The King and Moe

The King, Arnold Palmer, believed that all that was required to become proficient at the game of golf was two things. The first was a sound grip.

The second requirement was a "one piece" takeaway for the first foot of the backswing. Arnie felt that it was almost impossible to screw things up if those two factors existed. The one-piece takeaway was also a key for Jack Nicklaus and Sam Snead, among many others.

For those who don't know what a one-piece takeaway is, it involves pushing the club straight back from the ball with the left hand, for a right-handed player. The right hand is simply along for the ride and the wrists don't begin to break and lift the club until the club has travelled at least a foot and the left side begins to move and stretch.

Arnie, unlike Jack or the Slammer, also recommended a relatively short, or compact, swing. He felt that there was no need to swing back any farther than is comfortable, the full shoulder turn being something you must either do naturally, or not worry about. He proved this in a test using a five iron, where he made a full swing, and then an abbreviated swing, the difference in distance being only about ten yards. The reward from the abbreviated swing was greater accuracy.

When you keep Arnie's teaching in mind and consider the famous ballstriker, Moe Norman's swing, you see that Moe incorporated Arnie's swing rules and was one of the straighest and most accurate hitters the game has ever seen. Moe realized early on that he was not a long hitter. His game had to be built around accuracy.

Everyone wants to hit the ball long. It's a great feeling. But most of us are either long hitters, or we're not. Long hitting is really something you either have the ability to do, or you don't. It's the result of rhythm, timing, strength, flexibility, and, most important, the ability to hit the ball in the sweet spot with a square clubface. All these things we can improve with practice and exercise. But most of us don't have the physical tools of a Dustin Johnson. So we need to focus on square hitting and accuracy, like Moe.

There are lots of people who have analyzed Moe's swing. They note the wide stance. They note the extended arms when he addressed the ball. They talk about his grip, and his tremendous lateral move through the ball. You can get lessons on how to swing it like Moe. And, perhaps these "Natural Golf" systems help struggling golfers. 

Moe was a ballstriking genius. And, getting back to what Arnie had to say about the two prerequisites for good golf, consider what Moe did. For grip, he said he watched carpenters. He watched tennis players. And he realized that, for hiim at least. the club was best held more naturally, in the palms, not the fingers. That's why he used over-sized grips and a ten finger grip. With that grip, he struck the ball like a carpenter striking a nail. That clubface wasn't turning or twisting through impact. It was driving straight down the target line for, what Moe suggested was, twenty two inches.

When Moe addressed the ball, he had his club about a foot behind it. Remember what Arnie said about taking the club back twelve inches in one piece without breaking the wrists? Moe took care of that with his address position. He explained that he was already into his turn at address. By setting up this way he eliminated taking the club back outside the line, and he eliminated picking the club up too quickly, a problem that plagues many amateurs.

So someone learning the game might want to consider trying a ten finger grip, with thicker grips so that the club is held more in the palms. The one benefit of this is that it feels more natural to do this. And they might want to consider addressing the ball like Moe did, with the club a foot or so behind the ball. It would eliminate accidentally moving the ball at address, if nothing else. And it would ensure that magic one-piece takeaway that Arnie wanted to see.

Moe Norman was definitely a genius. And we can learn a great deal from understanding how and why he did things in his swing. And I think the most important thing is to understand how he struck the ball. After all, the swing is just a means to an end; the end being striking the ball correctly. There are no style points. So, how did Moe want to strike the ball?

Moe wanted his clubface square to the target and moving along the target line for as long as possible before and especially after impact. He wanted to be able to brush the ball off the grass. If he took a divot at all, he wanted it to be a perfect bacon strip, not a hole you could use to bury a small mammal.

Moe wanted to feel as though he could actually strike another ball twenty two inches in front of his ball. He practised that kind of extension through the ball and was convinced that this was what made him the straighest hitter we've ever seen.

