Harvey Penick

Harvey Penick is one of my favourite teachers. He was a good player--probably good enough to have played on the tour. But, early on in his career, he saw Sam Snead hit a golf ball. He, probably wisely, thought, "I'll never beat that guy," and chose to pass up on trying to earn a living on the tour and turned to teaching. That turned out to be a decision that was good for him, and good for countless numbers of golfers.

Harvey was a humble man who loved golf and loved people--the perfect combination for a great teacher. He still got goosebumps as an old man by helping a woman get the ball airborne and be able to play with her husband. He cared as much about the duffer as he did about the many pros who sought his advice. He cared more about his students than he did about himself. He truly wanted to help golfers. It was about them, not him.

I suppose you could write a book about all the terrific things Harvey taught, and the way he taught them. He would be a great model for anyone aspiring to be a great teacher. But, to me, three things that he taught stand out.

First, was the importance of a good grip. Harvey said he could happily talk for hours about the grip. He also taught that a good swing was useless if accompanied by a faulty grip. He told his players on his college team not to worry about the player with a good swing and a bad grip. But he suggested that they had plenty to worry about when playing against a guy, or gal, with a poor grip and a bad swing. Those players had learned, by playing and practice, how to make it work.

The second thing that Harvey taught that would help so many struggling players was how to set up to the ball naturally. So many players struggle with alignment. Harvey advised us to set up to the ball like we were shaking hands with someone on the other side of the ball. How brilliant is that? When you shake hands with someone, do you face to their right or left? Are you all cock-eyed? No. You are square to them. Your chest faces right at them. What a great way to explain square alignment. I've used that analogy to help myself and others.

The third teaching of Harvey's that is absolute 24 carat gold is his teaching to "clip the tee." He would have players put a tee in the ground and practice swinging the club so that it just clipped the top of the tee. He couldn't explain why it worked so well, but clipping the tee made golfers square the clubface at impact. If every struggling golfer practised only that, they would soon find themselves hitting good golf shots.

I was struggling with my drives lately. It was really frustrating, and I concluded that it was down to my bad back that I couldn't seem to hit the ball high enough, or far enough, with the driver. The last two times out I focussed only on clipping the ball off the tee with my driver and, I'm back, baby! Suddenly my trajectory was better and I was driving it at least thirty yards farther--just by remembering Harvey's advice to "clip the tee."

There are lots of other great ideas from Harvey Penick. But I'm absolutely certain that every struggling player would improve and gain so much more pleasure in playing if he would just learn a good grip, shake hands with someone on the other side of the ball, and clip the tee. 

Thank you, Mr. Penick. You were definitely one of the best there ever was.

Clover

Even the great Bobby Jones admitted that, if you find your golf ball nestled in clover, you are essentially in the lap of the golfing gods. Clover, according to Bobby, provides the ultimate lubricant between the clubface and the ball. And, lubrication is nice for your golf swing, but very bad for your clubface.

I find that I almost never hit a good shot from clover. Generally I hit some sort of knuckle ball from that nasty stuff. I like clover in my lawn. It attracts bees. The rabbits who live under one of my hedges seem to like it. It's all good. But if you have clover on your golf course, you have trouble. Simple as that.

Yesterday, on fifteen where there is plenty of clover in the rough, I found myself in a thick patch. Somehow, I saw that in this instance I could probably get my clubface on the back of the ball without the interference of too many clover leaves and tried to take advantage of the situation by going for the green. 

I managed to hit a, almost perfect, fade right at the pin. The ball finished just short of the green in the thick rough that has been allowed to grow almost right up to the fringe. I really felt lucky to escape the clover. From the thick rough I hit a nice pitch to about three feet. Then, I missed the damned putt.

If you have clover on your course, you really should be able to ask your superintendent to mark it ground under repair, so you can drop away from it. The song says, "Roll me over in the clover..." But, trust me, rolling the golf ball over in the clover likely won't help you at all. Like all other trouble you find yourself in on the golf course, I think the best bet when you find yourself in that sweet, soft clover is not to try to hit the perfect shot. Just get it safely out.

Clover is good. But it shouldn't be allowed to flourish on the golf course.

In Praise of the Eight Iron

I don't know what's happening in your neck of the woods, but here in south eastern Ontario we've had nothing but rain since April. The end result is that the rough on our course is thick and lush, and it's a real challenge to get out of.

