Bobby Jones on Golf

by Robert Tyre Jones

  And here is another thought. Remember that the motion of the left arm is simple—straight back and straight down—and that the use of the right has to be a good bit more delicate. Would not a right-handed person be better able to perform those more delicate actions with his right hand than with his left, as he would be required to do if he were to switch over? I wrote in an earlier chapter that I thought that a golf swing was somewhat like the gait of a trotting horse in that it was not able to be directed by natural impulses; and the hand and arm that is not working on a track and has to be watched is the right. I think that I, who am very right-handed, would prefer that it be so.

  No, I do not believe that a person who is naturally right-handed would be happy playing golf left-handed, even though he might have been successful batting left-handed; there is a great difference between the batting swing and the golf stroke. But I do believe that our prejudice against the left-handed style of play is groundless. If I were just beginning the game and should find myself definitely more comfortable on one side of the ball than the other, I should remain on that side.

  10 THE INFLUENCE OF GOLF COURSE DESIGN

  In modern golf course design here in America, we have come to insist upon complete visibility from the second shot, fairways and greens well defined by bunkers or other hazards, and well-watered putting surfaces that will hold almost any kind of pitching shot; and then we spend a great deal of money in smoothing out undulating fairways, and in providing a perfect turf to assure good lies. The tendency has been to remove, as far as possible, all uncertainty from the game, to bring it closer to an exact science.

  The first effect of this has been to emphasize the importance of form. When every wayward shot suffers an immediate penalty, one realizes at once that what one needs most is a sound, reliable method that can be reproduced time and again without serious error.

  The next impression, because all greens hold well, is that a variety of strokes is not needed; because a pitch will nearly always do, our young golfer has only one shot to learn, and so becomes more proficient in its use. From tee to green, what is wanted, and all that is wanted, is mechanical precision. When a well-played shot always, or nearly always, gets its reward, it is not difficult to induce a young man to concentrate upon form and accurate striking.

  This much, of course, is excellent, because it suggests a beginning where the beginning should be made; but there should be a realization that there is something beyond. Courses of this kind, playable in only one way, day after day, do not teach a player to think or to use his imagination, to invent ways of working himself out of difficulties. Having learned to pitch, for example, when he finds that his pitches won’t stop, he doesn’t know what to do. Until he gets experience, he will not think to examine a slope to find a way to run his ball up close to the hole.

  I do believe, though, that on the whole, our American-type course provides excellent training in shotmaking; the rest can come later. I do not believe that we should set such value as we do upon good form if we habitually played on courses where the uncertainties of the game were greater.

  SECTION TWO

  PLAYING THE GAME

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  1 GOLF AS RECREATION

  2 HOW TO PRACTICE

  3 GETTING THAT CERTAIN FEEL

  4 THE VALUE OF SIMPLICITY

  5 RESOURCEFULNESS AND JUDGMENT

  6 SLOW PLAY

  7 PRACTICE SWINGS

  8 SCORING

  9 THE IMPORTANCE OF PUTTING

  Warming Up

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  1 GOLF AS RECREATION

  The golfer with a fairly good swing who never seems able to score well is a familiar figure on any course. In many respects, he is in the same boat with the tournament player who burns up the course in practice rounds, but does nothing in the actual competition. Obviously, there is a great deal more to playing golf than merely swinging the club.

  There is scarcely one golfer of the so-called average class who could not benefit from an effort to school himself in applying good sense, judgment, and a little intelligent thinking to his game; and this without reference to the mechanics of the swing. Merely by adopting measures that will help get a consistently high rate of performance from what ability he has, a surprising improvement can be made.

  The trouble with all of us, who grumble over the game and thus spoil an otherwise pleasant afternoon with congenial friends, is that we do not understand the game, nor ourselves. In this, we could take a number of lessons from the dub. For no matter how good we may be, if we should fancy that we have mastered golf to the extent that we can go out day after day and play as we please, then we are greater fools than ought to be left at large.

  A skillful golfer, who knows what he is about, can often play himself back to his game in the course of a round; but the average player, when he goes out for an afternoon, would best leave all his tinkering and theorizing behind. Too many come out eager to try some new discovery made while shaving, or lying awake in bed, and, instead of going to the practice tee to find out if the idea has any merit, they set out hopefully to beat their record for the course. It would be difficult to think of a more infallible way of spoiling what might have been an enjoyable game.

  The virtues of golf as a pastime and a means of recreation have been appropriately extolled. But no one, with more than the barest outside chance of being believed, is going to tell me, or any other golfer, that he gets any fun out of hacking around a golf course in ten or more strokes above his normal score. The ninety player does not expect to break eighty; he ought to be, and usually is, satisfied to play a game that is reasonably good for him. But when he plays a really bad round, and drags himself into the locker room, it is easy to see that he is tired and disgusted, and has done anything but enjoy himself.

