Playing With the Lead

We saw DJ lose a big lead this week. No doubt it was painful for him. But going into the final round with a big lead is no picnic. It sometimes can make you feel like you've got everything to lose and nothing to gain. It's a head trip. Or, for most of us, it certainly can be.

DJ's loss was no reflection upon his abilities as a golfer. Let's face it, he's a great player who will no doubt win again, and win often. He's a tremendous talent. This week it just got away on him. It happens to the best of them.

Consider Bobby Jones. In his first Major victory, he went into the last round at Inwood, Long Island with a three shot lead over Bobby Cruikshank. In his book, Down the Fairway, he wrote about it:

    "It was then that I learned what a devilish thing it is to be setting the pace. At the luncheon intermission I figured that another 73 would win for me, or even a 74, and probably a 75. And I made the fatal mistake of playing for a certain figure that was not Old Man Par. What I should have done, of course, was to set my sights on par and shoot for that as best I could and shut out of my mind Bobby Cruikshank and Jock Hutchinson and the rest of them. I admit I was thinking about Bobby Cruikshank, who was starting behind me. I heard that he was the only one with a real chance to catch me.

     I started badly and was out in 39, two strokes over par. But I had never been over 35 coming in, and I wasn't much worried. When I holed a six-yard putt for a burdie 3 on the tenth, and after a oar on the next three holes got a birdie 4 on the long fourteenth, I felt I was safe. I had a bit of luch getting a par 3 on the tricky fifteenth, and then, on three holes of 4-4-4 on which I had not used more than twelve strokes in any previous round, I finished feebly with 5-5-6, chucking away four strokes to par, and coming as near as possible to chucking away my chance for the championship.

     The strain of setting the pace simply got me, I suppose. You have to figure on that, as any other hazard... I must have looked pretty bad when I walked off the green because when O.B. came up to shake hands with me I could see him blink before he said:

     'Bob, I think you're champion. Cruikshank will never catch you.'

     Then I said what was in my heart and had been there longer than I like to admit:

     'Well, I didn't finish like a champion. I finished like a yellow dog.'"

As it turned out, Cruikshank did catch Bobby and they had to play off for the championship. He had surrendered his three shot lead after all with that terrible finish. But Bobby went out and beat Cruikshank in the playoff to win his first Major, capping the win off with a decisive two iron to the final hole.

Bobby Jones understood the strain of leading a golf tournament. He considered it to be a hazard. That's why it is so common to see the leader on the final day fail to win. It should be nice to have the lead starting the final round. But it's a burden. As I said earlier, you can feel like you have everything to lose, rather than to win. It happens. And I'm certain DJ will be back. Sure, he's got some more scar tissue. But that won't stop him.

Who is the Greatest of All Time?

People have always been unable to resist the urge to compare their golfing heroes with the heroes of old. Today it is common to hear Tiger Woods referrred to as the G.O.A.T. The greatest golfer of all time. And one can certainly make the case that he was.

I started playing in the Nicklaus era and was often inclined to argue in his favour considering his incredible record, especially in the Majors. My father took up the game when Ben Hogan was in his prime. He told me about watching Hogan negotiate his way around Augusta National in the Masters tournament and how amazing his shots were  A good friend of mine thinks Arnie was the best he's ever seen.

One day, we may see Jordan Spieth, or Justin Thomas throwing their hat in the ring as one of the greatest of all time. But, if that happens, it won't be Jordan, or Justin, arguing their case. Their fans will be doing it.

Another golfer who deserves to be part of the discussion when it comes to the greatest of all time is my golfing hero, Bobby Jones. Bobby wrote about this tendency for fans to view the players of their era as the greatest in his book, Golf is my Game. He wrote:

    "The one question put to me most often is: Were the golfers of my day as good as those of the present time?

     There can be no question more impossible to answer. Yet if golfers insist upon speculation on this topic, there is no reason why they should not have the privilege. And since it seems to command so much interest, perhaps I may join in the discussion. 

     In 1927, when I won the British Open at St. Andrews, one of the old-time professionals, described as 'the grand old man of Scottish golf', was quoted in the newspaper as follows:

         'I knew and played with Tom Morris, and he was every bit as good as Jones. Young Tom had to        

     play with a gutty ball, and you could not make a mistake and get away with it. St. Andrews then 

     had whins up to your head and the fairways were half the width that they are now. This rubber-   

     cored ball we have now only requires a tap and it runs a mile.'

     So you see, the controversy is not new. Young Tom had died some thirty years before I was born. Yet there is, of course, much substance in the above quotation; that is, if one must pursue the controversy..."

