A Line-o’-Gowf or Two
Hew to the Line, let the divots fall where they may.
Mr. Legion
He belongs to several golf clubs, he is keen about the game.
You would fancy that the pastime was his being’s end and aim.
He plays in all the tourneys, but (the mystery to me!)
He always takes an iron when he stands upon the tee.
If we Americans took good government as seriously as we take the game of golf, we might hope to overhaul the millennium.
Whether in his relations to others or in the game of golf, almost everybody tries to do too much at one time. So from now to the end of the year we shall attempt but two things—(1) to be kind to those around us; and (2) to learn how to use a mashie. Fore!
Fine distinctions are being drawn between amateur and professional golfers. In the case of the amateur one may occasionally be in doubt, but we can always tell a professional by the way he handles his iron clubs.
To throw coal accurately into the furnace, reports R. E. T., after experimenting, you must keep your eye on the opening, stand “open” and use a pendulum swing. Correct. And in order to get the coal to the back of the furnace you must have a free follow-through. A jerky stroke piles the coal near the door.
Many golfers are setting out for the so-called sunny southland, where for two or three months, they will hook and slice with all their clubs, and pitch balls with a mashie in every direction except toward the flag. We say nothing about the wooden club, but the fluffed iron shot always evokes our compassion. Sooner than persist in such ineptitude we’d arrange our implements in a neat pile, pour kerosene on them, and strike a match.
There may be more than one way to get a straight ball with an iron, but there is at least one way. All the player need keep in mind are two things, instead of the conventional baker’s dozen. And the first of these is that his right elbow must be in contact with his body throughout the swing until the ball is struck. The second essential is that the knuckles of his right hand must be underneath when the ball is struck. If these two items of a complicated matter are attended to the other eleven will give less and less trouble. What a dub needs is a short cut. There it is. Keep the change.
Golf, says Mr. Taft, is a great boon to humanity. It is indeed. It not only “takes you out in the open air,” but it consumes so much time that you haven’t much left for making speeches and putting your foot in it. Every politician should play golf. Col. Lewis, for example, should swap his pen for a midiron.
Despite the pleasant words said of Mr. Wilson’s golf game his scores probably have to be taken out and buried, as G. Ade expresses it. It may be that he is like the gentleman whom he appointed Minister to Belgium. We were playing with the Hon. Brand, and things weren’t going well. He related an experience at St. Andrews. After he had shot five or six holes, he asked the caddie what he thought of his game—“Aweel,” said the bag-bearer, gloomily, “you have a grand style, but nae luck.”
We have located the man who was first on the links of the Jackson Park Country Club. He got there at three A.M. Sunday morning, and, it being too early to play, he curled up in a rocker and went to sleep. He slept so soundly that when he woke up the starter had given out two hundred tickets.