Arguably the greatest ballstriker we've ever seen was Byron Nelson. He was a completely different body type than Moe, and his swing bore little resemblance to Moe's. But, guess what? He struck the ball the same way Moe did. He kept his clubface square and moving down the target line for a foot. He also employed a strong lateral move through the ball to accomplish this. 

At the end of the day, there are as many ways to swing the club as there are golfers. But the only way to hit a straight shot is for the clubface to strike the ball squarely facing the target and moving straight down the target line. And whatever means you use to accomplish that is up to you. In the end, it isn't about the swing. It's all about the strike.

It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

I've had Levi's number so far this season. Now that's nothing to brag about, because I had several trips south this winter while Levi shovelled snow. But we had an interesting match yesterday that I thought was worth writing about.

We played match play and Levi asked for five strokes. I was quite happy to oblige, since our match the day before, having given him four, ended on the twelfth hole. It was a rout. And, let's face it, no one enjoys a match that isn't close. Unfortunately, I again started out winning the first three holes and thought, "Here we go again."

Fortunately, Levi rallied and I ended up just one up after ten. But on number ten two things happened that turned things around. First, my back went from just hurting, to spasming. And secondly, I showed Levi what I was doing to play while half crippled. I was taking the club back to only about waist high, like Moe Norman. Then I was finishing my swing in the follow-through at between knee and waist high. Essentially, I was hitting straight down the target line until both arms were fully extended through the ball and then just stopping. 

The fact that I had just birdied nine, hitting it to less than a foot from 170 yards, seemed to pique Levi's interest. So, he tried fully extending down the target line until his arms were fully extended and just allowing momentum to take him to the finish instead of consciously turning his shoulders through impact and coming over the top and across the ball as he had been doing. The change was dramatic. He started driving it much straighter. He was hitting better irons into the greens. If it wasn't for some les-than-stellar chipping and putting on his part, I'd have been up Schitz Creek. 

At the thirteenth, Levi almost holed out for an ace and went one up. We were having a match, and the knot had definitely gone out of Levi's face. He was smelling blood. Unfortunately for Levi, however, he skulled a chip on fifteen to lose the hole and get us back to all square. Then he drove it behind some trees on the left of seventeen after I had first driven it right and had tree troubles of my own.

Levi tried to hit it through the trees directly at the green and failed, leaving himself a fifty yard pitch to the green. Trees are not, contrary to some people's opinion, ninety percent air. I, on the other hand, had been faced with a shot of just over 200 yards which required about a thirty yard cut to narrowly miss a thick cedar tree of my own. I was at the base of another tree and made a swing something like young Sergio did when he was chasing down Tiger at that Major way back when. I even walked through the swing like he did; but I didn't close my eyes and I certainly wasn't doing any running or jumping to follow the shot like El Nino. 

I couldn't see the shot finish, but knew I'd cut it enough to get around the tree and have it heading towards the green. As it turned out, I ended up about ten yards short and right of the green. I'd managed to over-cut it, which impressed me because the ball had been above my feet in what was a hook lie. Levi, who was across the fairway when I hit the shot, seemed to be not nearly as thrilled as I was. But I guess he had other things on his mind--like getting his shot through the trees and finally managing to beat my sorry ass.

In any event, I managed to get it up and down for a par and Levi didn't; giving me a one up lead with one to play. Levi was not a happy camper. We both left our approaches short of the green on the par three eighteenth and Levi chipped his to about six feet. I managed to pitch mine to about three feet and Levi conceded the match.

Now there are two morals to this rather long and drawn-out story in my mind. Well, perhaps there are three things worth considering. Firstly, there is nothing more fun that hitting a good recovery shot at the right time; especially in match play. Secondly, good chipping and pitching drives your opponent crazy in match play. And finally, as Sam Snead said, "You should never concede the putt that beats you."

Levi just waved at his six footer on eighteen, after conceding the match. Had he holed that six footer, I might have easily missed my three footer. The result might have just as easily been a halved match. You should never give up in this game. As a wise man once said,"It ain't over 'til it's over."