  It seems to me that there are two reasonable ways in which a man may take his golf. If he has the time and inclination to do so, he may set out to give the game a proper amount of serious study and effort, with a view toward elevating himself beyond the average-golfer class; or, if he has only a very limited amount of free time, as many have, he may be content to knock around with his regular companions who play about as he does, in search of a little fun. But it will not do to mix the two, especially to hang the ambitions of the first man upon the labors of the latter.

  When we come to the all-important matter of getting real enjoyment out of the playing of the game, I think we will find that all must employ the same set of rules. To find enjoyment, we must produce a round fairly close to our usual standard. To do this with a fair degree of consistency, no matter to which class we belong, we must avoid experiment, refuse to try anything new, and play the game instead of practicing it.

  The best single piece of advice I could give any man starting out for a round of golf would be “take your time,” not in studying the ground, and lining up the shot, but in swinging the club. Strive for smoothness, strive for rhythm; but unless you are something of an expert, save “monkeying” with your hip turn, your wrist action, and the like, until you can get on a practice tee where you can miss a shot without having to play the next one out of a bunker.

  2 HOW TO PRACTICE

  Never should I knowingly discourage any man from trying to learn to swing a golf club correctly, for I think the game is well worth whatever effort one may make toward this end. But if one is not willing to take lessons and practice, he will do better to make up his mind to worry along with what he has, rather than to mess up all his rounds with misguided tinkering.

  To stand upon a tee for hours banging away mechanically and monotonously at ball after ball is certainly trying on the nerves; it also is a waste of time. It is exercise, to be sure, but it is exercise only in the sense that digging ditches and plowing fields is exercise. There can be no enjoyment in it, and from such labors, one usually goes home with a tired soul and blistered hands.

  Practice must be interesting, even absorbing, if it is to be of any use. Monotony palls, and
nothing can be more monotonous than playing over and over the same shot from the same place. I used never to practice, simply because I could never find a way to hold my attention upon what I was doing. The first dozen or so shots I would hit painstakingly and thoughtfully, and then the rest would be sent off one after the other at such a pace that soon I would be out of breath, perspiring, and wholly disgusted.

  The secret of beneficial practice is keeping a definite idea upon which to work. If you cannot think of some kink to iron out or some fault to correct, don’t go out. And if there is a kink or a fault, as soon as it has been found and cured, stop immediately and don’t take the risk of unearthing a new one or of exaggerating the cure until it becomes a blemish in itself. A man cannot do worse than to practice simply because he has nothing else to do.

  Driving practice is, to me, the very hardest, because in approximating actual play, there is no direct target at which to aim. Playing from a level tee down an ordinary fairway is the least interesting phase of golf, and practice in this department is necessarily fatiguing. I very seldom gave a great deal of time to this sort of practice. If I found a difficulty which did not yield quickly, I usually tried to relieve the burden by mixing my shots. In other words, if I drove a dozen balls or so without discovering the trouble, I would cast the driver aside and hit a few balls with a spoon or an iron before going back to the recalcitrant member. In this way, I could usually start where I left off with a zest otherwise impossible.

  I deem it worse than useless to practice with the irons from an ordinary tee or on an ordinary practice field. The iron clubs are properly for playing shots to the green, and therefore practice with them should be had with a green and a flag as the objective. There are difficulties in the way here because, on our crowded courses, a lone man playing balls to any regular green can be nothing but a nuisance to other players; also, he may be a decided pest to the greenskeeper if he practices from the fairway. But usually a time can be picked when play on the course is not heavy, and spots can be found off the fairway where the turf is sufficiently good. One might even persuade the directing authority to provide a few target areas on the practice field.

  In practicing with the irons, it is always better to move about so that the distance and angle of the shot may vary. If you remain in the same spot, even granting that the stroke and scenery don’t grow irksome, the playing of the accustomed shot will finally grow so mechanical that you may be misled into believing you have progressed beyond your actual attainment.

  The above suggestions apply mainly when there is a particular shot that needs improvement or a particular fault that needs correcting. But there are other situations that demand a kind of practice, especially when, through lack of play, a man’s game needs a little general polishing. The best way to put on these finishing touches is a nine-hole jaunt with your entire set of clubs, four or five balls, and a caddie. When you play a sour shot, you can play another ball, and you can drop and play others from any point you desire. In this way, you can obtain a greater variety of shots than you could be called upon to play in a half-dozen ordinary rounds.

  Macdonald Smith is credited with saying that he always practiced the shot he was playing best; in other words, his practicing was done to cultivate good habits, rather than to correct bad ones. His idea may have been good for Mac, but I am sure his method would not suit the average man. Golf is such a curious game and form is so fleeting that there can be no better maxim than to leave alone what is doing well enough. There can be nothing more dangerous than tampering with a club that is working well, for, sooner or later, too much attention will spoil the machinery. The club is most likely performing satisfactorily because it inspires confidence in its owner, and the more it is used, the more likely it may be to betray that confidence.

  Above all things, make your practice take an. interesting form. Go out with a definite purpose and stay with your work only so long as that purpose remains definite. If you find it relaxing, or if the purpose is achieved, go home, and give your muscles and your head a rest. Nothing can be gained by tinkering with your swing after it has been once straightened out.

