Part 2
Far—far as Arcturus—be it from us to dissipate the mist of theory that envelops the so-called royal and undeniably ancient game, or to diminish by one the methods of its madness. The more the merrier, as Noah remarked when he led the way to the Ark. The fairway is wide, and we had as soon knock a ball through it in one style as another; variety spices the journey, and wards off monotony. It is only when, approaching the green, we require accuracy in direction, that we dismiss theory and resort to the primitive expedient of striking the ball with the club-face at right angles to the line o’ flight—in other words, returning the club-face to the position it was in when the ball was addressed. The trick is so simple, when the mind is disburdened of all other consideration, that we are a little ashamed of the inevitable result; it is so much more interesting to try to reach the pin by the most complicated method, involving a nice consideration of stance and grip, division of labor between the hands, pronation, concentration, pausation, and what not. If every stroke in golf were reduced to its lowest terms, what would the pundits do for an audience?
WHY.
Why, when the sun is gold, The weather fine, The air (this phrase is old) Like Gascon wine;—
Why, when the leaves are red, And yellow, too, And when (as has been said) The skies are blue;—
Why, when all things promote One’s peace and joy— A joy that is (to quote) Without alloy;—
Why, when a man’s well off, Happy and gay, _Why_ must he go play golf And spoil his day?
“A DEEP STUDENT OF THE GAME.”
We have found on the links at Manchester, Vt., opportunity for uncommonly deep study. It took us three (ladder-steps) to get out of one pit. The caddie retrieved the ball.
* * * * *
“Romberg’s Sign,” says a medical writer, indicates locomotor ataxia; if, when the eyes are closed, the body sways several inches, we have a positive Romberg. On the other hand, if the eyes are open when the body sways, we have the average golfer. In either case, when the condition is advanced, “the body is likely to topple over.”
Pourquoi, indeed? He goeth forth at noon-time, chattering, laughing, overflowing with goodnature. He cometh in at eventide, sore, sullen, and silent, except for an occasional curse. Man that is born of woman is full of foolishness.
CONCERNING SPIN.
“There is no ball that will run more straightly to the hole than an ordinary putt,” deposes one pundit, meaning a ball to which no spin has been imparted. On the o. h., a physicist tells us that the cut ball will hold the tenor of its way more evenly than the uncut ball. The reason, we conjecture, is that the deflecting material on a green exhausts itself in opposing the spin on the ball, and so has little chance to interfere with its forward motion. One may ascertain in practice what line a ball will take, curved or straight, with any given spin, and he may then hew to that line in full confidence that the spin will keep it in its course, whether the shot be a pitch or a putt.
“THE PSYCHOLOGY OF GOLF.”
We were smoking a pipe in the laboratory of Dr. Sike, the eminent student of the soul and less eminent golfer. All about us were queer looking instruments for measuring the mental processes of the so-called human race. We indicated one contraption and asked its use.
“That,” said Dr. Sike, “is the well-known Poggendorff illusion.”
“Never drove into Pogg. What’s his club?”
“The Styx Country Club, if any.”
“And what was his illusion, that the flag moves after you shoot?”
“You are nearer the mark than you think,” said the Doctor; and taking up a pencil he drew two perpendicular lines (as represented in Fig. 1). Then he added the oblique line, and pushed the paper across the table. “Continue that line across the ditch,” he instructed.
We did so, and the result is indicated by the dark line in Fig. 2; the real line is the dotted one. The illusion is corrected by looking down the oblique line.
Dr. Sike lit an introspective cigarette.
“Suppose that a fairway,” said he. “If a ditch or road cuts the line of play at that slant, the player should aim a bit to the left.”
“Unless the ditch runs northeast-southwest. Then he should hold to the right.”
“Exactly so.”
We poked the ashes in our pipe with a deep contemplative forefinger, and remarked that the illusion would not seriously affect the play of the average golfer, but that it might mean the loss of a match to an accurate approacher like Mr. Chick Evans or ourself.
