Henry Cotton on the Golf Swing

Henry Cotton was one of Britain's great players. The book, The Methods of Golf's Masters, has some excellent information about Cotton's view on the golf swing and how he came to have it. I think it is terrific information for those players still searching for their swing.

The book reads:

    "Cotton is golf's ultimate 'hands' man, an unrepentant iconoclast who relentlessly insists: (a) that the ever-growing accent on body action is at best wrongheaded and at worst physically injurious and (b) that there is no way mechanically to program and fundamentalize the golf swing, at least insofar as the average mortal is concerned."

No one was more fanatical or worked harder to develop their game than Cotton, with the possible exception of Ben Hogan. He began playing at eight years of age and was not a natural talent. He hit countless thousands of balls, experimenting with more methods than even Gary Player. Methods of Golf's Masters goes on to say:

    "The stories told in British clubs of the youthful Cotton having to be carried off practice putting greens because of muscular seizures resulting from bending over the ball so long are not apocryphal. Since early middle age he has had to do calisthenics to counter bone and muscle distortions resulting from endless hitting of golf balls.

     The theories he now so emphatically promulgates about hitting a ball would therefore seem to be drawn from an extremely valid source--a vast and wide-ranging amount of personal trial and error resulting in one of the most effective swings in history.

     In proclaiming that the key to sound and long-lasting golf lies in the condition and actions of the hands, Cotton does not deny that other methods work--simply that the hands method, once mastered is the easiest, most effective, and longest lasting. The only really adamant stance he takes is against the concept that the golf swing can be mechanically standardized--a position borne of his own failure to do just that after one of the greatest single efforts in history to accomplish such a goal. He had clearly recognized this personal failure as long ago as 1938, when he wrote in an American magazine:

    'I have always admired the attitude of American golfers in general towards the game of golf, and have always gained much encouragement from their enthusiasm, although I must say that I never quite understood the idea of those seeking to standardize golf instruction throughout the world. It was perhaps in theory a worthwhile idea, but one destined to fail.

     At one time I felt it would be possible to perfect a standard system, but now, whilst I am prepared to concede there are certain fundamentals in the golf swing, I believe the whole art of teaching golf lies in helping the pupil to translate the fundamental principles via his own physique. I have wasted... much time trying to copy assiduously different leading players. This was especially true when I began to study the game. But it was not until I decided I could not play their way that I made much improvement.

     Golf is an individual game and will ever be so, whilst human beings vary in physique. The thoroughness with which American golfers have analysed golf in an attempt to find 'the secret' has further convinced me there is no secret. To watch a first-class field drive off must surely convince everyone that a golf ball can be hit in many ways.'

      Later he also conceded that his original highly mechanistic approach to developing a putting stroke was one of the chief reasons he was so poor a performer on the greens, compared with his prowess at at reaching them."

So what did Cotton believe was key to swinging a golf club? In my next article I'll cover that.

It Was the Power of the Putter for Rickie Fowler

I have to admit, I was awfully pleased to see Rickie Fowler close the deal at the Honda yesterday. He's a great kid with a terrific attitude. Jack Nicklaus, whose wife, Barbara, has "adopted" Rickie and acts as his Florida mom, couldn't help but rave on air about what a fine kid Rickie is. And did I mention that he went to the Olympics and had a great time?

It wasn't even close in the end; not because Rickie didn't make it interesting with a couple of balls in the water. It wasn't close in the end because none of the also-rans could mount a charge in the difficult conditions, with swirling winds, sometimes upwards of twenty miles per hour. Only Jonny Vegas was able to go low early with a terrific 64. But he was too far back to challenge, eventually finishing tied for fourth.

And ultimately, as it often is, it was the "power of the putter" that kept any wolves at bay for Rickie. When things were starting to look bad, and his ballstriking was shaky, Rickie drained a couple of long birdie putts and was able to come home with plenty of shots to spare. You can get away with some iffy ballstriking if you can putt. That putter covers a multitude of sins. Three of these and one of those still makes four, as the great Walter Hagen said. 

It's worth noting that Rickie never missed a putt inside seven feet for four rounds. That, my friends, is rolling your rock. Well done, Rickie.

Rickie Has a Big Day Tomorrow at the Honda

Rickie Fowler looks to be a man on a mission at the Honda Classic. As those around the lead starting the third round struggled, Rickie seemed to be totally in control, posting a fairly stress-free 65. 

What a great swing this kid has. We learned today that, pound for pound, he is the second longest driver in the game, bettered only by his buddy, Justin Thomas, who weighs five pounds less. Rickie also seems to have perfected the fade, a shot that, as I recall, caused him some trouble in his playoff loss to Matsuyama last year in Phoenix. And he used that fade to great advantage today. 

Rickie Fowler is definitely not just a pretty face. When he's on his game he's proven he can run with anybody in the game. He has perhaps under-achieved, with only three PGA tour victories to date. But he definitely has the right stuff, as his victory at the Players Championship demonstrated beyond any doubt.