When it comes to thick rough, the rule of thumb provided by the Master, Bobby Jones, is the same as it is for any other trouble. When you're in it, make certain you get out of it. And the best club for the job is usually the eight iron. Consider what Sam Snead had to say about this in his book, Sam Snead's Basic Guide to Good Golf. Under the heading entitled The Recovery Shot, the Slammer wrote:

    "This is the shot you must hit to get safely out of trouble with one blow when failure may wind up costing you two or three strokes.

     You will discover that the eight iron is the best club for this situation. It will take the ball up and out while at the same time it will provide fair distance with which you can position yourself nicely for your next shot.

     Remember, you cannot expect to make the same distance out of long, heavy grass which you would be able to make from the ordinary lie. The most common mistake of the average player is in trying for too much distance on this shot instead of merely making certain that they are safely out of trouble, without losing any more strokes, while at the same time putting themselves in good position for their next shot.

     As a result, they either knock the ball into an even worse spot or one where they are just as badly off as they were before.

     It is much better, believe me, to take the penalty for the erring shot which put you in trouble and get yourself into a position where you might be able to make it up on your next shot--or at least keep yourself from having a really catastrophic hole.

     Naturally, there will be times when you can use a longer club for your recovery shot. But your best bet in most trouble situations will be the eight iron.

     To hit the recovery shot, play the ball off your right foot. The swing is an upright one, with the clubhead descending to the ball first. Once again, bear in mind that the clubhead will raise the ball. So don't try to lift the ball with hands ir arms or with 'body english.'"

The last two times out, Ken and I followed this advice to great effect. We both found that old eight iron to be just the thing for handling our U.S. Open rough. On seventeen yesterday, Ken made one of the best pars of his life using that eight iron to get himself out if jail. He had pushed his tee shot right and thought he was out of bounds. However, he found it barely in play, but nestled right down in the rough about 175 yards from the green.

Ken grabbed his eight iron and blasted the ball to about thirty yards short of the green. From there, he got it up and down for par. He was absolutely delighted. He had followed Sam's advice and turned what looked to be a bogey or worse into a par by using that eight iron instead of trying to hit a six iron onto the green from that lousy lie--which he might ordinarily have tried had he not learned the value of the eight iron in getting him out of jail. 

Try it. I know you'll like it.

Can You Peak for the U.S. Open?

Rory McIlroy decided to skip the Memorial this year, after initially pledging to be there. He has a nagging rib injury that is worrisome and he apparently felt it best to rest and prepare himself instead for a run at the U.S. Open at Erin Hills. 

However, I recently saw a tweet from Rory that suggests he was not exactly resting or recuperating during Memorial week. He was hitting balls. He apparently talked to Jack about his withdrawal, and Jack, at least publicly, appeared to have accepted his withdrawal. Not that he really had much choice. It wasn't like Jack wanted to come out against Rory. It wouldn't have been good for the squeaky clean image the PGA tour tries to portray for Jack to call out one of its stars for not living up to his commitments.

Jack did, however, make it quite clear that he, Arnie, and Gary played more than a few tournaments to which they had committed despite not being physically one hundred percent. When asked about how many they withdrew from for similar reasons, his response was a zero formed by his thumb and forefinger. Sure, it was a different time when Jack and Arnie played. But I was appalled to see Rory posting a picture of himself hitting balls after pulling out. Ultimately, I guess Rory must let his conscience be his guide. He obviously wants to arrive at  Erin Hills in top form. And if withdrawing from Jack's tournament was what he felt was the best means to that end, I guess he was prepared to risk offending the greatest Major champion of all time to do it.

Now, I'm not the least bit interested in criticizing Rory. In fact, I have been a big fan of his--at least prior to his skipping the Rio Olympics. I thought that was in very poor taste. I have been less bullish on Spieth, Day, and DJ for the same reason. I thought their reasons for skipping Rio were crap; and I still do. And I think these mega-rich, top players owe the game much more than that. I like golfers that don't withdraw from tournaments for selfish reasons. 

Again, however, my reason in writing this article is not to have a go at Rory, or Jordan, or DJ, but rather to discuss the virtue--or even the feasibility--of trying to peak for the Majors, as Rory obviously hopes to do. Golf is a strange game. And to deal with the subject of peaking for the big ones, I have to refer back to the player who did it the best ever--Bobby Jones.

Jones wrote about his Grand Slam victory and said that he was not, in fact, in his best form for any of his Grand Slam wins. During that incredible summer he said he was only at his best at a tournament in Augusta that didn't matter as far as his quest to win them all in one season is concerned. So, how did he do it?