How Bobby Jones Learned the Game

Bobby Jones played golf in a different era, with different equipment, on courses far less manicured. But he played the same game, with the same goal; namely to get the ball from the teeing ground into the hole in the fewest strokes possible. And he was a genius at doing just that. 

I was reading his book, Golf is my Game, again today and was once again struck by what he had to say at the beginning of the second chapter, entitled Striking the Ball. In this modern age, with all the technology available to students and teachers, I fear we are often in danger of getting lost in trying to improve launch angles and spin rates, and actually lose sight of what the game is really all about; namely making a score. With this technology, including improved equipment and course agronomy, you would think the average player would be getting better. But he apparently isn't. So, what's missing?

Consider what the Master wrote:

    "When I was playing competitive golf, I had, with some golf writers at least, a reputation for being a regular player. When I scored sixty-six in the third round of the Southern Open at East Lake in 1927, Kerr Petrie wrote for the New York Herald Tribune:

     

     'They wound up the Mechanical Man of Golf yesterday and sent him clicking around the East Lake course.'

     I remember the round quite well, and it was as nearly perfect as any I ever played; the only real mistake being a tee shot pulled into some woods on the fourteenth hole. That 'Mechanical Man' stuff, though, did make me laugh. How I wished it could have been made to fit!

     I have always said that I won golf tournaments because I tried harder than anyone else and was willing to take more punishment than the others. More immodestly, I will say now that I think a large factor in my winning was a greater resourcefulness in coping with unusual situations and in recovering from or retrieving mistakes.

     Jim Barnes said to me once, when as a youngster I was in the midst of my lean years as a golfer: 'Bob, you can't always be playing well when it counts. You'll never win golf tournaments until you learn to score when you're playing badly.'

     I think this is what I learned to do best of all. The most acute, and yet the most satisfying recollections I have are of the tournaments won by triumphs over my own mistakes and by crucial strokes played with imagination and precision when anything ordinary would not have sufficed. And I was able to do this because I learned so well what a golf ball could be made to do and how it had to be struck to make it perform as I wanted it to.

     Of course, I learned these things by playing. I kept hammering at that pesky ball until I found a way to make it behave. When I hit it one way and it didn't go right, I'd try hitting it another way. I didn't try different swings. I probably didn't know there were such things, or even a swing at all for that matter.

     I watched other players, too, and when one of them made a shot that I especially admired, I would begin to try to produce the same result. But I didn't observe how they took the club back or measure the 'body-turn' they used. I watched the clubhead strike the ball and saw how the ball responded. Then I tried to make my ball do the same thing."

And there you have it. Arguably the greatest player the game has ever seen learned golf by playing it. He didn't learn the game on a driving range, or in a booth where a machine gave him measurements of  launch angle, and spin rate, and swing speed. He played, and observed, and learned how a golf ball reacted when struck different ways from different lies. Kind of a novel idea, don't you think? Learn golf by playing it. Who would've thunk it?

Carl the Chipper

It was opening day today at our course today and it rained all night which made it cartpath only for those of us needing to ride. The course was soaked and the greens were covered in a thick dew and adorned with worms when we set out, making putting a bit difficult. But the course is in great shape.

I played with Carl the Grumbler and Levi; and Carl declined to play for the usual two bucks, saying this was his first round of the year and he'd probably shoot 85. Levi was willing to play for the big money wanting only four shots. So, it was game on.

Every round you either learn something new; or relearn something you'd forgotten. And playing with Carl I once again learned the merits of chipping the ball along the ground wherever possible. Bobby Jones believed spinning shots and pitches were best only to be used when there was an obstacle you needed to pitch over to get to the flag. He wasn't a believer in using spin, or getting unnecessarily fancy.

Carl is the same way. He is absolutely deadly around the greens, running the ball up to the pin using a variety of clubs; and today was no exception. He hit, I don't know how many, chips stone dead today. Unfortunately, however, his long game was off starting out, and he was pushing his putts, so he went out in 46; which is about as high as I've ever seen him shoot. 

