Part 4
Those persons who feel sorry for Chick Evans because he can’t putt may like to know that Vardon and Ray, interviewed when they returned to England, agreed that “Evans with his new club is the best putter in the United States.”
* * * * *
Paying club dues for the three months beginning January first used to be our notion of zero in entertainment. We are obliged to lower the temperature twenty degrees since the war tax was added to the dues.
* * * * *
One of the things in golf most difficult to explain is “the feel of the clubhead.” We have tried to convey an idea of the sensation to persons who have solicited an opinion, but without success. Perhaps this will explain it: Take a full swing with the mashie for a chip shot of ten or twenty yards. Practise that for a while, and you will begin to discover that there is something at the end of the shaft.
* * * * *
The young woman with the golf club who appears on magazine covers or in railway folders is shown, as often as not, holding the implement in an exceedingly awkward manner. Artists of yesteryear were better observers. A reproduction of a painting, “The Golf Players,” by Pieter de Hooch (1630-1677), represents, for one item, a child holding a club as a Vardon of that period might have grasped it.
* * * * *
Mr. Topping is a well known American golfer, and the mention of his name has evoked many smiles and decrepit jests. It is not generally known, however, that he is related on the paternal side to the Hookers and on the other wing to the Slicers, two other celebrated clans whose lineage details occupy many pages in the _Almanac de Golfa_.
* * * * *
After prayerful consideration the Western Golf Association has ruled that as long as a golfer depends on the literary merits of his articles to sell them, he will retain his amateur standing. One could almost whittle a wheeze out of that.
THE DUB.
When Frederick was a little lad He practised the pianner, And practised it, we need not add, In ladhood’s usual manner.
His progress was more slow than snail’s, Of skill came no increase; But Frederick would not practise scales— He wished to “play a piece.”
At golf Fred cannot use his hands, He has no sense of rhythm; And yet he thinks he understands— You cannot argue with’m.
Dub will remain his middle name Till death shall him release. He doesn’t care to LEARN the game— He wants to “play a piece.”
* * * * *
When the Preacher observed that there was no new thing under the sun, he articulated a mouthful, as a contemporary slangily remarked of Demosthenes. A Denver man relates in the _Golfer’s Magazine_ that he keeps his eye off the ball, instead of on it, from the drive to the putt. Unlike the feat which we recently noticed on an oratorio programme, “Rest in the Ford,” this can be done. Several years ago we demonstrated to our own content that it was possible to use a mashie accurately while scrutinizing the flag, and during one season we putted while glaring at the hole; but in the longer shots we preferred more freedom of the neck—ours not being of the giraffe type—and so maintained an “eyes front” attitude. About that time Mr. Charles Clarke, professional to the Rothersham Club at York, published his “Common Sense Golf,” which contained this admonition:
“And most important of all, for putts of six feet and under, _look at the hole and not at the ball_. I know it is a very unorthodox thing to say, and it will require no little courage at first to get used to the method. But the difficulty exists only in the imagination; the lie of your ball is as nearly as possible perfect, and all the preliminary adjustments have been made. A back-swing of a few inches, and a short, firm tap is all that is required. Personally I have improved my holing out enormously since adopting this method, and there are days when I can scarcely miss a two-yard putt.”
Our hypothesis, which we arrived at independently of the Rothersham pro (as Adams located the planet Neptune “unbeknownst” to Leverrier) was challenged by Grantland Rice and Jerome Travers; and so we arranged a test with Mr. Rice. But a heavy shower interposed, and we agreed to try the thing on a new dog—Mr. Ring Lardner, who up to that time had not trifled with a golfing implement. He was required to putt eighteen holes while looking at the hole, and to repeat while looking at the ball. The result was slightly in favor of the latter method, but this was fairly attributable to increased familiarity with the putter. Personally (_sic_), we can putt as well one way as the other, and all that we ever maintained for the eye-on-hole style was that it would improve the work of one who putted badly. If a man putts well by any method, let him keep the even tenor of his way, nor heed the rumble of a distant drum.
* * * * *
Golf is advised for training camps by the War department, to counteract the tension of intensive training. The beneficial effect lies in the mental rest during the swing; from the moment the ball is addressed until it is struck the mind is an absolute blank. The poorer the player, the more strokes he takes, and the greater the mental rest.
