The Slammer's Swing

If you ask any expert to give you a short list of the greatest players and swingers of the golf club of all time, Sam Snead will be on that list. Not only does Sam remain the winningest PGA tour player of all time, but he will always be reknowned for his smooth, powerful, graceful swing. He was the original Slammer.  But his action was smooth as silk.

Sam, if you read his books, felt that his swing was a good model to use. He felt that his swing was simple and without idiosyncrasies. Many have studied Sam's action and offered their opinions on what it was that Sam did that was so special and produced such spectacular shots for so many years. But I prefer to go to the source to try to learn what he was doing, and why.

There were three things that Sam said he did that he felt were essential. He took the club straight back, slowly and smoothly, using his left hand. He had a slight pause at the top, and he started his downswing by pulling down with the last two fingers of his left hand. His swing was controlled by his left side with a comfortably extended left arm. 

This left hand/arm control did two important things for him. First, it prevented him coming over the top, which is a curse for many amateurs and is really the result of the right hand and side getting into the action too early in the swing. Second, the pulling down with the left hand helped increase and maintain the lag in his swing.

Sam's swing, in his own words, was controlled by his left hand and arm. It was, like Bobby Jones before him, essentially a backhanded strike with his left hand. Sam believed in everything flowing together. When once asked whether he started the downswing by shifting his lower body, as Ben Hogan did, Sam replied that he simply pulled down with the last two fingers of his left hand and everything flowed together from there. That pulling down with the left hand and arm is what gave Sam that pronounced squat that we see in one of the pictures below.

The vast majority of amateurs, who struggle with slicing the ball, are under-utilizing their left side. They might take the club back using the left side, but once they get to the top, the natural instinct to try to hit the ball with their stronger right side takes over; they come over the top and hit slices and pulls. 

If you're one of those players who struggles with slicing and pulling the ball, why not try to feel what Sam felt when he swung the club. Grip the club firmly with the last two or three fingers of your left hand, push the club straight back with your left hand, try to get a bit of a pause at the top to ensure that you've completed your backswing, and then pull down with your left hand to start the downswing.

That pulling down move is very important. Gary Player was big on that move, likening it to pulling down on a bell rope. That first pull down brings the right elbow back to your side and puts you in the best position to deliver a solid strike with both hands.

If you want to see an excellent modern example of this, watch Matsuyama with his definite pause at the top of his swing and the way he pulls down and through with his left arm. Evidence of this pulling of the left arm is often seen in Matsuyama's case by the number of times his right hand actually comes off the club on his follow through. Like Sam, and so many of the great players, Matsuyama is a top hand golfer. 

Controlling your swing with your left hand and arm is not the only way to swing effectively, but according to the Slammer it was the simplest and most effective way. So, if you're searching for a swing, try imitating the Slammer. You may not ever develop as powerful and graceful a swing as a great athlete like Sam possessed, but you can learn just how effective a swing can be when you make proper use of your left hand and arm, and just, as Jack Nicklaus said, let your right hand go along for the ride.

Sam Snead

Early in his career, Sam Snead, the most prolific winner the PGA tour has ever seen was known as a choker. Like Bobby Jones, it took Sam some time to win a Major. In his book The Education of a Golfer, Sam wrote:

    "After five years as a circuit pro, I'd won close to thirty Opens, from San Diego to Miami, but not one national title. The papers called me a choke artist, a cheese champ, a 'mystery,' and a 'hex-haunted hillbilly.' One syndicated writer claimed I was the Shoeless Joe Jackson of the links--Jackson never quite able to edge Ty Cobb for the batting title.

     A hell of a comparison that was, even though it's true that I broke into golf in bare feet and in the back country, where our plumbing was a two-holer outdoors. Jackson had just Cobb and three or four others to worry about. When I was a young pro, I had Ed Dudley, Craig Wood, Vic Ghezzi, Horton Smith, Johnny Revolta, Jimmy Thomson, Lighthorse Harry Cooper, Dick Metz, Wild Bill Mehlhorn, Paul Runyan, Lawson Little, Ky Laffoon, Henry Picard, Denny Shute, Byron Nelson, Ben Hogan, Wiffy Cox, Ray and Lloyd Mangrum, Tony Manero, Jimmy Demaret, Jug McSpaden, and Guldhahl, among others, to crack up against--maybe the greatest field ever assembled."

