Why Is It
That a golf ball knocked out of bounds into high weeds is frequently findable, while one that lies along the course in short grass will elude the most patient search?
After the golf scientists finish the fascinating study of the pronation of the left hand and forearm, we wish they would take up the matter of rhythm, which is the fundamental law of golf, as it is the law of the almost as interesting universe. An ounce of rhythm is worth a pound of pronation.
The “slow back-swing” comes highly recommended, but its only value is that the dub does not fight himself quite so violently at the top of his swing; his mind is a blank for a shorter space of time. Why a back-swing at all? Why not take stance, turn the body, adjust the club back of the head, and then, when all is set, swat the ball? We have driven dozens of balls that way. It is not beautiful, but it is better than the jerky, snatchy, spasmodic swipe of the average golf player.
Miss Kaiser was defeated in the finals of the woman’s tournament, and Mr. Krupp got as far as the finals at Sandusky. Mr. Rainwater won in the finals at Atlanta. He must be, as Joe Davis allows, a casual player.
In the accounts of important golf tournaments we read, in every other paragraph, about the terrific strain; and if the winner does not “crack under the strain” he is hailed as a person of wonderful nerve and the possessor of a lion heart. We wonder whether the writers, who themselves are players, do not exaggerate this strain stuff. Golf is a good deal a matter of taking pains, and if a person is exceedingly keen to win he will not play carelessly. The concentration which care brings, more than offsets, we are sure, any strain. One plays best when alone on the links, or in a close competition; one plays worst in a “friendly game,” especially if the friend is an inferior player.
Ouimet won against Varden by eliminating the Englishman from his consciousness; to all purposes he was playing solitaire. Travis, whose heart is assayed one hundred percent leonine, walks the links in a trance; he, too, is alone.
If you go out to play a friendly game do not expect a score. If this is necessary to your happiness, erase your friend from your mind at the outset and restore him on the final green. It will not be sociable, but golf is not a sociable game.
If you received an invitation to take a shot on the new golf course at the Elgin State hospital of Illinois, you probably remarked: “Yes, I’m crazy about golf, but not enough to go to Elgin.”
Mr. Evans, the well-known “Chick,” reports that golf is played very seriously by the patients at Elgin. This is remarkable as showing that, in one respect, there is no difference between the persons inside and those outside.