These little changes are by no means fundamental. Even what might didactically be prescribed as the correct swing allows some latitude in these matters.
The important thing the non-golfing theorist or analyst can seldom appreciate is the importance of the player’s conception of how to put the correct swing to work. Very often what a man feels he is doing is more important than what he does. The feel, the experience, is so much easier to remember and repeat. When you arrive at a feeling of doing something in any part of the stroke and that something continues to produce good results, you will have a player’s conception to hang onto. It is something upon which to concentrate, and this everyone must have in order to play consistent golf. Even the soundest swing must have some simple c
ontrol to keep it in order.
To say that any round of golf offers a magnificent gamble in the way of form is to add nothing new. We all realize that we can never know in advance how the shots will go on a particular afternoon. To go even farther, we can have no assurance, after hitting seventeen fine tee shots, that the eighteenth will not be disgraceful. These are the uncertainties the golfer accepts as parts of the game, and indeed loves it all the more because of them.
Yet a player’s satisfaction with the game he produces is measured directly by his ability to eliminate these bad shots and to correct the faults that inevitably find their way into his swing. In this one respect, at least, all golfers are on common ground, for in consideration of their respective skill and expectations, the problems of prevention and correction are the same for the dub and the expert.
Leaving entirely aside the question of skill and assuming that each individual has a standard to which he might reasonably expect to live up, perhaps it would be worthwhile to try to assign a reason for periodic or repeated failures to attain this standard. Of course, viewed in this way, the mechanical and physical sides are left entirely out. We want to know not why John Smith cannot play as well as Sam Brown but why John Smith so often fails to play as well as John Smith ought to play, with whatever skill he may possess.
Obviously, having eliminated every other variable, there is only John Smith’s mind to look into, and this is where John Smith should look more often.
To play any golf shot correctly requires an unwavering concentration. The most perfect swing in the world needs direction, and plenty of it, and when its possessor begins to do a little mental daisy picking, something always goes wrong. A perfect attunement of every faculty is a thing even the finest players attain only very rarely, but by constantly keeping a vigilant watch over themselves they are able to shut out major vices over a comparatively long period of time. Their concentration is not occasional, but extends to every single shot, no matter how simple it may appear.
But human fallibility makes an unwavering concentration impossible, and this makes the commission of error unavoidable. The first lapse often leads to a second, and so on, until the whole structure is undermined and confusion results. The poor victim soon becomes unable to find anything to concentrate on. It is then that he must save himself by his knowledge and understanding of the swing, not necessarily of the perfect swing, but of his own. In order to have a chance of making progress, he must know, or have some idea, at least, of the sense of feel he is trying to regain.
Naturally, it is better to keep out faults than to have to correct them after they have made their appearance. Therefore, the longer a satisfactory concentration can be maintained, the better. But one thing may well be accepted at the outset, that as long as one continues to play golf, the happy periods will be followed by sorrow, and every swing will have to have periodic overhaulings.
But proper concentration during a round of golf is intended to accomplish something different from the perfect execution of each stroke. Powers of concentration alone cannot make up for any vast deficiency of skill and bring a mediocre player up to the level of one who possesses more real ability. But while on their respective form and ability to make shots and keep on making them, a wide gulf separates the champion from the average golfer, still, in one respect, their problems are the same when they start upon a round of golf. What each wants is a good round for him, and this leaves a comparison of their expectations entirely out of the issue.
2 COORDINATING THE SWING
It is surprising how easy it is to lose sight of the very obvious fact that in golf the all-important necessity is that the ball should be struck truly. It has often been pointed out, in connection with putting particularly, that the best judgment in the world and the most careful consideration of hazards and other dangers, are of little avail if the shot be not well struck. But to a greater or less degree, depending upon the skill and confidence of the individual, every golfer on earth suffers from this disturbance of his concentration, by influences entirely outside his own swing. I myself admit to equal guilt with the rest, although I have asked myself time after time if I derived any benefit from worrying about a hazard once I had decided upon the kind of shot to be played.
This is one of the reasons why the golf swing cannot be learned in actual play. No one can entirely ignore the responsibilities attendant upon the playing of any shot in a round of golf, no matter how unimportant may be the issue. Habits should be formed and instruction had on a practice tee where there is nothing to think about but hitting the ball.