WE’VE TRIED IT ON A GOLF BALL, BUT IT DOESN’T WORK.
Sir: In the Rotarian for this month: “Like a rubber ball, the Spirit of Rotary will not be cowed by any one.” Did you ever try to cow a rubber ball?
R. C. S.
* * * * *
The Empory Gazette admits that something is to be said for golf; that “a man can play the game without being hooted and abused as though he was a wife beater.” But the same can be said for every other game except baseball.
* * * * *
Isn’t the weather provokingly delightful? Here we have a compilation of verse, a novel, and a few smaller matters planned out, and the golfing weather persists out of reason.
HAVING THEIR SLICE OUT, MEBBE.
[From a Rockford contemp.]
GOLF SEASON CLOSES.
H. S. Wortham underwent a minor operation at Rockford hospital yesterday morning.
L. D. Ray underwent a minor operation at Rockford hospital Sunday.
* * * * *
Time to put away your golf tools. Navigation on the Yukon river has closed.
* * * * *
Economically war is much more wasteful than golf. In war a waster bullet is a total loss, but when you lose a golf ball somebody else finds it, and eventually your initials are worn off it. By the way, has the question been discussed, and settled, whether it is good sportsmanship to stamp your initials on a ball? We never stamped more than a dozen, and none of these, when lost, was ever returned to the shop.
FRENZIED JOHN.
He worked as hard at golf As any man alive; For nothing went the time he spent— He always sliced his drive.
He held himself like this, He held himself like that; By hook and crook he tried to look And see where he was at.
He changed his stance and grip— It mattered not at all; The same old thing with every swing, He sliced the bally ball.
He put his right foot forward, He put his right foot back; But still his game remained the same— He sliced at every crack.
He told it to the lockers, He told it in the hall, Till more and more it grew a bore To hear he sliced the ball.
He read the books of Vardon, Of Taylor, Braid, and all; But every shot went straight to pot— He sliced the cursed ball.
He went to Doctor Vardon, And got the best advice; He whaled the pill till he was ill, Nor ever lost his slice.
Doc took him out to pasture, And showed him what to do, And while the Doc was there to knock He hit them fairly true.
But after Doc departed The stuff was off again: He shot it on to Helngon, And nearly went insane.
He tried to hit it easy, But still his trouble grew; He tried, like Jesse Guilford, To split the ball in two.
No matter how he whacked it, He sliced into the tall. “O Lord, how long!” his frenzied song; “How must I hit the ball?”
Again to Old Doc Vardon He tottered for advice. Said Doc: “We’ll have to operate, And cut away that slice.”
He overlapped with Vardon, He underlapped with Vaile— And sliced into the garden Of Mr. Ezra Hale.
He trained with Doctor Hammond— “The Essence of the Matter”— Old Simpson, Bart., he knew by heart, And yet his score grew fatter.
He put his right hand under, He put his right hand up, But still the ball would hunt the tall, Nor ever reach the cup.
He put his heels together, He put his heels apart. With anguished brow he wondered how He’d ever learn the art.
He laid the club-face forward, He laid the club-face back. His face grew thin, his chest fell in, His mind began to crack.
(Note: _This poem was never finished by Mr. Taylor._ Ed.)
* * * * *
Mr. Pradt of Wausau, Wis., writes to us: “One day last summer I found my ball, after a fine approach, lying in a hole on the back of a toad. Would you hold that the ball was teed up?” We should hold, off hand, that it was toad up.
STYMIED.
Sir: This is the situation at a summer resort course in Wisconsin:
Chorus of Young Ladies: “Oh, is that the professional?”
Caddie: “Yes, but he’s married.”
J. G. L.
* * * * *
Did you happen to see this wheeze in a recent issue of _London Punch_:
“In New York a club has been started exclusively for golfers. The others insisted on it.”
* * * * *
The headline, “Finds a Husband on Golf Links,” reminds us of the lady who observed sagely: “There is one good thing about golf. You always know where your husband is.”
* * * * *
Young Mr. Ouimet’s feat of holing out in one iron shot contains a helpful hint for the novice. When the hole is only 243 yards away take a midiron. A driver might put you over the green.
OVERHEARD AT A SMALL-TOWN BALL GAME.
Umpire: “Boy, that’s certainly some tear you gave your pants when you slid.”