  3 GETTING THAT CERTAIN FEEL

  To determine just how hard to try to hit a golf ball in order to get the best results is often a perplexing problem. Everyone knows the dangers of pressing and the troubles one can encounter when trying to hit too hard. But the shoe can rub the other way, too, and the fellow who tries to swing too easily is often just as close to disaster. Somewhere between these two extremes is the happy middle ground the golfer must tread.

  I cannot recall that I ever accomplished any really good scores or won any matches by trying to knock the cover off the ball. Good driving has been a part of all the really fine rounds I ever played. It is true that, except for those occasions when a putter goes phenomenally hot, a man must be driving well to score well. But all that is needed is ordinarily good length and a good deal of accuracy, the latter feature being by far the more important of the two.

  I got as much fun as the next man from whaling a ball as hard as I could and catching it squarely on the button. But from sad experience I learned not to try this in a round that meant anything.

  But there is the other extreme that is just as bad. Whenever one becomes too careful and begins to steer his shots, he can get into just as much trouble, and his trouble may be found a lot farther from the green than if he had taken a good, healthy swing. Easing up almost always leaves the left side in the way—there is not enough pull to get it around where it ought to be—and when the swing finds itself blocked, there is no way for it to go through cleanly and smoothly.

  Of all the times that I have struggled around the golf course, there are a few easy rounds that stand out in my memory. These are the ones I should like to play over again, and it would not take long, for there are not that many. One at Sunningdale, England, one at East Lake in Atlanta, two at Augusta, Georgia (both in one day), one at Interlachen in Minneapolis, and that’s about all. Other scores were as good, but no other rounds were as satisfying.

  Strangely, perhaps, one thing stands out about all those rounds; I had precisely the same feel on each occasion; I was conscious of swinging the club easily and yet without interruption; my left side was moving through without hindrance, yet I was making no special effort to get it out of the way; in fact, I had to make no special effort to do anything.

  Sunningdale came first. I did not recognize the symptoms, because I had never had them before. Then, the next year, we had an open tournament at East Lake. In warming up before the second round, I suddenly realized that I had the same feel I had had at Sunningdale—and it worked again. It is not unnatural that I tried to get it every time I went out on the course, but only a few times did it come.

  I think it is helpful to begin a round, or better still, to begin warming up for a round, swinging the club as easily as possible, gradually working up speed until you play yourself into a tempo that feels about right. After you have found the right rhythm for the driver, try to carry the same beat down through the other clubs. In other words, vary the selection of clubs for the fairway shots so they can be swung as nearly as possible in the same rhythm. If you are able to swing the driver easily and get a good solid contact and good direction, it is more than likely that on that particular day you will have better luck with your irons if you will take the stronger club and swing it easily also. If you find that in driving it is necessary to swing hard in order to move the left side out of the way, the chances are that the irons will be better if the more lofted clubs are chosen and swung more nearly with full force.

  No matter how “average” one’s game may be, there are always vast possibilities in this matter of finding the proper beat for a given day. It is really a sort of tuning-up process everyone can go through with profit. And always the start should be made on the low side, swinging easily at first, gradually increasing the speed until the thing begins to click. And remember, it is not length that is wanted so much as acc
uracy and consistency.

  4 THE VALUE OF SIMPLICITY

  It is quite natural for anyone writing or discoursing upon the ways and means of playing golf to devote some little attention to the way of an expert in controlling the shots. The temptation is almost irresistible to suggest how an intentional slice or hook can be brought off, and when writing of such things, the preceptor, for fear that the value of his advice will be too readily discounted, hesitates to admit that he ever, for himself, has any doubt concerning the success of such a shot. Some of us, I fear, give the impression that the difficulty of these strokes is only apparent, that they annoy us not a whit, and that we face them with quite as much assurance as the straightforward iron from the fairway.

  John Duncan Dunn has remarked that one sees at an open championship precious few of these intricate shots so blithely described. Unquestionably, this is fact, and in it is much for the ordinary player to heed.

  The straightforward shot is invariably the one to employ when anything of importance hangs on the result. When a great field starts out over the seventy-two-hole route, everyone knows that a few strokes foolishly wasted may lose a coveted prize. You may be sure that none takes any chances or employs any means of reaching the goal that has not been tried repeatedly and found reliable. Competition has no place for experimenters.

  When there is a chance of bringing off an exceptional shot, the wise competitor always considers and appraises the penalty in case of failure. Thus, on a par five hole after a long drive, the green may be so situated, and other conditions such that a long, sliced brassie shot affords the only means of getting home in two. It will not require long for the experienced eye to see the possibility; but just the knowledge that he can intentionally slice a brassie shot is not enough to induce him to attempt the shot; the success of the shot will depend entirely upon the amount of the slice and the length of the shot. The first thing to be thought of is what will be the cost of failure. If a mistake will likely leave a simple pitch for a certain 5 and a possible 4, the shot will be tried; but if the trouble to be encountered is at all severe, the safer course will always be favored.