“But hold on,” we second-thoughted. “The player is not, as in this test, looking down the ditch, but down the line that crosses it. Wouldn’t that correct the illusion?”
“A slight illusion would remain, if the player established his line of play by looking along the ground, and if the ditch were wide enough to disclose two lines.”
“Otherwise the Poggendorff person contributed nothing of permanent value to the psychology of golf.”
“Exactly so,” said Dr. Sike, and plunged into a revery. Presently he emerged. “Still,” said he, “the majority of shots would fly to the right.”
“Because of the cosmic tendency to slice?”
“Exactly so. Will you pass the matches?”
“How is it,” we asked Dr. Sike, as we passed the matches, “that after one has taken the line of his putt and transferred his attention to the ball, he still can view the line with ‘that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude’?”
“Eye-pull,” said the Doctor, lighting a laconic cigarette.
“What an alibi!” we whatted. “A gentleman who blows a five-foot putt has only to remark to his partner: ‘Sorry. My eye-pull isn’t on straight to-day.’”
“Exactly so,” said Dr. Sike. “To some persons, like myself, the line of the putt is clearly defined, as a darker green in the grass; to others the line is not present, but these locate the target just as accurately. All this is quite apart from the visual imagery referred to in the Wordsworth poem. The eye——”
What followed was highly technical, and we regret that our memory failed to imprison the Doctor’s exact words; but we gathered that the eye is a mawxstrawnry organ, which can do everything except talk. The technical explanation would, of course, be a-b-c to a reader like Max Behr, who looked in “A Critique of Pure Reason” for a definition of amateurism, and is now working on the Hegelian Hypothesis of Professionalism; but we fear the average reader would be puzzled by such phrases as “accommodation pull,” “convergence pull,” and “binocular disparity.” Therefore, to put it as simply as possible, we will say that when a man takes the line of his putt the muscles of his eyes set themselves, his head and neck muscles co-ordinate, and there is probably co-ordination in the semi-circular canals. The eye-pull once established, it remains after attention is transferred to the ball—how long we cannot say, but long enough to serve the purpose of all except those extremely deliberate persons who fall asleep over their putts. We should advise, therefore, putting as rapidly as is consistent with an unhurried stroke.
“Strange to say,” mused Dr. Sike, “although innumerable experiments in eye-pull have been made and recorded in laboratories, there has been no attempt to relate them to golf, which is the proper study of mankind.”
“But science is coming round,” said we. “The last two or three years have brought a great deal of speculation and research.”
“Yes, yes,” yessed the Doctor. “Even the watchers of the skies are beginning to admit that Canopus, Aldebaran, and the Pleiad Seven are only exaggerations of a golf ball, which is the symbol of the universe.”
* * * * *
“Now, if we imagine amateurism as a great sea, and in the midst of it a little island....”—Mr. Behr, at the annual meeting.
Why, then, on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, at any country club, we can define an island. An island is a professional entirely surrounded by dubs.
* * * * *
“Did you ever take up the game?” we asked Arthur Whiting, the musician. “I took it up and put it down,” said he, and mentioned two shots that were memorable. The first was made with a driver, the pet club of the lady who was showing him how to wield it. The head broke off and wound itself around the lady’s neck. “And your second shot?” we inquired. “Ah,” said he, “the second shot—” An interruption at this point put the game out of his mind. It was undoubtedly a remarkable second shot.
SUNDAY SCHOOL FOR GOLFERS.
Sir: One member remarked that his wife had agreed to play with him in the afternoon if he would go to church in the morning. I’ve agreed to play with my wife in the afternoon if she doesn’t make me go to church in the morning. Which bargain is best?
J. M. P.
* * * * *
Spring to the golfer is something more than Spring.
* * * * *
Spring or no spring, we shall open the season to-day.
The driver, son!
The Compleat Golfer;
OR, THE IDLE MAN’S RECREATION.
[_A discourse betwixt a Golfer and one that would have knowledge of the game._]
INTRODUCTORY.
GOLFATOR. A fine morning, sir, as fresh as when this world was young. I mark you have a sack of golfing tools upon your back. Are you for the links thus early?