Casey (colored): “Shuah is. Mighty near havin’ to call this game off on ’counta darkness.”
WHIT.
THE GOLFER.
“The only man who can play a good game of golf is he who has no brains.”—ANDREW LANG.
Like Man With Hoe he leans upon his club, And gazes groundward with a vacant air; A wretched, brainless, golf-besotted dub— A brother to the Hatter and the Hare.
Ah, what to him the “swing of Pleiades” Whose mind is fixed on swinging on the pill, Whose only mental processes are these: “I must grip tight, and keep my head quite still.”
Ah, what to him the pull of Jupiter— This muddy-headed clod, this witless wight— Who fears that _he_ may “pull,” or, commoner, Slice off into the bushes on the right.
For aught he knows whom golf hath so besot, The sky has fall’n, or is about to fall; For heaven and earth, and time and space are not To him whose gaze is glued upon the ball.
“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,” May all have bumped th’ inevitable hour, For aught _he_ knows, infatuated slave!
So come away and leave him to his club, His rubber pill, his fixed and vacant stare. ’Tis but a brainless, golf-besotted dub, A brother to the Hatter and the Hare.
* * * * *
According to Mr. Jim Barnes, whose new and really valuable book of golf-swing photographs has just left the press, one can get more fun out of golf by knowing what he is about when wielding the various clubs. But according to Capper & Capper, “How to Get More Fun Out of Golf” depends on wearing athletic union suits with swiss-ribbed bottoms.
* * * * *
Observe how easily the Western Golf Association, confronted, like the peace conference, with the problem of the stymie, reverses its perplexity! The player of the ball nearer the hole may play it or lift it, at his option.
DOES TOBACCO AFFECT YOUR GAME?
We are not sure whether smoking has an adverse influence on our game, such as it is; but we felt a bit concerned the other day when we missed a thirty-foot putt. For—
Tidal fury surges o’er us, And we breathe a savage “Tut!” When, with all the green before us, We don’t hole a ten-yard putt.
AN EXTREMELY INTELLIGENT DOG.
Sir: I have a remarkable dog, a Scotch terrier, bought of a caddy at St. Andrews. This dog has seen some pretty good golf, and is a bit of a critic. I took him to the links to watch my game. My approach to the second flag was within five yards, and the dog disconcerted me by sitting by the hole and alternately watching it and me. My putt went wide and seven or eight feet past. The dog arose and began digging frantically at the hole to make it larger. Intelligent?
BRASSIE CLEEK.
PROBLEM OF CONDUCT.
A drives. Before A reaches his ball B drives, and his ball strikes A in the back. A waits for an apology. B comes up and says: “Why didn’t you duck, you rummy? That’d been a peach of a drive.”
What should A do?
WHY GOLF DIVOTEES GO INSANE.
“Putting is extremely simple “Of all the golfing arts putting and easy to learn.”—_P. A. is the most unteachable.”—_Bernard Vaile._ Darwin._
“Although putting appears to “The putt is without doubt be the simplest thing in golf the easiest stroke to learn.”—_P. to the beginner, after a little A. Vaile._ experience he will find out that it is the most difficult part of the game.”—_Jerome Travers._
“It is impossible to assert “The best way is to let the with too passionate an emphasis body go slightly forward with that the player must not try the club as the ball is to assist the club on its path struck.”—_Tom Ball._ by sympathetically moving his body forward in unison with it.”—_Bernard Darwin._
“The plan of playing for the “Always go for the back of back of the hole is all right the hole.”—_Innumerable in certain shots.”—_J. L. Low._ Authorities._
DO YOU KNOW THIS ONE?
[From Tom Daly’s department in the Philadelphia Ledger.]
Somebody, probably our favorite story-teller among golfers, narrated to us the tale of a man whom the same John D. invited to play on the Rockefeller private course at Cleveland. The guest had neglected to provide himself with balls. “Lend Mr. Blank a couple of old balls, George,” said the host to his caddie. “There’s no old balls in the bag, Mr. Rockefeller,” replied the caddie. “No?” exclaimed the host, and after a pause, “well, I guess you’ll have to lend him a new one, then.”
* * * * *
We have wondered ever and anon—and sometimes as frequently as now and then—where the illustrators get their golf models for the decorating of magazine covers. Perhaps on public links, where there is no grip or stance so absurd that it may not be observed.