Bobby said he believed that he simply tried harder than his fellow competitors, was willing to take more punishment--physical and psychological--and for reasons even he couldn't really understand, he simply refused to give up even when the prospect of actually winning appeared to be bleak. That was the reason he won all four of them.

So, as far as Rory being able to peak is concerned, good luck to him. If he manages to do so, he will likely be the winner. But only if he has a similar attitude to the one Bobby Jones had. He must be willing to stand up to the challenges presented by the golf course, his fellow competitors, possibly the weather, and ultimately his own psyche. Because, like every player in the field, there will come a time when Rory is tempted to quit. He has to know and understand that winners never do.

What Should You Look At?

I must admit that I don't watch very many golf instructional videos. First of all, they deal almost entirely with the golf swing, or parts thereof. And I've been there, done that. If, after fifty years of hitting golf balls, I still have to figure out how to do it, I probably have no business considering myself any sort of golfer; even a poor one.

And yet, these videos seem to still flourish. And the consumer of them cannot just be people just taking up the game, because I'm told that the numbers of new golfers out there are not increasing astronomically these days. There still seems to be a demand out there for swing instruction; even among long-time players. The search for the perfect golf swing, like the Holy Grail, seems to continue, and likely always will.

The other day, as I watched videos, I was surprised to see that one of the popular newer methods had a video on what you should be looking at when you hit the ball. I kid you not. Apparently, there are golfers out there wondering what they should be looking at when they are trying to hit the ball. If true, I'm glad for their sake that they are golfers and not carpenters, because they'd have seriously damaged and deformed thumbs if they were trying to hammer nails instead of hitting golf balls. 

Only in golf could such a question arise. Would a batter, in baseball, ask what to look at when trying to hit a pitch? Would a tennis player wonder what to look at when attempting to hit a backhand? Perhaps, but I find that extremely doubtful. But this is just another indication of how mixed up golfers can get. 

This particular video about what to look at comes, I gathered, as a result of the assertion that the flat point, or bottom, of the professional's swing is four inches past the ball. That may be interesting information to know, if it's true. But I've somehow managed to get by so far without knowing it. And I hope to hell I don't start thinking about that the next time I tee it up. Quite frankly, I've got enough things I'm trying not to think about as I'm hitting a shot as it is. This might be the thing that finally convinces me to just hang it up. Information overload.

The rule of thumb in golf, as in life, is that you should ideally be looking at the object you intend to hit. That's why I've never really asked, or been asked, what I should be looking at when I'm hitting a golf ball. It's a dumb question. If it's the ball you're intending to hit, I'm willing to bet my shady reputation on the fact that it is the ball you should be looking at. And, if the question really troubles you, and requires more clarification, it is probably best to look at the part of the ball you intend to strike. If you do that, you'll likely be fine. However, if you need to be told that, I suggest you consider taking up fishing instead of golf.

The only video I've seen that was dumber than this one was the one where the teacher advised us to hit balls with a basketball between our knees. That was the "piece de resistance" as they apparently say in Paris. Teachers get big bucks for coming up with this stuff. I guess I just don't think outside the box enough to be a golf teacher.

Getting back to what the video said you should be looking at; I must confess that I never got there. I decided to move on to another one that promised to teach me how to get more lag in my swing before that video was finished. I've always wanted more lag. But, I hope the reknowned teacher said it was the ball. Because, if he didn't, I've been doing it all wrong for fifty years. 

Bobby Jones Reflects

Bobby Jones quit competitive golf at the ripe old age of twenty eight. He had pretty much established himself as the greatest golfer of all time by then, finishing it off with an exclamation point by winning the Grand Slam. At 28, he'd won 13 Majors. 

Never having considered turning professional, it was time for Bobby to settle down and earn himself a living. But, not surprisingly, Bobby did reflect on his decision to retire so young. He spoke of this subject in his book, Golf is my Game:

    "There is a school of Oriental philosophy, I am told, which holds that the aim of life should be the perfection of personality or character, and that sufferings, joys, and achievements mean nothing except as they influence the development of this personality or character. I hope the analogy will not appear too ridiculous, but it has been thinking along such a line that has uncovered the only real regret I have ever had about quitting competitive golf when I was only twenty-eight years of age.