I think tomorrow is a big day for Rickie. He needs another win and he needs to know he can finish one off after some of the disappointments he's suffered in the past year; not the least of which being his loss to Matsuyama. I hope he pulls it off. But the Bear Trap stands in his way. As Jack says, the tournament will likely be won or lost there.

Bobby Locke Learned Three Important Things From Bobby Jones

I discovered a new, old book, entitled The Methods of Golf's Masters, by Dick Aultman and Ken Bowden. I have maintained that the people we should be learning from are the best players in history; many of whom are, or were, the best teachers. Operating on Lee Trevino's theory about teachers; when he said he would never take a lesson from anyone who couldn't beat him; I think it makes sense to listen to those golfers who have been able to put theory into practice. 

Much of the information talks about the swings of the Masters. But, as Tom Weiskopf wrote about the book, it goes beyond simply swing mechanics. Weiskopf wrote: "Really gave me a great insight into the games and personalities of the stars I've never had the chance to know personally. Every average golfer will learn a lot from the expert analysis of these great players' swings, but what fascinated me was their mental attitudes. It's amazing, for example, how many of them place such emphasis on relaxation."

Bobby Jones advised golfers to fight physical tension wherever it may be found, believing that muscular tension was the enemy of the golf swing. It's interesting to note that the wonderful South African player, Bobby Locke patterned his game after Bobby Jones. Locke is quoted as having said the following on that subject:

    "When I was thirteen, my dear old dad gave me Bobby Jones' book on golf, and he said to me, 'Son, here is the finest golfer in the world, and I want you to learn how to play from his book. A lot of people are going to try to help you, but let it go in one ear and out the other. You just model your game on Bobby Jones and you will be a fine player.' So that's what I did when I started, and what I have done all my life."

It worked out pretty well for Bobby Locke; modelling his swing and his game on that of Bobby Jones. And, besides swinging the club easily, what did Locke learn? He learned to play the game with what the book describes as a "benign imperturbablity." 

From Jones, he learned three important things that had nothing to do with the golf swing. As the book says:

    "Very early in life he (Bobby Locke) had learned three things: one, that physical relaxation or at least lack of muscular tension is essential to playing good golf shots; two, that the game can be played only one shot at a time; and three, that there will always be an element of luck in golf."

Knowing these things helped Locke avoid, as much as possible, muscular and mental tension. He swung within himself. He played one shot at a time, avoiding getting caught up in worries about things beyond his control. And he recognized that a certain a mount of luck was involved in winning or losing, so he didn't beat himself up.

We might not be tempted to try to swing the club like Bobby Jones, or Bobby Locke. But we would all do well to copy their mental approach.

The Vardon Grip

Harry Vardon was the Tiger Woods of his day. He entered the professional golf scene after his brother, Tom, had won a professional event. Harry figured, since he knew he could beat his brother, he should follow suit and go out on tour--such as it was in those days.

Vardon was almost unbeatable at the height of his powers, but had two bouts of tuberculosis that saw him unable to play for extended periods. In later life he also developed a "flinch" on his short putts; likely what we now call the yips. He remained a wonderful ballstriker all his days.

Vardon is most famous now adays for having given us his over-lapping grip. It remains the standard for most good players to this day. One thing that Vardon said about his grip that I think is vital for all golfers is that the knuckles of his left hand should face the target line and the knuckles of his right hand should face exactly the other way. In other words, the palms of his hands faced eachother and the back of his left hand and the palm of his right hand faced the target line.

When wanting to figure out how to best grip the club, Harvey Penick suggested we grip a ruler, or a yardstick, as though we were going to use it to strike a ball. Most if us would naturally grip the yardstick with our palms flat against the flat surface of the ruler. If we then were to prepare to hit a ball, our right palm would face the target line, and the knuckles of our left hand would as well.

If you have an uncomfortable grip, try the yardstick idea. Then place your hands on the club the same way. If you don't have better results gripping the club this way; whether you overlap or interlock your fingers, or just use all ten; I'll eat my hat.

Bobby Jones on Winning Tournaments

Bursting on the stage at fourteen years of age in the US Amateur, where he nearly beat the defending champion, Bobby Jones endured seven lean years where he just couldn't seem to break through and win a major championship. In his book Down the Fairway Bobby talked about the change in attitude that helped him break through and win five of his next ten majors.

He wrote:

    "There has been a change in my tournament attitude; of that I am sure. It was not an improvement in shot-making. Leaving off the minor refinements, I had as good an assortment of shots in the seven lean years as I have today. I think I never played particularly badly in any one of those tournaments, before I broke through to win. I know that in the amateur competitions I never was beaten by a man who was not playing first-rank golf. And as I began to read more and more, and hear more and more, the dictum that I was a great golfer, but I could not win a major championship, the sorry option seemed forced upon me that either I was jinxed--a wretched sort of plea--or that I didn't have the tournament stuff... I pondered that miserable option more than I would care to have people know.