WHY GOLF DIVOTEES GO INSANE.
(_Concerning the use of the mashie_)
“The blade is better for being “Better results can be obtained deep.”—_Mr. Travis._ by using a mashie with a narrow face.”—_Mr. Travers._
“The ball has to be picked up “Follow through as in the rather abruptly.”—_Bernard drive.”—_Mr. Travis._ Darwin._
“Draw in the arms a trifle “There is no drawing in at the immediately after the ball is moment of crossing to produce struck.”—_Mr. Travis._ the cut.”—_P. A. Vaile._
“The player must take turf “It matters very little whether after hitting the ball.”—_Mr. the player takes ground with Travers._ him or not.”—_Simpson, Bart._
“The back-swing is long or short, “Many will remember the wonderful according to the distance from accuracy Jamie Anderson acquired, the green.”—_A multitude of hitting a full blow at all distances, authorities._ and regulating the length of his loft by the inches of turf he took behind the ball.”—_Simpson, Bart._
“Keep your eye on the “Keeping the eye on the ball is not ball.”—_Chorus of pundits._ of first importance.”—_George O’Neil._
GUFFLE FOR GOLFERS
For the benefit of golfers who depend on this department exclusively for their tips on the game, we have engaged Mr. Donald MacBawbee, the famous professional at Prairie Dog, as first aid to the helpless, and we feel safe in promising that he will add delightfully to the complications of the sport.
Mr. MacBawbee is 5 feet 11⅜, and carries the conventional clubs, with the addition of two implements which he calls a soakum and a pushum. The first is a bludgeon of wood, and is employed for dispatching the ball from the tee; the second is an iron for push shots. The grip of this iron is tapered to a point at the end, so that when the hands are pushed forward, which Mr. MacBawbee claims is the proper way to make the shot, the chance of the hands slipping is reduced to an irreducible minimum.
The Prairie Dog pro is committed to heavy clubs, and consequently he prefers lignum vitae to the conventional hickory. Concerning the length of the implements he has very decided opinions. No golfer, he says, should attempt to wield a club taller than himself or shorter than his golf bag. A happy medium, he suggests, will prove most satisfactory.
Mr. MacBawbee lays much emphasis on the matter of stance. Two ways of confronting the ball, he says, are the ramrod stance and the cab-horse stance. The first is to be avoided, as several cases are recorded of players who have broken a leg in swinging. The cab-horse stance is easy, graceful, and relaxing. As an arch is stronger than a straight line, the firmest of all stances, says Mr. MacBawbee, is the hoop stance, but this is possible only for very bowlegged golfers. For this stance he advises that the feet be placed rather near each other.
* * * * *
Says Mr. Jock Hutchinson, who is illuminating the arcanum of golf for the benefit of the Dub Family Robinson, “I am 5 feet 10¼ inches in height, weigh 137 pounds, and carry twelve clubs.” That bag would bar him from the Lincoln Park Country Club.
Hon. Jock’s arsenal of irons includes one which he calls a “stopum.” Percy Hammond’s bag includes a peculiar instrument which might be called a “topum.”
* * * * *
Besides a “stopum” every bag of golf clubs should contain a startum, a topum, a sliceum, a hookum, a sclaffum, a killum, and, for general utility, a dubum.
* * * * *
Doc Hammond’s golf bag has two new clubs in it besides his topum—a lose-um and a wet-um.
* * * * *
Home-bound from the links, we were thinking, for the somethingth time, that golf was a great waste of time and money, when we observed a citizen starting out to break a few hundred clay pigeons. Everything is relative, as Box remarked to Cox.
FAMOUS LAST LINES.
“The shower bath is the best part of the game.”
THE LINKS OF ANCIENT ROME.
Fragments from the Diary of Maecenas.
Latin Verses by P. Sebleius Ferus
(Payson S. Wild).
I—AUGUSTUS FIT CUPIDUS SCIENDI (C II K)
_Maecenas vult ut Princeps faciat quod intemperanter promiserit._
“Nuper, Octavi, dixisti iturum Te mecum olim et campos visurum Ubi libentes iam ludimus illa Altivolante, durissima pila. Die mihi, vetule, saltem spectare Nonne nunc vis, si nondum tentare?”