SCHOLAR. Ay, sir, for I am resolved to learn this game, of which you spake so bravely yester-night, and rose betimes to buy these tools; and I do entreat you to instruct me in the art of striking the ball, that I may be well launched upon my adventure.
GOLF. Well, sir, as for that I am at your pleasure, yet I am loath to launch any man upon so great a sea of troubles, but would persuade him rather to forego the hazard.
SCHOL. Nay, I am not to be persuaded, but am impatient to be at the business, and to strike a ball that it may fly to a great distance.
GOLF. Marry, sir, consider well, there is yet time to withdraw. Have you a wife?
SCHOL. Not I, nor do I contemplate such folly.
GOLF. I am rejoiced, for what is your loss is some maid’s gain. A woman that has a golfer for husband might as profitably be wed to a sailor, or to an adventurer in polar lands. Haply you have a business that will suffer.
SCHOL. Not I, again. My worldly goods are all in stocks and bonds, and I have nought on my mind of greater import than the learning of this ingenious game. Let us then to the links, and be at it.
GOLF. In good season, Scholar. I pledge you I am in no haste to watch your antics, and since you are but of a middle age there is great store of time before you. Come, let us sit beneath this tree, in the branches of which a robin is chirping, and we will speak further of the adventure to which you are committed.
First, you are to know that the chief end of golf, as I view it, is not to strike the ball with greater skill than your adversary, but to give strength to your character, and, if it be needed, to reform it. Patience and a good temper, courtesy and a pleasant speech, these be marks of the true golfer, yet are they virtues that one may put on as a mask, whereas I would have you wear them honestly.
SCHOL. Master, I am all ears, like an ass, and I entreat you to fill them.
GOLF. Clap then a hand to one of them, that my counsel may not escape you. You are to reflect, Scholar, that in tennis, or in a passage at foils, or in any other game of great movement, there is not the space of a moment in which to desire ill luck to your adversary, but this golf is a game of so great deliberation, that whilst you address the ball I may pray fervently that you top or founder it, or that you miss it entirely, and this I hold to be no true spirit.
SCHOL. Would you beseech heaven that your adversary strike the ball with greater cunning than yourself?
GOLF. Marry, sir, I would hope that he struck it fairly, and that I struck it fairly in my turn, and that good fortune might attend us both.
SCHOL. Sir, I will endeavor to give such current to my thought. Shall we not seek the links now? I am impatient to have knowledge of this great game.
GOLF. The which you will presently be as impatient to be rid of, and seeking to dispose of this sack of tools for a tenth of their cost. Marry, sir, when I reflect on the tribulations in store for you I could weep, as a mother regards her female babe, and laments the ills that it is heir to. Here is as fine a morning as ever broke upon this world, with a sweet wind from the south, and birds calling from the greening boughs; yet must you mar your day and mine. But since there is no help for it, let us to your undoing.
THE FIRST HOLE.
SCHOL. Well, Master, here am I upon the tee. How shall I strike the ball?
GOLF. As you will. For this first stroke I would have you assail the ball in any fashion that may please you; for it will be a great time hence when you please yourself again, before which day you shall be slave to this dogma and that, and a great grief to your friends.
SCHOL. Shall I stand in this fashion?
GOLF. Nay, bestride not the ball like the colossus which was at Rhodes, for in such stiff and ungraceful posture you cannot put hip and shoulder into the blow. There be many strange golfers that spread themselves in this fashion, and play with elbows, to the great detriment of the landscape, so that when I walk over the links I could wish for blinders, that horses wear. Let your feet be more neighborly, so, and have at it.
SCHOL. The ball is gone, yet I saw it not.
GOLF. Well hit, Scholar; as true a ball as ever left wood, and as far as the most.
SCHOL. Why, sir, it was nought. I did but swing the club, and felt not the blow.
GOLF. A brave shot, Scholar, which you shall have sweet remembrance of these many months to come. Marry, sir, if you take my advice you will rest content, and sell these tools of wood and iron, to your great peace of mind and the continued esteem of such friends as now you have.