On the back, Carl made seven pars to go along with a double and a bogey for 39. That's right; he shot 85 on the nose. Perhaps he should have said he intended to shoot 72 instead. I went out in 39 and came home in 38. Nothing to write home about, but I did try chipping the ball with a variety of different clubs around the greens instead of using my wedge and trying to get fancy. And it worked pretty damned well. I just missed a few short putts.

So, I learned two things today. First, don't pitch the ball, or try to spin it with a wedge around the greens, unless you have to. Leave the fancy shots to Phil. If you have to pick a flavour for your shots around the greens, as Harvey Penick wrote, "Make it vanilla." Secondly, it won't be long before I'll have to worry about Carl taking my money. And, I guess I learned a third thing. I shouldn't give up my day job.

Bobby Jones and Byron Nelson Had to Learn the Same Lesson

Two of the greatest players we've ever seen both had the same problem and managed to fix it. They were Bobby Jones and Byron Nelson. What was the problem?

They both realized, by reviewing their rounds, that they had the tendency to let up, or lose concentration, on easy-looking shots. Byron had this realization prior to his incredible season of 1945, when he won eleven tournaments in a row, and 18 in total. He improved his scoring average by one and a half shots per round, finishing the season with an unheard of scoring average of 68.33. In 1945 Byron was on a mission. He wanted to set some records to be remembered by and he wanted to earn enough to buy his Texas ranch so he could retire from the grind of the tour. He accomplished both those goals with a huge exclamation point, setting a record that will surely never be touched. And he did this by finding a way to play every shot, including the easy-looking ones, for all it was worth.

Bobby Jones went seven years before he finally managed to win a Major. Of course, he started playing in Majors at age 14, so it isn't as bad as it sounds. But it was only when he learned to play one shot at a time that he started winning. In the next seven years he won over 60 percent of the Majors he entered. 

Both players were extraordinary players, the like of which we may never see again. But both, despite their prodigious talent, had to learn the same lesson every golfer determined to play his best must learn. You must play one shot at a time and give every shot, no matter how simple, your best effort. And, if you think that's easy to do, just try it sometime. 

Bobby Jones believed that the fun in golf was playing your hardest, be it for a two dollar Nassau, or a Major championship. By throwing yourself whole-heartedly into the game, he was certain that you get the most benefit from it. Playing that way gives you a reprieve, at least for four hours, from any troubles or worries you might have; because concentrating on your golf gives you no time to think about work. It's all-consuming. The other benefit is an important psychological one. Whether you play well or poorly, at least at the end of the round you have the satisfaction of knowing you did the best you could with what you had to work with that day. And that is all anyone can be expected to do.

And playing hard doesn't mean you can't enjoy the walk and the company. It just means you have to mean business when it's your turn to play. I don't know about you, but I doubt I've ever managed to play like that; giving every shot my full attention and effort. But hope springs eternal. All you can do is try.

I'm Going to Use My Swing

Most amateurs wish they could play with their practice swing. We tend to think that our practice swing is superior to the disjointed lurch that often appears when we are faced with actually hitting the ball. Bobby Jones said that our practice swing may not, in fact, be as good as we might think it is--but at least it tends to be smoother and more rhythmic--and more natural.

If you are a compulsive tinkerer, like me, you might wonder just what is "your swing." If so, I have discovered that my natural swing is the swing I make when I close my eyes and swing. When you close your eyes and swing, you can really feel your swing, and you find your natural rhythm. Your natural swing is also, according to Bobby Jones, the swing you would use when just swinging at a piece of clover, or a broken tee on the ground. You just swing at it without being worried about the result. 

My first round in Canada this year was at Timber Ridge, near Brighton. I started the day trying to swing it like Jack; and I was actually hitting some pretty good shots. In fact, I went out in 39, which was pretty fair considering the fact that I had three-putted at least three holes, including the first hole where I had a reasonable look at birdie and then promptly three-whacked it. Funny how we like to see three-putting as some sort of aberration. The old, "I would have played better if I hadn't putted badly" excuse; as though somehow bad putting doesn't, or shouldn't, count when assessing your ability. 