Sam, of course, did break through and win his share of Majors, although he was skunked in the US Open. But when we think about competition, was it any less in Sam's day than in the time of Tiger, or today? Sam Snead teed it up against some hard men--men unlikely to flinch when battling for a title. His opponents were hungry. And, as Trevino said, "A hungry dog hunts best." 

So, when you talk about great players, never forget the Slammer, who went up against perhaps the greatest fields ever assembled and became the winningest of the bunch. 

Sam Snead on Hitting the Long Irons

It's funny how quickly golfers tend to blame their swing for any issues with their ball-striking. I played today with Gary, who asked me on the first tee if I would try and watch him swing when he was playing his longer irons. He complained that he was having an awful time with them.

I watched him hit a couple and couldn't see that his swing was any different when hitting the five iron than any other club. So, I suggested that he consider Sam Snead's advice regarding the long irons. Sam, of course, was famous for talking about holding the club like you were holding a baby bird. And, I suppose, if you had hands like Sam Snead you could get away with holding the club lightly. But most of us don't have hands like Sam Snead. Jackie Burke once mused that the baby bird Sam was referring to was probably a baby eagle.

With respect to the long irons, Sam said it was important to have a firm grip on the club when playing the long irons because of the  tendency for the clubface to twist at impact. So, I suggested to Gary that he simply take a firmer than normal grip with those irons and focus on making a solid strike, hitting the ball in the sweet spot. Gary tried this and, while he wasn't hitting long irons like the Slammer, he was hitting them solidly and on target, something he said was a significant improvement.

At the end of the round Gary thanked me for my help. I told him not to thank me; instead I suggested that he "thank the Slammer."

The Most Neglected Area of the Game

I've been reading Sam Snead's book, The Education of a Golfer. Sam wrote about his ailing back, a condition called spinal ostosis, which certainly made life difficult and painful for him and made him wonder whether his playing days were numbered.

Sam told the story of a trip to play in Brazil's national championship. Sam had been offered five thousand dollars plus expenses to play. However, if he won, the deal was that the first place money of two thousand dollars would not go to Sam, but be included in the guaranteed five grand. Sam, despite his bad back, shot an opening round 71, which was criticized at dinner that night by the businessman who had put up the appearance money.

Sam told the businessman that if he wanted to see him really play, he should let him have a shot at the prize money. The businessman agreed, thinking Sam was probably too far back to catch the leaders, including Roberto Di Vicenzo. Sam then went on a tear and won the tournament going away setting the course record and winning by eleven strokes. He was a money player.

What Sam relied on to win was not long hitting, but his short game. He put his drives in play and then used bump and run approaches to handle the rock-hard greens that wouldn't receive a standard approach shot. He also pitched and chipped like a demon. He wrote the following:

    "Year in and year out, a strong short-iron game--or lack of it--has decided how well I've scored as much as any other factor. The longer anyone plays golf, the more this is true. If you have a physical disability, or you're past the age where your hips turn freely, or have grown a paunch, you'll always have trouble hitting the long woods well. And when a man passes the age of forty, the odds are that his putting nerve will slip. But there's still that big shot-saving area left around the green. The heart of scoring is from 150 yards out from the pin, and the place where most matches are decided is even closer in--from 40 to 50 yards of the hole. It's also the most neglected area in the game.

     That should never be, because age, sex, size, or strength doesn't count for much when it comes to the short approaches. I know a sixty-year-old woman who can chip and pitch and run up with almost a pro's ability."

Reading this, as a guy with a chronic back problem and a paunch, I'm convinced that the only way I'm going to play well is to hone a good short game. There are no drivers, or swing changes, or exercises that are going to make me able to hit it long any more. Those days are gone. But I can still get better from 150 yards and in; and especially around the green. 

If I can forget about my long game and build up an even better repetoire around the greens, who knows, I might actually get better, rather than just older. The short game is, according to Sam, the most neglected area in the game. That may be so for most amateurs; but it certainly isn't the case for the guys who are making their living at this game.

Nobody Likes a Quitter

My wife has finally come to terms with the fact that I probably won't quit smoking any time soon.  I've got the smoker's gene, passed down from my father.  I love a good smoke; and as for quitting, nobody likes a quitter.  I'm joking of course, but as far as golf is concerned, the saying is true. 

