Bobby Jones on Golf Read online

  The answer to the question that started all this is, “Not because he can’t play while he is thinking of the swing, but because he isn’t sure what he ought to think about, and what he ought to try to do.” Granted, of course, that there could be those who have an irreproachable conception of the golf stroke, yet have not enough muscular control or sense of timing to play well; still that does not alter the proposition that the man who has the muscular control and sense of timing cannot play consistently well unless he knows what he is doing.

  But I think the nature of the problem is indicated when we realize that even the man with the control, the sense, and the knowledge finds intervals when his game is off and he can’t find the reason. There are so many places to look and so many checks to make—and sometimes the trouble is found in the simplest and least obvious locations. Golf is a game that must always be uncertain. I don’t believe that anyone will ever master it to the extent that several have mastered billiards and chess. If someone should do so, I think he would give it up—but that is a danger most of us would be willing to risk.

  6 THE VALUE OF GOOD FORM

  I am sure that the average golfer, trying to absorb and use the mass of instructive material given to him, wishes at times that it could all be reduced to a very few points that he might readily grasp and apply. The person concerned with helping him wishes, too, that this might be possible; but little things—often very little things—matter a great deal in golf. When one thinks that even a trained eye will have difficulty detecting the difference between the swing that produces a perfect shot and that which results in a foozle, the importance of small variations can be better appreciated. The perfection of timing and the precision of striking required to produce a perfect golf shot allow as little leeway as anything in sport.

  Obviously, even all golfers of the first rank do not swing their clubs in exactly the same way; but it is rare, indeed, that one finds a successful player who violates or omits any of the recognized fundamentals of the correct swing. It is always possible to make some amount of correction or compensation while the swing is under way, so that a superior sense of control may enable one individual to get away with things another could not risk. I have a friend who insists that his only good shots result when he makes the same number of mistakes coming down that he made going up.

  But to the person who is trying to develop a reasonably sound swing, corrective or compensatory movements should be of little interest. Good form simplifies the action until each essential movement flows into each succeeding essential, and complications requiring timing and correction are reduced to a minimum. The unorthodox swinger may on a particular day, when he is “right,” outplay the man of sound method, but over the long run the latter will certainly hold an advantage.

  Obviously the sound swing is not a definite reality. We all recognize that no two players swing the club in exactly the same manner, yet certainly more than one deserves to be regarded as a sound swinger. The trained observer and student of the game, over a long period of close observance and intimate contact with successful players, in time fixes upon several actions and postures that are common to all. He learns to separate the mannerisms of the individual from the basic elements of the swing, and gradually builds up a conception of a correct set of motions which he regards as essential in playing the game expertly. When he says that a certain swing is sound, he means that regardless of variations peculiar to the individual, the method still embraces and accounts for all correct actions and postures or enough of them to assure a high rate of success.

  The first requisite of a truly sound swing is simplicity. In this respect, I think that the late Horton Smith and Lady Heathcoat-Amory, who as Miss Joyce Wethered played superb golf in my day, excel any golfers I have ever seen. Each reduced the matter of hitting the ball to two motions: with one, the club was taken back; with the other, it was swung through. I have found many to agree with me that Miss Wethered’s swing was the most perfect in the world, but I think it is safe to say that Horton Smith’s backswing was the simplest. Either of these makes an ideal model to be imitated by anyone, for in these two methods it was possible to see all the fundamentals without the confusing effect of mannerisms.

  It will be found also that the sound swing is very graceful. This does not mean that any graceful motion is necessarily sound, but one cannot execute the various motions, nor assume successively the correct postures, in rhythmic style, without effecting a pleasing appearance. The sound swing flows from beginning to end, but it flows powerfully, and is graceful because it is correct, rather than because it is made so. To me, the performance of the perfect golf stroke is as much a thing of beauty as can be found in any of the performing arts.

  The simple swing that is also sound will be susceptible to repetition through a number of performances. This is the basis of consistency on the golf course.

  7 SWINGING THE CLUB HEAD

  Two of golf’s most eminent instructors, Macdonald Smith and Ernest Jones, built all their teaching around the one conception, “Swing the club head.” There are other details to be thought of, of course, in developing anything like a sound swing, but in the end it will be found that this is the prime necessity. Those who are able to sense what it means to “swing the club head” will find that they can thus cover up a multitude of sins, and those who sense it not will find that no amount of striving for perfection in positioning will quite take its place.

  In order to make easier the discovery of this sense of swinging, the club must be swung back far enough so that there will be no need for hurry or quickened effort coming down. This is the one point I have tried to stress more than anything else—the necessity for an ample backswing if one is truly to swing the club head. The man who allows himself only a short backswing can never be a swinger, because his abbreviated length does not allow space for a smooth acceleration to get him up to speed by the time the club reaches the ball.