Anyway, I was playing with Steve and we joined up with John and Bruce. Bruce played from the tips. The rest of us decided--quite sensibly in my opinion--to play from the whites. Bruce turned out to be a pretty good player, who could really move it out there. He very quickly established the fact that he could easily play from the tips. After a few holes, he also informed me that I had no business playing from the whites "with that swing." 

After nine holes swinging using my best imitation of Jack, I failed to clear the hazard with my drive on number ten and hacked my way to a double bogey six. It's funny how a bad hole can make your back ache more. So, I decided there and then to revert to using "my swing." I informed Steve, who responded, "Already? It's not the seventeenth yet." Steve can't understand why I seem to start every round using some new swing I've cooked up while laying in my bed the night before. He doesn't have tinkeritis, so he doesn't know how this particular mental illness can affect you.

On number twelve I also decided to play from the tips with Bruce. And, using "my swing" I hit the prettiest 22 degree Cleveland wood you ever saw. Okay, it might not have been the prettiest shot you've ever seen, but it was pretty damned good. 

I finished the round from the back tees and acquitted myself quite nicely, thank you very much. Once again, I learned my lesson about trying to hit it like Jack, or Freddie, or Henrik, instead of just stepping up and hitting the damned ball with my own swing. It's a lesson I can seem to never really learn. But I went out the following day and, guess what? I tried to hit my first tee shot like Henrik! It turned into a snap hook and I quickly reverted to my swing and stayed with it for the rest of the round. And I even managed to go another round yesterday without trying anything new. I'd like to say I played perfectly, but as a certain psychologist once wrote, "Golf is not a game of perfect."

Our course finally opens on Friday and I'll be playing with Carl the Grumbler. And, come hell or high water, I'm going to use my swing. If I do; and I play hard and well; I just might take Carl's money.

Bobby Jones on Confidence

Bobby Jones wrote about confidence. In his mind there two sorts of confidence; one of which that is indespensible and helps you play better; and the other that is dangerous, and just might make things worse if you have too much of it. In view of Sergio's recent victory at Augusta and Spieth's rather disastrous finish after speaking very confidently to the media prior to, and during, the Masters championship, it might be a good idea to consider what the Master himself had to say. Bobby wrote, in his book Bobby Jones on Golf:

    "Every golfer has a favourite club--a battered old spoon or a mashie with a crooked shaft--that he would not exchange for double its weight in gold. He has confidence in this club and in his ability to use it; and in actuality, he does play it better than any other. It isn't all imagination--he doesn't merely think he can play it better--he can really do so because he has confidence in it and swings it easily, freely, and rhythmically.

     The better player has this same feeling of confidence, but instead of trusting one of his clubs, he trusts them all, except perhaps one. He has confidence in his swing. He is content to trust himself to take his time and hit the ball. Such an attitude is indespensible to first-class golf...

     There is one kind of confidence that everyone must have in abundance; when he stands up to the ball ready to make a decisive stroke, he must know he can make it. He must not be afraid to swing, afraid to pivot, afraid to hit; there must be a good swing with plenty of confidence to let it loose.

     The other kind of confidence is a different thing, and a dangerous one. In a way, it has something to do with the player's opinion of his ability to play the shots, but it works in an entirely different way. Of this kind of confidence, we must have only enough to make us feel as we step upon the tee with John Doe: 'Well, John, you're pretty good, but I think if I play hard and well, I can just about beat you.' It must be enough to overcome actual fear or to rout an inferiority complex, but it must not be sufficient to produce a careless, overconfident attitude."

So, we must have enough confidence in our ability to hit a shot that we are able to swing the club freely and without, as Bobby called it, "the gravel of uncertainty." If we don't think we can hit a shot, we are probably correct. And we must have enough confidence in our ability to beat Joe Blow, if we try hard and play well. But we must never let ourselves become overconfident.