Because no two men present the same appearance when striking a golf ball, and because nearly all instruction is along the same general line, the average observer may receive the impression that the expert does not practice what he preaches.
Many people I am sure have this idea. They feel that the pro has nothing to think of except hitting the ball, and that when he says he does so and so, he is merely guessing. Styles and mannerisms in a golf stroke are as varied as human appearances. To an experienced observer, it is just as easy to recognize a man by his swing as by his face, his back, or his gait. Yet mannerisms must not be confused with the fundamentals of the stroke. While Hogan may be easily distinguishable on the links from Player, yet there are certain basic principles both observe, and it is this basic swing with which teaching is solely concerned.
There are numbers of very fine golfers who give little thought to the details of the stroke and who make no effort to understand and prepare for the little troubles which may arise without warning. To these men, playing a golf shot is a sort of haphazard proposition to be performed either badly or well as chance may decide. They have not the ability to play consciously, for they do not know what direction to give to any control they may attempt to exercise. A fine natural swing is best let alone so long as it is in first-class working order; but no matter how sound the mechanism, there always comes a time when little adjustments have to be made; and it seems to work out that on the days when it is most necessary that everything be clicking, someone will loosen a nut, or forget to put in the oil, and everything will go to smash. Often, too, the strain of competition is a force sufficent to destroy a player who has played very well during the preliminary practice.
A fine swing with no knowledge or control of fundamentals may be enough to win occasionally. But it can be written that the consistent winner is aware beyond mere guesswork of what he is doing. To win consistently, or to be always near the top, requires that a man play well even when his swing is out of tune. Competitions cannot be arranged to find each player at the crest of his game. If the unlucky one cannot discover and surmount the difficulties, he will be left behind.
To play subconsciously considerably lessens the nerve strain of competition. More than that, it is usually the most effective way to play when the swing is in groove. Almost anyone can distinguish himself when these requirements are met. But the man at the top cannot afford to depend upon any such chance; he must be able, when anything goes wrong, to control the stroke consciously and direct it in such a way that good, sound golf will result.
True it is that on occasions the man with a good, sound swing can play good golf without giving much thought to the swing. On such occasions, he is able to sense a perfect coordination among all parts of his swing, and he knows it is right and is best left alone. When this happy state exists, the game is simple, the shots come off easily, and a fine score results with hardly any effort or worry.
But the unfortunate part of it is that this happens only very rarely, only a few times a year, and it comes and goes entirely apart from the will of the player. If Palmer, Player, Nicklaus, or any other golfer similarly equipped were able to arrange his perfect days to coincide with the Open Championship dates, he would be champion every year and have no need to know anything about his swing. Since he cannot do this and must make his effort in whatever state he finds himself, he must have a fairly accurate idea of how a correct swing can be a
ccomplished.
A haphazard player may succeed once or twice if he happens to strike one of these inspired streaks at the right time. But in order to win or make a good showing consistently, he must be able to play good golf even when the inspiration has escaped him and he must work for what he gets. I think it may be taken that any player who is able to give a good account of himself in tournament after tournament knows pretty well how he is swinging the club and is able to think about his method while he is playing the shot. It ought to be perfectly plain that if he did not have these qualities, any tendency to error suddenly developed in the course of a round would have to go uncorrected and would prove disastrous.
Only in some such way as this is it possible to explain the fact that so many players, who are wolves in informal rounds, become lambs when faced by a card and pencil. Obviously, these men must know how to swing a golf club or they would not be able to play consistently well, no matter how informally; but the importance of a big tournament produces so great an anxiety in their minds concerning the result of a stroke that they cannot concentrate properly upon the making of it. They are not able to shut the prospect of failure from their minds long enough to complete the stroke without some sort of interruption, either of mind or nerve.
3 GAINING EFFICIENCY
Often, when we are trying to take strokes off our score, we attach too much importance to new theories of the swing, and overlook the fact that we are not getting everything we should out of the mechanical ability already possessed. Good golf, like any other human endeavor, is dependent upon human efficiency, and this is determined exactly as in the case of a steam engine, and is fixed by the percentage of latent power or ability that can be turned into effective work. The elimination of waste power, and the turning of every force to advantage, is the secret of high efficiency.
Bobby Jones on Golf Page 21