I've been reading Sam Snead's book, The Education of a Golfer, in which he talks about learning the importance of not quitting; not mentally mailing it in when things go awry--or when things are going really well for that matter.  Because no matter how good you are, there are plenty of times when you are so disgusted, so discouraged, you'd just like to pack it in.  Sam wrote:

    "Think back to the number of times you've followed a sequence of poor shots with good ones; the number of times this has happened should surprise you.  Now work to increase this pattern in your game.  Eliminate 'quits,' develop a 'staying' attitude, and your score will drop.

     Be aware that missed tee shots are less critical than they seem; midirons, short irons, and the putter are your scoring weapons nearly 60 percent of the time.  Usually the percentage favors your chance to save a 'lost' hole.

     Imagine that par on a hole is one more stroke than the card shows; in this frame of mind, when you've landed your opening shot or shots in trouble, you'll be better able to stay in there and bail yourself out.

     Don't fool yourself that you can form the 'what-the-hell' attitude on some holes and play even average golf; the habit will wreck your game from stem to stern.  Fight back against disaster, and the self-respect it brings is worth plenty in saved strokes thereafter.

     Far more matches and tournaments are won by dogged recoveries from trouble than by blowups when a golfer is in the lead... And don't 'quit' because you're far ahead: play your hardest when you're sitting prettiest--and stay that way." 

The interesting thing about Sam's book is the fact that the biggest and most valuable lessons he learned as a young player were mental, not mechanical.  Like any great player, Sam was blessed with loads of natural ability.  We can only dream of swinging it as smoothly and powerfully as the Slammer.  But the lesson of being dogged and determined when we play is something we all can learn.  We want to be that guy who never gives up.  After all, nobody likes a quitter; even the quitter himself.  

Never quit, because your next shot, if you really focus, might be one of the best you've ever hit.  You never know--unless of course you quit.

Sam Snead's Most Valuable Lesson

In his book, The Education of a Golfer, Sam Snead describes his early life and his first round against world class players at the Greenbrier where he was paired in a match with Johnny Goodman against Lawson Little and Billy Burke.  He described how, as an unknown "peckerwood," he was able to control his nerves.

Sam shot 68, Burke 70, Little 71, and Goodman 73.  Only three holes were won that day, with Sam winning two and Goodman the other.  They had won the match 3and 2.  So how did this backwoods kid deal with the pressure of his first big match?  Sam wrote:

    "Bending over, (to hit his first tee shot) I had to take both hands to tee up my ball.  The ball looked all blurred as I stood over it.  My nerves were hopping right out of my skin.

     And then I stepped away and did something I'd been practicing.  I just let my mind take a rest by not thinking of anything in particular.  If I thought of anything, it wasn't the crowd or the match, but sort of a mixture of all the good drives I'd ever made.  Some people call it concentration, but to me it's more the trick of not thinking at all, of letting the world go by.  It's sort of like pleasant daydreaming about a wonderful place you've been or something happy you've done, but with no details dragged in. In that frame of mind, the ball isn't anything fearful; it's just a thing you're going to hit well."

Sam went on to further explain this at the conclusion of the first chapter under the heading, THE MOST VALUABLE LESSON I LEARNED.  He wrote:

    "Earlier in this chapter, I told of 'going into a sort of pleasant daydream' when I had the tee jitters against Burke, Little and Goodman.  There is a real payoff idea behind this.

     The practice swing of most ordinary players almost always carries most of the main ingredients.  The fundamentals are there.  But when they are in a match, the difference is terrific.  The feet are no longer easily set.  There is a cramped body turn.  Hands and wrists are rigid.  When this happened to me, I began thinking in terms of performance, not results.  By this I mean I had no thought beyond the ball--of traps, ponds, rough, or out of bounds.  All I did was go back to my good practice swing, on which I could count, and then to think with my swing--not ahead of the swing.  This takes will power, but it isn't so hard to let your mind relax and say to yourself, 'Here goes my practice swing--and I don't care where the ball lights or lands.  If I can't play like a good golfer in actual play, at least I can go back to my practice swing and let nature take its course.'

     Call on your will power to 'let the rest of the world go by,' and dust that thing with the form you have when nobody is watching--and watch your score go down.  Climb inside your old, regular personality, not the one that wants to take you over when the pressure is on."