When Bobby wrote this, Ben Hogan was the guy hailed as the new great champion of his day. And comparisons were being made between Jones and Hogan. Hogan said to Jones, when there was some controversy about this in the media and Bobby had assured him that he had not tried to project himself into this controversy, "I have always felt and said that a man who can be a champion in one era could be a champion in any other era because he has what it takes to reach the top."

About that comment from Ben Hogan, Bobby went on to write:

    "That was good enough for me, so we left it there. I think we must agree that all a man can do is beat the people who are around at the same time he is. He cannot win from those who came before any more than he can from those who may come afterwards. It is grossly unfair to anyone who takes pride in the record he is able to compile that he must see it compared to those of other players who have been competing against entirely different people under wholly different conditions."

That sounds pretty good to me. But just don't forget Byron Nelson if you want to talk about the greatest players of all time. I bet eleven wins in a row and eighteen in a season won't ever be accomplished again. But then, someone will argue, "that was in 1945." And so it goes.

     

     

A Hurtin' Wind

Steve's game was really good up until about a week ago. Now, according to Ken, it's turned into a country and western song.

The song goes:

   "Honey, you've got me playin' into a hurtin' wind; and all my shots are pullin'."

Suddenly, Steve just can't piddle a drop. Nothing is working. From the driver to the putter, he just can't seem to figure anything out. He's tried to go back to basics; checking his grip, his ball position, his alignment... Nothing seems to help. 

Golf can be that way. It's a game of peaks and valleys. And right now, Steve is really suffering. Yesterday, he was looking to me for an answer. And that might be akin to the blind leading the blind. So, I offered him the only really sound advice I could think of. It came from Harry Vardon, and it was the best advice Bobby Jones ever heard. What was it? Vardon said: "No matter what happens, keep on hitting it." Sometimes, that's all you can do. 

Golf is a game played one shot at a time, like the drunks. If you don't give up; and you just keep on hitting it; things will eventually come out in the wash. But, right now, Steve's a hurtin' unit.

Bobby Jones on the Sole Purpose of the Golf Swing

For Bobby Jones, it really was all about the strike. Consider what he wrote in his book Golf is my Game on the subject of striking the ball: 

    "Golf is played by striking the ball with the head of the club. The objective of the player is not to swing the club in a specified manner, nor to execute a series of complicated movements in a prescribed sequence, nor to look pretty while he is doing it, but primarily and essentially to strike the ball with head of the club so that the ball will perform according to his wishes."

What a great quote. If golfers, including myself, could only keep this simple truth in mind we would save ourselves so much grief. Golf is about striking the ball, not swinging the club. Bobby went on to write:

    "No one can play golf until he knows the many ways in which a golf ball can be expected to respond when it is struck in different ways. If you think that all this should be obvious, please believe me when I assure you that I have seen many really good players attempt shots they should have known were impossible."

The simple fact is that many, if not most, golfers don't understand the basics in terms of striking the golf ball. I have encountered many golfers who have played the game for years, and even taken lessons, who did not even know how to aim the clubface, let alone what the clubface needed to be doing through impact to produce a straight shot, a fade, or a draw. They might have learned how to grip the club, and the basics about setting up to the ball and swinging the club. But they didn't know the rules about striking the ball. That includes some really good players. That's why Bobby could talk about having seen good players attempt impossible shots. Though good players, who by trial and error had learned how to hit a golf ball and make it behave, they didn't understand the "science" of the strike. 

Though he never actually heard his teacher, Stewart Maiden, ever actually talk about the golf swing, Bobby Jones did agree to engage in discussions about the swing and attempt to describe as best he could what he considered to be his manner of swinging the club. In his book Golf is my Game, Bobby devoted a chapter to the downswing. But even then, he reminded us of what was really important when describing the golf swing. To begin the chapter, he wrote:

    "The swinging of the golf club back from the ball is undertaken for the sole purpose of getting the player to a proper position for striking. So the one influence most likely to assure the satisfactory progression of the swing is the clearly visualized contact between club and ball still at the forefront of the player's mind. Just as the backswing should not begin until this picture is adequately established, so the movement should continue until there results an awareness that the player has become capable of striking in the intended manner.

     I stress this point, and intend to continue to do so, because I know that the unrelenting effort to play golf in this way can do more for a player than anything else he can possibly do. When every move of the swing is dominated by the determination to strike the ball in a definite fashion, the complicated sequence of movements must acquire purpose and unity attainable in no other way."

Consider, if you will, what Bobby Jones is saying here. The sole purpose of the golf swing is to strike the golf ball. That might seem obvious if you aren't a golfer. But, let's face it, when you listen to golf instruction, or ask golfers what they are thinking about before, during, and even after they swing the golf club, the strike is often the last thing you hear about.