SCHOL. Sir, I take not your meaning. Let us to the ball, that I may strike it again, for my impatience is not to be described.
GOLF. Come, then; for compared with the task of staying you, it were a profitable employ to discourse to the deaf, or to show pictures to the blind. A sparrow, new come from the southland, sings for a mate in yonder maple tree, yet I warrant you hear him not. There are patches of springing green in the brown carpet of the links, yet this pleasing tapestry serves but as background for your ball. Here it lies, well up. Take now this other club of wood, the which is shod with brass, and whilst you fall upon the ball I do desire to look another way.
SCHOL. Saw you the ball, Master?
GOLF. Nay, I did avert mine eyes the while you smote it; but this scarred turf will bear witness to the stroke. You are to observe that the ball was pulled and foundered, and will be close at hand, methinks in yonder copse. Let us to it.
SCHOL. What must I do, now, with the ball?
GOLF. Cast it upon the turf and make further trial. And do you clap an eye on the ball the while you strike it, or fix your gaze on yonder flag; either, as it please you, so long as your head be at rest. Sir, I shall ever marvel why a golfer must cock his head up at every stroke, like a robin questing worms, for since the greater number of players top the ball, or fling it in any direction save the right one, you would conceive they would avoid to look up as long as might be, that they be spared sight of their woeful want of skill. Marry, sir, if I played as the majority I would close mine eyes with each stroke, and ask to be led as a blind man to the ball.
SCHOL. Sir, I will endeavor to abide by your counsel, and I pray you attend me. Now, sir!... Maledictions! Another ill stroke, yet I looked upon the ball.
GOLF. Nay, my good Scholar, your head did come up with the jerk of the hanged ere the ball was struck. So little of concentration hath the average man that he cannot bring his mind to a focus for a few seconds; wherefore he avoids to read a serious book, or to attend a serious play, or to give ear to music which is other than a tinkle. I shall give you counsel in plenty, and to some small part of it you will give attention, and thus you may curtail your apprenticeship a year; but the larger part of what I shall tell you will be wasted on these sparrows that flit about us, and for a great while you will go from bad to worse, as the saying is, pursuing this notion and another, and reading many books upon the matter, the which are writ by players that preach the one thing and practise the other, until there remain no fresh folly that you may commit. Truly, I would not pass through the travail which is before you for a great sum of money.
SCHOL. Sir, it is but a dismal prospect that you offer, yet am I resolved at all pains to learn this noble game; therefore I beg you to unlock the storehouse of your knowledge and set me in the right path.
GOLF. That I will do, and gladly. But do you step aside a moment, for hither come two golfers that would play this hole.... Good morning, sirs. A fine, sweet day, is it not?
FIRST PLAYER. Sir, I should have made that last hole in five, but that a worm-cast marred my putt.
GOLF. A grievous accident, and all too common. Will you play by us?
FIRST PLAYER. With pleasure, sir. Yesterday I did make this hole in four, and Saturday a week I was so fortunate as to get a three.
GOLF. Say, rather, so skillful; and, sir, I am enraptured to learn of your cunning and would desire a much longer tale of it. Good morning, gentlemen.... And there, my honest Scholar, you may perceive yourself in the sorrowful days that are to come, a burden and a grief to your friends, to whom you must relate the ill luck that robbed you of a four at this hole, and the conspiracies of nature that prevented a five at that; for it is ever want of luck and not want of skill that addeth strokes to a score, and many a summer’s day that promised fair has been marred by a cuppy lie or ruined utterly by a worm-cast. Marry, sir, I had as lief listen to a play actor recounting his greatness as to a man besotted by this game of golf.
SCHOL. Shall I make further trial with this club?
GOLF. Nay, sir, you have done enough mischief with that tool. Put it in the sack and let us to a putting-green; for whoso would walk must begin by creeping, and much may be made of a golfer that is caught young.
THE SECOND HOLE.