Most of us wish we could hit the ball with our practice swing, that relaxed swing we take when we are just clipping the top of a daisie.  Sam Snead tells us not to wish we could use our practice swing when the pressure is on; he tells us to use our will power and just do it.  He thought that this was the most valuable lesson he ever learned.  

Wouldn't it be nice to just stand up to the ball and be yourself--just stand up there and hit it without giving a hoot where it lands.  We can if we use a little will power.

Sam Snead on the Top Hand

I've written before about how the golf swing can be controlled by the top hand.  That's the top hand on the grip--the left hand for right-handed players.  Golf is the game of opposites.  If you want the ball to go high, you hit down on it.  If you want the ball to curve right, you swing to the left.  If you want to hit the ball farther, you swing easier.  If you want to properly control your swing as a right-handed player, you must use your weaker left hand and arm.  That's just the way it is.

The greatest swinger of all time had to have been Sam Snead.  He hit it like a bullet.  Harvey Penick saw him hitting balls and decided that his future lay in teaching the game.  He figured he could never compete with a guy who hit it like Sam did.  And Sam's swing stood the test of time better than anyone.

True, Sam was a gifted athlete, with great physical attributes and strength.  But he believed that his swing could serve as a model for other golfers because of its simplicity.  How did he feel his swing was controlled?  After a forward press, Sam felt he pushed the club straight back from the ball for two feet, low and slow, using his left hand, arm and shoulder.  He felt that the first two feet of the swing was the most important determining factor in terms of hitting a good shot.  In his book, The Lessons I've Learned, he described the start of the swing as follows:

    "Once you're ready to go, I always teach a person to use what I call a forward press.  It's just a little movement that tells your body that the swing is underway.  In my case, I kick my right kneeslightly to the left, and at the same time I slide my hands ever so slightly to the left.  Then, without pausing, I push the clubhead away from the ball.  I feel that I'm pushing away with my left hand in control.  My right hand is just along for the ride.  My only effort is to keep the club moving straight away from the ball, low and slow, for the first two crucial feet.

     I want to again stress that it is important for every part of my body to work in unison, especially at the start of the swing.

     As the club moves back, my weight begins to shift to my right foot, so that by the time the clubhead has passed my right foot, most of my weight has already shifted.

     Since my left arm is moving the club straight back from the ball, both my hips and my shoulders are turning very naturally, I don't have to try to turn them.  Everything is moving in unison.

     People often talk about a quick wrist cock, but I don't like to see it, since it usually leads a person to  jerk the club back inside the target line too quickly, and the rhythm of the swing is destroyed before you even give it a chance."

It's worth noting that Arnold Palmer also believed that taking the club straight back from the ball for the first twelve inches with no wrist break, or cock, would virtually guarantee a good swing.  Jack Nicklaus also believed in taking it back with his left hand, arm and shoulder, low and slow.

Sam didn't just start the swing with his left hand in control.  He also believed that the downswing was started by pulling the club down with the last two fingers of his left hand.  This move prevented him from making an over-the-top, or casting, move that would ruin the swing.  To Sam the swing was a push and a pull with the left hand.  Push it back and pull it down.  He also wanted to feel that he was extending down the target line, essentially chasing the ball with the back of his left hand.

If you're a right-handed player, the key to the swing is your left hand.  Go figure.  Bobby Jones called the golf swing a back-handed strike with the left hand.  It may sound strange, but it's the truth.  Just watch the swings of any of the top pros and watch the back of their left hand.  Chances are it is going straight down the target line at impact.  

The Slammer

Watching these guys hit the ball at Doral, I find myself in awe of what they can do.  Some of the shots they are able to pull off--not just majestic drives--are mind boggling.  That bunker shot Adam Scott hit yesterday--I think it was on seventeen-- was out of this world.  They certainly seem to be playing a game with which I'm not familiar.

But it was interesting to note that Johnny Miller, who has seen all the greats play since the sixties, when asked to remark about the way these guys were striking it, said he had played a few rounds with Samuel Jackson Snead and has never seen anyone hit it any better than the Slammer did.

These modern players are fantastic, but according to Johnny, the Slammer was as good a ball striker as any of them.  I, for one, am inclined to believe him.