Golfers are taught to concentrate on things like keeping their left arm straight, making a good shoulder turn, or shifting their weight to the right foot on the backswing and back to the left foot on the downswing. They are taught to maintain their spine angle, or keep the flex in their knees, or keep their left heel on the ground, or to lift their left heel on the backswing. And while all of these things and more might be correct, and possibly helpful, the most helpful thing is the one thing so obvious, and yet all too often overlooked. And what is that? To strike the damned ball--and to strike it in the proper way in order to produce the ball flight you are looking for.

If you don't know how a golf ball must be struck in order to produce the various shots, I highly recommend that you get a copy of Bobby's book Golf is my Game, and review the second chapter. Bobby said that the information in that chapter "will describe the most useful learning you will ever acquire as a golfer."  He believed that reading that chapter could transform your game and give you knowledge "that will help you in the playing of every golf shot you make for the rest of your life."  Bobby said: "This knowledge can make you a better golfer overnight."

If you haven't got a copy if Golf is my Game, I have covered that information in great detail in my featured post on my blogsite, entitled "The Wisdom of Bobby Jones: Striking the Ball." I invite you to check it out.

Spiros Goes Old School

Spiros and I had a fun day yesterday. He took up golf later in life in his late forties. He was a soccer player and only turned to golf when his legs told him his soccer playing days were over. He has his own swing, which is a pronounced over-the-top move where he aims at least forty five degrees right of his target, makes a big turn, and hits it. When he sets up, he looks like he has his back to the target. It's really quite disconcerting to see, especially if you happen to be standing a little to the front and right of him. You're quite sure he's trying to hit it right at you. But he hits it surprisingly well, considering.  

Spiros had never played with the old equipment that I cut my teeth on. He had never hit forged blades, or woods that were actually made out of wood. So I decided to give him a set of Wilson Staff irons and woods that I had in my collection. They probably date from around the early seventies. The irons, I picked up at a thrift shop, but the woods were ones that both my father and I had used. They were top of the line clubs in their day.

Spiro looked at those irons and thought he'd never be able to hit them. But yesterday he gave them a try after hitting a couple of shots with them the day before. He loved them. He was hitting solid, straight shots with a two iron that looked like a damned butter knife. He was chipping and pitching like a demon with the old pitching wedge. And when he hit one out of the sweet spot, he'd let out a moan, and his face would light up. He said they felt like butter when he hit them well. And he hit a lot of them really well.

Those thin, small-headed blades were giving him such great feedback. If he hit it on the sweet spot, he knew right away because he felt nothing. If he got it out on the toe, or clanked one near the heel, he knew it right away as well. He started showing me the mark on the clubface where he had struck the ball and admitted that he was swinging more easily in order to make sure he hit it on the sweet spot, something he had not really worried about doing with his clubs. It was obvious that he was getting feedback he'd never had using his "game improvement" irons.

Now Spiros has no intention of playing the old blades full time. At least he doesn't right now. But it was obvious that he had really enjoyed the challenge of hitting them and he loved the feel of hitting one out of the center of the clubface. He has also hopefully realized from this exercise just how important it is to find the sweet spot. Hopefully, when and if he goes back to his old, newer clubs, he will take as much care to make sure he hits it out of the center of the bat. There's nothing that feels better than that--especially if you're hitting forged blades.

A Little Less Ambition

Bobby Jones had to have been an old soul. He seems to me, when reading his books, to have been wise beyond his years. He wrote Down the Fairway at the ripe old age of twenty five. Now it is true that by then he had already been competing at the highest level for eleven years and had plenty of battle scars, but his wisdom and insight is amazing for such a young man; speaking as an old fart who still seems to be learning about this game.

One of the things I love to do, when I'm not playing golf, is to grab one of Bobby's books and just flip it open to any page and see what pearl of wisdom I can find. I'm rarely disappointed. In this case, I turned to Bobby's opening comments in Down the Fairway, in his chapter entitled "Miscellaneous Shots--and Trouble." If I wanted to, I couldn't imagine a better way to sum up the problems and issues facing the average golfer when he finds himself in trouble on the golf course. Consider what Bobby wrote:

    "As a general proposition I fancy it might be laid down that the main object of a trouble shot in golf is to get out of trouble. This conclusion is not so obvious as at first it may appear, especially in the case of the average golfer, or worse. In that case, the object, or it might be better called the perilous ambition, is not only to get out of trouble but also to achieve a shot the equivalent of that which might have been made had the element of trouble not been injected.

     He wants to get there, anyhow.

     Now this ambition is in a way laudable, and at times it is grimly necessary to execute a shot which will minimize the punishment for getting in trouble. But it should always be borne in mind that, if a brilliant recovery be needed, it is far more feasible to make this brilliant effort after getting the ball back into a thoroughly playable position.