SCHOLAR. Well, Good Master, I have belabored the ball to no purpose and I entreat you, sir, to counsel me in the way of striking it, else I shall come to no understanding of the art.
GOLFATOR. You are to know, Scholar, that concerning the Drive there is nought that is Rosicrucian, nor is it a thing to be approached with incantations, though there be many that give it an air of mystery and make of it a business of much weight and complication. Nor do we find among the wiseacres of the game more agreement than was brought to the building of the great tower in Babel, as is shown in the vast number of theories, the one contradicting the others, and all of them as owlish as you please.
SCHOL. I am rejoiced, Master, to learn this thing, for I had esteemed the proper striking of a ball to be a most difficult art.
GOLF. The difficulty resides in yourself, sir, and not in the mechanics of the stroke, which are most plain and simple; therefore I have deemed it wise to prepare you against the thousand follies that you shall commit, so that when you have made the round of them you shall not sink into discouragement, but take up the matter afresh with a mind purged of vanities and errors.
SCHOL. But, Master, might not one begin at this point, without entering upon the follies of which you speak?
GOLF. Yes, if one and twenty had the wisdom of two score years, but nature hath decreed it otherwise, and there be many things of great simplicity that are to be come by only through experience. Let us take the matter of looking at the ball. I was reading of late a writing that contained much sound sense, and it was declared that this golf is the only game played with a ball in which the player looks upon the ball instead of the direction he would have it fly. Now, sir, this is but half a truth. It is true that the skillful player sees the ball, as a tennis player sees it, yet his mind is upon the line of its flight, which the club’s head must travel; whereas the unskillful player has his mind upon the ball, which charms him as a serpent is fabled to charm a bird; so that to tell a novice to keep his eye upon the ball is but mischievous counsel, and I pray you avoid this thing.
SCHOL. Yet, Master, you did advise me, but a little time ago, to clap an eye upon it.
GOLF. Marry, sir, that was to divert you from cocking up your head like a little bird, before ever the ball was struck. Take now your driver, and we will consider the matter of swinging it.
THE THIRD HOLE.
SCHOLAR. Well, Master, I have pursued this ball unto the second green, smiting it some dozen times, and not once fairly; yet you would have me believe that it is but a simple matter.
GOLFATOR. Ay, sir, as simple as the boiling of an egg; yet is there no trick so simple but care must be brought to the turning of it; and you are to know that the stroke in golf and the boiling of an egg are the same in this, that to time it rightly is nine-tenths of the matter.
SCHOL. It may be, sir, that I am ill fitted to this game, and shall never come to skill in it, for it seemeth of great difficulty, despite your fair words.
GOLF. Well, Scholar, to speak truth, your antics have been most fantastical, and what skill you may come to no man can say; therefore if you are for withdrawing I do again heartily counsel you so to do, and to give your leisure to a more profitable employ, as the study of mares’ nests or the collecting of phœnix eggs; but if you are resolved to have knowledge of this ingenious game I am still at your service.
SCHOL. Then, sir, I entreat you to teach me this stroke, that you say is so simple.
GOLF. Why, sir, you have but to do certain things and to avoid doing certain other things and the trick is learned. The things you are to do are to stand easily, neither stiffly nor limply; to sole the club at a right angle to the line of the ball’s flight; to take the club back smoothly, seeing to it that the wrists start the motion and the arms follow, and that the wrists turn inward during or at the height of the swing; and to strike downward with decision, timing the blow to the thousandth of a second, and letting the arms draw the body around in a natural fashion. And the things you are not to do are these: you must not let the club’s head flop at the height of the swing, nor stiffen the muscles at any time, nor move your head, nor heave your shoulders like a ship in a sea, nor hop upon your left great toe as a ballet dancer, nor fall upon the ball, nor fall backward, nor pound the ball as if it were a peg for a tent, nor cock up your head as a tomtit, nor fall into other errors of which I shall speak later. These divers matters kept in mind, the ball will fly straight, and to a great distance.
SCHOL. On my word, Master, it were a rare feat to hold so many things in mind at the one moment.