  Rhythm and timing we all must have, yet no one knows how to teach either. The nearest approach to an appreciation of what they are is in this conception of swinging. The man who hits at the ball, rather than through it, has no sense of rhythm; similarly, the man who, after a short backswing, attempts to make up for lost space by a convulsive effort initiating the downstroke has no sense of rhythm.

  The only one who has a chance to achieve a rhythmic, well-timed stroke is the man who, in spite of all else, yet swings his club head, and the crucial area is where the swing changes direction at the top. If the backswing can be made to flow back leisurely, and to an ample length, from where the start downward can be made without the feeling that there may not be enough time left, there is good chance of success. But a hurried backswing induces a hurried start downward, and a short backswing makes some sort of rescue measures imperative. A good golfer will not like to be guilty of either.

  Two of the important points in the swinging machinery are the wrists and hips; if the wrists do not flex easily, or if the trunk does not turn readily, a true swing cannot be accomplished. Stiff or wooden wrists shorten the backswing and otherwise destroy the feel of the club head. Without the supple connection of relaxed and active wrist joints, and a delicate, sensitive grip, the golf club, which has been so carefully weighted and balanced, might just as well be a broom handle with nothing on the end. The club head cannot be swung unless it can be felt on the end of the shaft.

  So swing, swing, swing, if you want to play better golf; fight down any tautness wherever it may make its appearance; strive for relaxed muscles throughout, and encourage a feeling of laziness in the backswing and the start downward. Go back far enough, trust your swing, and then—swing the club head through.

  8 HOW FORM AFFECTS SWINGING

  The man with a faulty swing ties himself up so that a smooth stroke becomes impossible. The expert swings smoothly because his successive positions are easy and comfortable, and are such that the movement from one to the other is not hampered by unwilling muscles. The average golfer does not swing
smoothly because at some stage he creates a condition that makes it easier for him to move in the wrong direction than in the right one.

  Here is an example of how one faulty position or movement can upset a swing, when, with this one fault corrected, it is able to function reasonably well. The swing, being my own, is one with which I can claim to be fairly familiar; and, when the trouble appeared, it marked the first time in at least ten years when I had developed a fault I could not detect and work out for myself within a reasonable time.

  For several months, the old feeling of comfort and smoothness had entirely escaped me, especially with the woods—the irons had not been so bad. I noted that my swing was abnormally fast, and particularly that my legs were not working just right. I tried everything that had worked in the past—slowing down, exaggerating the forward shift of my hips at the start of the downstroke, watching the wrist-cock to make certain of getting the left side into the stroke—but still I could not bring back the accustomed rhythm. I did suspect that the trouble was in my feet, for I could not be even nearly comfortable in the stance and address position, which upon examination appeared to be as usual.

  So, despairing of ever working the thing out myself, I took out George Sargent, who was then professional at my home club, to knock around a few holes and talk the thing over. At first, of course, he could only see that my swing did not look as it used to look, that the rhythm was gone, and that it lacked power. Searching back from effect to cause, after we had played five holes, he happened to be standing directly behind my back as I hit a brassie shot. Immediately he caught it. In addressing the ball, my right heel was entirely off the ground.

  Now, let’s see what the effect of this could be. My right knee was bent abnormally and what weight rested on the right foot was supported on the toe. Obviously, this made a normal stance, with both feet about on line, very uncomfortable. With only the toe of this foot supporting the weight, I had to draw the right foot well back to maintain any sort of balance. But the worst part of it was that the precarious balance made a smooth start back impossible. There was an irresistible impulse to get back to earth quickly, and my backswing always started with a jerk. Straightening the right leg a bit—it should never be perfectly straight or rigid at the beginning—and lowering the right heel to the ground made my balance secure again, and I was able to start back without hurry.

  The two danger points are at the start of the backswing and at the start of the downstroke. To start back smoothly avoids haste later on; to start down in leisurely fashion helps to maintain the perfect balance, and provides for well-timed, accurate striking.

  CHAPTER TWO

  1 EASE AND COMFORT

  2 SHIFTING THE WEIGHT

  3 PLACING THE FEET

  4 PROPER POSTURE

  5 POSITIONING THE BALL

  6 THE PROCEDURE IN ADDRESSING THE BALL

  7 VARIATIONS IN THE STANCES

  8 STAYING IN MOTION

  9 THE POSITION OF THE HEAD

  10 “REACHING” FOR THE BALL

  11 AN INSIDIOUS HABIT

  The Address

  CHAPTER TWO

  1 EASE AND COMFORT

  One day when my father and I were playing together, he was driving last from the back of a very long tee. With a swing that could only be described as labored, he bashed the head of his driver into the turf so that the ball popped almost straight up, and dropped just in front of the teeing ground. As we started forward, he called to me, “Come back here a minute.” Then, with as graceful a swing as I could imagine, he clipped a dandelion from the grass. Glaring at me, he said in a strangely challenging tone, “Now what’s the matter with that swing?” “Nothing,” I said, “why don’t you use it sometime?”