     Yet I won that championship, after tying with Bobby Cruickshank; and I think that perhaps it was in that tournament my attitude began changing. I saw Jock Hutchison leading after the first round and the second, collapsing midway of the third round. I saw Bobby Cruickshank, going to the fourteenth tee of the final round in a dazzling burst of golf--he went through seven holes, beginning with No.6, in 23 strokes--break down even as I had broken down in my own finishing round, and tie me by shooting a wonderful birdie 3 at the seventy-second hole. And I managed to beat him in a play-off.

     So I suppose I began to understand that the other fellows all had their troubles, too; that I didn't have to go out and shoot four perfect rounds to win a major open championship, or even one perfect round, if I could just keep four decent rounds sticking together. I suppose I began instinctively to understand that the tournament strain bears down on everybody; not only on me. I suppose I began to understand that one lost stroke did not necessarily have to be redeemed at once; perhaps it was not ruinous; perhaps the other fellows were losing a stroke, too."

At Flossmoor Bobby had tied Chick Evans for low medal score in the qualifying round. Since they both were knocked out in match play, they played off in stroke play to determine the medalist. It was in this round that Bobby's attitude changed. He wrote:

    "In this play-off with Chick, at medal competition, I was two strokes down. But I had a different attitude. Some way, I wasn't in that frantic hurry, about getting those strokes back. It was as if something deep in my consciousness kept counseling patience. Patience! Somewhere lately I heard or read that the greatest asset of Harry Vardon was his perfect realization of the cold fact that no matter what happened, there was only one thing for him to do--keep on hitting the ball. I hadn't heard or read that, at Flossmoor; and I cannot say that such a plan was in my mind. Instinctively or otherwise, I managed to keep on hitting the ball, and not trying to wrench back those strokes immediately. And presently--presently they came back to me, in a sort of normal and ordinary manner, and some more with them.

     So maybe that is the answer--the stolid and negative and altogether unromantic attribute of patience. It is nothing new or original to say that golf is played one stroke at a time. But it took me many years to realize it. And it is easy to forget, now. And it won't do to forget, in tournament golf...

     Maybe that is the answer--patience. Whatever I may possess of it now must have been cultivated, as I assuredly did not have it at first, and the number of years required to hammer it in to me is a sorry commentary on my native intelligence."

So, when you hear the third round leader telling the news reporters that he is going to try to be patient and play one shot at a time in the hopes of finishing the tournament off; know that what he's saying is not simply an over-used cliche, it's what he must do to win.

Bobby Jones on the Stresses of Tournament Golf

Bobby Jones concluded his book Down the Fairway with a chapter on tournament golf. He wrote about the fact that, in his opinion, it was possible to be a great golfer, and not a great tournament golfer. He also spoke about the changes he made in his diet during a tournament. 

Bobby wrote about the stresses of championship golf. He wrote:

    "It must be a sort of subjective nerve-tension, this difference in tournament golf. Years ago I discovered the best preparation for a big tournament, for me, was as much rest as I could acquire, in the twenty-four hours before the opening gun. In my younger days I liked to play a lot of golf, right up to the day the competition began. Often I'd play 36 holes the day before it started. Now I try always to schedule the little preliminary practice season, of three or four days, so that the kast day I can rest. In bed, often with a book... If I can avoid it, I never touch a golf club the day before a big competition opens, and I prefer to play only 18 holes a day the two days preceding.

     The fair success of this plan induces the opinion, then, that the strain of championship golf is mostly mental; and certainly the mere physical strain would not burn one up as has been my experience in so many tournaments. Could anyone make me believe that six days of just golf, 36 holes a day, would have stripped eighteen pounds off me, as the six days at Oakmont, in 1919, did? At Worcester, in the open championship and play-off of 1925, I lost twelve pounds in three days, and I wasn't much overweight when I went there. Perhaps these physical symptoms help to explain the furious toll exacted from the spirit, under the stress of tournament competition. I know that tournament golf takes a lot out of me; the photographs, before and after, sometimes rather shocking in contrast.

     Now, my career to this writing, which includes the year 1926, is divided with so extraordinary a balance as regards tournament golf and championships that it would seem there must be a good opportunity to offer something in the way of a solution of the difference between a good golfer and a good tournament golfer. In the seven lean years between 1916 and1922, inclusive, I played in eleven national championships, and did not win one. In the four years including 1923 and 1926, I played in ten national championships, winning five and finishing second three times.

     Something, then, seems to have happened, to fatten the run of what one fanciful writer termed my seven lean years. And here it seems I have worked up to a climax, without the climax--excepting a negative sort."

It is important to remember that Down the Fairway was written before Bobby Jones won the Grand Slam. But he had turned the corner in terms of his tournament play. A great golfer from the time he was a boy, Bobby had endured those seven lean years where he couldn't seem to win a major championship, despite being such a golfing prodigy. He discovered something important that put an end to those lean years. In the next article, we'll cover that.

The important thing for good players reading this; or any players reading this who have struggled in tournament play; is that tournament struggles don't point to any moral deficiency or lack of courage on your part. There is something all good tournament players must learn. And in the next article Bobby Jones talks about what that is.