_Octavius respondet breviter “Minime pol in tuo daguerreotypo.”_
Frustra cum Imperatore locutus, Impedimenta ac fustes indutus, Abii atque quaesivi amicos Qui iam profecti ad agros apricos. Sed vix discesseram fessus orando, Cum Caesar, fessus et ipse negando, Talia reddit adstantibus fando:
_Princeps affirmat hunc ludum sibi nihil in lusibus esse._
“Bella, Rapinae, Incendia, Caedes, Carmina, Litterae, Templa et Aedes, Quae sunt res publicae, graves et durae, Illis furentibus nihil sunt curae; Immo pol VINUM, MULIERES, CANTUM, Non tantum diligunt, antea quantum! Namque NOVICIUS LUSUS DAMNABILIS Nescio quis, et, ut dicunt, mirabilis Fascinavisse videtur sodales Quondam carissimos contubernales. Eam rem omnem non facio flocci; Sum studiosior COMICI SOCCI, Amo PICTURAS MOVENTES vel PONTEM, Cupidus nunquam per vallem aut montem PILULAM ALBAM sequendi in fontem!
_Sed putat illum sibi investigandum saltem._
“At cantilenam eandem cur cano; Num decet ipsi mentiri tyranno? Huc AUTOMOVENS VEHICULUM ferte! Quid-INEL agant comperiam certe.”
II—AUGUSTUS UTITUR LINGUA VULGARI SED LUDUM DISCIT.
_Maecenas pilam expellit dum Princeps adridet._
Pilam expuleram aggere primo, Cum Imperator iam illitus limo, Clamans “Quid! Istoc est totum?” apparet, Atque observat dum pila volaret PEDES per caelum ad terram SESCENTOS. “En,” inquit, “sane homunculos lentos, Qui quot diebus exercent iam dudum Effeminatum eiusmodi ludum!
_Hic Maecenatem exululat (ut ita dicamus)._
“Quam PUTRIS ICTUS hic proximus erat! Talis ut aegre peritus pol ferat; Tu imbecillus es, hercle, Maecenas; Quid fluit tibimet, quaeso, per venas? ‘ATAVIS EDITE REGIBUS’—quippe; Hoc enim luderet ludo XANTIPPE! Si non potuero longius sphaeram Quam tu impellere, causam tum quaeram. Clavam da mihi; ostendam, sceleste, Ego tu faciam. Omnes adeste!”
_Augustus “fusillum exspirat.”_
Ita locutus, tenaciter prendit Clavam et statim ad aggerem tendit. Spuens confestim in mediam manum, Pectore scelus anhelans profanum, Agitat baculum sat negligenter; S-s-s-t! ferit sphaeram (ut putat) valenter. At tamen haece immobilis iacet, Atque Augustus attonitus tacet. Puer cachinnat, qui saccum ferebat, Temporis tamen momento silebat, Nam ululatum iam Princeps tollebat: “STULTE DAMNATE, AD USQUE AVERNAM VOLO TU EAS GEHENNAM INFERNAM!”
_Maecenas leniter loquitur._
Tum ridens “Oculos,” inquam, “attollis; PILULA illa est, minime FOLLIS.”
“Istud pro DI IMMORTALES excide! Si placet, eris dum mortuus, ride!
_Princeps lepidopteron acquirit._
Heus, VESPERTILIO, caece, ausculta: Quae tibi faciam ea sunt multa. Ego et tu excercebimus soli— Pilam amittere edepol noli!”
_Maecenas amicique ludunt pocillum undevicensimum._
Nos modo CAUDAS GALLORUM MARTINI, Modo lagenas arcessimus, vini.
THE LINKS OF ANCIENT ROME.
English version by B. L. T.
I—AUGUSTUS BECOMES C2K.
_Maecenas reminds the Emperor of a rash promise._
“Octavius, I’ve often heard you say That you’d cut out the work some sunny day, And have a look at our new country club. Why not this aft, old top? Put on a sub; Come down and watch us shoot a round of golf, Whether you stay to play or stay to scoff.”
_Augustus returns a laconic “Nix.”_
“Nix on that golf stuff,” said the Emperor, And so to prod him further I forbore. Grabbing my clubs I chucked them in my car, And made the two miles to the links in par; While Caesar, peeved at having stood me off, Let go the following remarks on golf:
_Augustus defines golf as his notion of zero in recreations._