  There is not one golfer in the world who has not at some time thought how fine it would be if he could swing at the ball as freely and as smoothly as he swings at a clover top or a piece of paper lying on the grass. Some, indeed, do not even then have to others the graceful and effective appearance they conceive themselves to have, but there is no denying, except in the case of experts, that the practice swing is, almost always, far better than that made with the intent of striking the ball. The player himself senses and admits this difference, often recognizes the reason, yet fails to understand that there is a sensible way to overcome it.

  Most persons accept it as one of those things that must be suffered. The necessity for the existence of this difference is lamented, accepted, and we pass on. The entire business is attributed to a mental condition, a sense of responsibility, anxiety, fear, or whatnot, setting up a tension that cannot be overcome.

  This much is true, but it so happens that it is only a part of the story. The difference in the state of mind of the player when taking a practice swing and when playing an actual stroke is easily understood and its effect appreciated; but what is neither understood nor appreciated is that the elimination or omission of some of the frills of the actual stroke that are not present in the practice swing may work a complete change. The expert is not afraid of the ball, because he has learned to have confidence in his ability to hit it.

  Watch a moderately good average golfer take a practice swing preparatory to making a shot. He swings the club easily, rhythmically to and fro, there is a proper balance throughout and a commendable relaxation. The stance is always conservative and comfortable—one into which he has stepped naturally without fuss or bother. Now watch him as he steps up to the ball. He first sets his feet wide apart—at least farther apart than they were before. This, he thinks, is to assure good balance and a firm footing.

  Then he begins to waggle, and the more he waggles the more he bends over the ball and the more tense he becomes. Instead of sensing the correct position, or of falling naturally into a comfortable one, he attempts to set himself before the ball with perfect accuracy, attempting to see that everything is placed just so.

  I have no quarrel with anyone for taking pains with a shot nor for making certain that he is ready to play before he starts the swing. But most golfers lose sight of the fact that in the first position it is ease and comfort that are to be sought, and that a strained or unnatural posture was never recommended by anyone.

  The general criticisms of the average player’s posture at address are that his feet are too far apart, his body is bent too much, and his arms are extended too far. These are the most common faults, and every one of them is unnatural. The natural way to stand is with the feet separated, but not set wide apart; the natural bend of the body is very slight, with the weight more back on the heels and never entirely on the toes; and the natural disposition of the arms is to allow them to hang almost straight down from the shoulders.

  It is very rare that tension is observed in a practice swing, and this is so because the player, not feeling the necessity of being entirely correct, comes closer to assuming a natural posture. Let him take this naturalness into the actual shot; let him simplify his preliminary motions as much as possible; and let him start the ball on its way without hurry, yet without setting himself on point before it like a fine bird dog on a covey of quail In this way, he can go a long way, on the physical side, toward overcoming the understandable mental disturbances that must arise when he is confronted by the responsibility of hitting the ball. Mental tension—that is, keenness—never does any harm when it is accompanied by physical relaxation.

  2 SHIFTING THE WEIGHT

  How many times have you seen a left foot fly up in the air as its owner struck at a golf ball? I believe you would like to have a new ball for every one you have seen. I would not be surprised if you have noticed this movement to be characteristic of the swings of a good many of your acquaintances, for it is one of the commonest of all golfing faults.

  I have said that waving the left foot is a fault. It is really an evidence, or result, of a fault. The real fault is in the falling back, in shifting the weight or permitting it to shift backward during the hitting stroke—and there is nothing worse in golf—except, possibly, hi
tting the ball with the wrong end of the club.

  There are at least three things that can cause a man to be guilty of this mistake. First, he may address the ball with too much weight on his left foot and keep it there during the backswing; second, he may start right but shift to his left foot going back; and, third, he may not shift incorrectly, but start from a position so far ahead of the ball that he will have to move backward in order to hit it. In any case, he finds that he is trying to hit the ball while falling away from it—attempting to move his hands and club in one direction while his weight and the great power of his body are moving in another—a thing so preposterous that it is not really worthwhile saying that it is bad.

  I do not believe that it is necessary to shift the weight backward during the backswing; certainly, I know it is not if the player stands sufficiently behind the ball when he is addressing it. If he insists upon addressing the ball off his right foot, then he may set himself right by means of this backward shift. But he must get his weight behind the stroke if he is going to hit the ball correctly.

  Hitting a golf ball is like hitting anything else in that it cannot be hit hard or efficiently if it is behind the striker. He cannot reach back to get it without sacrificing a world of power. When a good swing starts down, everything ought to move together toward the ball. The left heel should come down, the hips should shift forward, the arms and clubhead should move with the rest. If there is one single part of the mechanism moving in another direction, setting up a counterforce and partially overcoming the force directed toward the ball, then the stroke will be inefficient, less powerful than it ought to be.