     Now, I can speak with considerable feeling, if not with authority, on this point. The greatest improvement in my game in the last five years has been a growing disposition for calculating a difficult situation, and an increasing distaste for the taking of reckless chances. In the old days, furious with myself for the missed shot that had incurred the trouble, I was quite ready without further consideration to go up to the ball and put my back into a shot designed without delay to take up the slack. Now, I figure the chances a bit--sometimes."

Is it just me, or is this not, in a nutshell, one of the biggest problems faced by average golfers, or worse? They simply don't use their heads; and they lack sufficient self-control and patience when faced with trouble. They too often, as my old father liked to say, let one bad shot beget another.

Yesterday Levi, Justin and I were enjoying a really good round--for us. On number eight, I was either even par, or one under, and Justin was about the same. Levi was struggling a bit to keep up, but he was only a few shots back. Levi, as has been happening too often on eight this year for him, pulled his tee shot through the tree guarding the left off the tee, and narrowly missed going in the pond.

Finding himself safe, but in pretty thick rough, Levi hauled out a hybrid and took an almighty swipe at the ball. He almost missed it altogether and duffed it straight left into the hazard. He was disgusted. He had narrowly escaped going in the pond off the tee; but then, by being overly ambitious, ended up there anyway. We talked about it afterwards and he admitted that, from that thick lie, he wasn't getting anywhere near the green anyway. He agreed that he should have just taken his medecine and hit a "Sammy." 

I had read a book by Sam Snead where he recommended the eight iron as the ideal club to use to extricate yourself from the rough. And we've tried it this year with great success. That's why we call it a "Sammy." The eight iron seems to give you enough loft to get out of thick rough and still gives you some good distance. An eight iron, in this case, would have easily got Levi within 120 yards of the green on this par five, had he elected to use it. Instead, he made double or worse.

Levi's is just the first example that came to mind to highlight what Bobby Jones was talking about. I've got many similar stories where I was the one trying for too much when I found myself jn trouble. We see this same scenario played out every time we play; and too often in our own game. A little less ambition, when getting out of trouble, is probably one of the best recommendations that could ever be made to help the average player. And it's something that was key in helping Bobby Jones get to the next level and finally begin winning the big ones. 

Bobby Jones and Humility

When Bobby Jones and O.B. Keeler co-authored the wonderful book, Down the Fairway, Bobby had no idea that he was to go on to even grander things in the game of golf and do the unthinkable, winning the Grand Slam. But, even by then, Bobby had become a believer in fate; the notion that, somehow, the results of golf tournaments at least were in the cards before the first ball was even struck.

Bobby wrote about what he called "The Biggest Year," as I mentioned, not realizing that he was fated to have an even bigger one before it was time for him to step back from competing in national championships. The year was 1926. Bobby wrote:

    "Golf is a very queer game. I started the year 1926 with one glorious licking and closed it with another. And it was the biggest golf year I'll ever have (or so Bobby thought at the time). Walter Hagen gave me the first drubbing, and of all the workmanlike washings-up I have experienced, this was far and away the most complete. He was national professional champion; I was national amateur champion; we liked to play against each other; and a match was arranged for the late winter season in Florida; a 72-hole affair, the first half at the Whitfield Estates Country Club at Sarasota, where I was spending the winter, and the second half a week later at Walter's course at Pasadena. Walter was simply too good for me... Walter played the most invincible match golf in those two days I have ever seen, let alone confronted. And I may add that I can get along very comfortably if I never confront any more like it."

Bobby Jones, as anyone who knows me--or has spent any time perusing my scribblings-- can attest, is my golfing hero. To me, he was the ultimate golfer in terms of playing, understanding, and communicating to others how to play the game and get the most out if it. And I think the way Bobby chose to begin the chapter about what was, at least up until then, his greatest season speaks volumes about the man and his understanding of the game. It wasn't all about him. 

Sometimes you hear it suggested that great champions must be selfish, or self-absorbed, to a certain degree in order to become great champions. Bobby Jones proves that, at least in his case, this couldn't be further from the truth. Consider again how he began the chapter about his biggest year. He began it by reminding us that he had been well and truly beaten by Walter Hagen, crediting Hagen with having played the "most invincible match golf" he had ever seen. Instead of starting the chapter by talking about his own terrific play, Bobby admitted that he was given the drumming of a lifetime by Walter Hagen. That is humility. 

I was intending to delve further into this notion of fate and golf, as presented by Bobby Jones, but it's late and I think it's worth just considering how humble Bobby Jones was. Humility is a wonderful thing.