     I have never been sorry that I did not try for a fifth Open or a sixth Amateur, for after adding one of either, there would always be the question of another. What I have regretted at times was that I did not keep on until I might have achieved, in my own estimation at least, the status of 'Compleat Golfer', to use Isaak Walton's spelling.

     Whatever lack others may have seen in me, the one I felt most was the absolute inability to continue smoothly and with authority to wrap up a championship after I had won command of it. The failing cost me the eventual winning of more than one, and made several others look a lot more fortuitous than they should have... I have no means of accounting for this sort of thing. It was not, as some have said, the result of over-confidence or of a desire for 'coasting'. Both explanations would appear reasonable, but I think either is more charitable than I deserve.

     As nearly as I can analyze my own state of mind, up to the point of becoming aware that I was the was the winner I had been possessed of a singleness of purpose driven by an intense desire to win, which had of itself focused my concentration upon playing golf. Up to that point there had only been the determination to wring the best figures possible out of my game.

     Having reached a stage where I suddenly knew that I should certainly win with any sort of ordinary finish, I became fearful of making myself look ridiculous by kicking the thing away. At this point I think I began to be conscious of my swing and began trying to make certain of avoiding a disastrous mistake. I was no longer playing the shots for definite objectives, but was rather trying to keep away from the hazardous places...

     I have often wondered whether or not I could have overcome this weakness had I played longer in competitive golf. I think perhaps I could have, had I learned to play safe by merely choosing a safe objective and playing as definitely for it as I had for the flag in driving into the lead. 

     I like to think that I could have done this, because then I would have scored within reasonable distance of some of our modern geniuses."

So, besides gaining more insight into the honesty and humility of Bobby Jones, by reading this we are reminded that it is all relative. The greatest player of his generation--if not all time--recognized that he had weaknesses. And, he wasn't afraid to admit to them. Furthermore, he reminds us that, no matter how good a shotmaker you become, the most important thing in golf is what is going on between your ears. Golf is, as Carl the Grinder likes to say, the ultimate mind game. 

Eventually, the time comes to quit worrying about your damned backswing and start worrying about how well you are thinking. And this is why I love reading Bobby Jones books. No one has been able to describe the complexities of playing the game better. NO ONE!

Even a Crippled Cat

I turned sixty this year and was hoping it would be a good one--you know; sixty is the new forty and all that. Instead, I'm getting increasingly crippled with my back and neck, and have had sciatica to boot for the last month or so. I can hardly walk. It wasn't what I'd hoped for, but I'm still able to play at least.

Other than a seventy at Salt Creek this week--Salt Creek is a par 65, so that 70 sounds better than it was--I've been unable to break eighty for about three weeks. Carl the Grinder has beaten me like a drum in our matches every time out but one this year. He's also out-driving me by forty yards--and he's 73. I'm getting pretty damned discouraged.

But yesterday, after Carl beat me six and five, and Radar had beaten me three and two, I was feeling about as low as I could be. But then, on the last hole, which in this case was sixteen because it had been a shotgun start, I hit it to about seven feet with an eight iron from 120 yards, and then made the putt for birdie. For just a brief moment I felt like a golfer. I told the boys that if Kathryn asked me how I played, I'd just tell her I birdied the last hole. Of course, she didn't ask. 

Today I played with Ken in a nice Scotch mist. I quite like playing in a soft drizzle. Once again, I couldn't piddle a drop. I was happy to make bogeys most of the day, and even did a TC Chen double-hit on seven, eventually making an eight on the par four. I was having back spasms like crazy; couldn't hit it two hundred yards with the driver, and was really starting to think I was done like a dinner as far as golf was concerned.

Then, on eighteen, after hitting about four inches behind the ball and leaving my tee shot on the upslope of the Valley of Sin on the front right of the green, I did it again. Eighteen is a par three, with a green that has a ridge running through the middle of it that slopes away to the back. It was a back pin.

As I stood over my pitch shot of about 90 feet, I said to Ken, "A real golfer would hit a shot here that lands on top of the ridge, takes one hop and bites, letting the ball trickle to the pin." He nodded in agreement. And, I'll be damned if I didn't step up to the ball with my 58 degree wedge and hit the exact shot I described. The ball finished three feet below the hole. And I even made the putt. 

So, two days in a row, after playing like a bum, I finished like a golfer. Either the golfing gods are telling me not to give up quite yet, or it's just proof that even a crippled cat can catch the odd mouse. Either way, I guess the old boy still has a bit of life left in him. I can't wait to play tomorrow. But, I hear it's supposed to pour all day.