In the spring the professionals come tumbling on to the stage of golf
once more with their happy welcome cry, “Here we are again.” Sometimes
in the middle of the summer season people are apt to say that we get at
least enough of these professional competitions, and that it would be
agreeable if we had a little more time to think of our own golf in all
its varied charm, instead of our attention being invited day by day to
the many permutations and combinations of “the quartette” in exhibition
matches, and the aspirations of such as Jones among those next to them.
But what a dull season it would be if Vardon and Braid were not up
against Taylor and Herd somewhere or other--it does not matter
where--just as in the olden time, or Herd and Braid did not show once
again at the little course of Slocum-on-Mudbury that there was something
wrong with their running in that never-to-be-forgotten foursome when
four hundred sovereigns were at stake. And then when Rowland Jones is
included in one of these foursome combinations, we say, quite pleased,
“Ha, Jones is coming on! Jones is going to assert himself!” One day Jack
White is in again--that happy-hearted Jack, who came by a great
championship in 1904 at Sandwich, where records were falling in every
round--and then we say to ourselves very good-naturedly, “I hope Jack
will get on to his drive again in one of these matches!” Or the fourth
man may be Tom Vardon, and that is very interesting, because Tom is a
great big sportsman who is stuffed tight with the effervescing joy of
life. If it is Andrew Kirkaldy, as it is occasionally, we rub our hands
and observe, “Grand matchplayer is Sam! Now we shall see how a foursome
should be played! Good as the best is Sam!”
The fact of the matter is, that these professional matches and
competitions are now a fast and integral part of our golfing system. We
may think that we could do without them, and in the summer-time we rail
constantly against them, and say that they never would be missed. But
how we should miss them! Golfing life would not be the same if there
were not occasions to make such almost daily observations as those just
quoted. The season would be without salt, and our little amateur combats
would seem to be lacking in an unknown stimulus that was always there
before.
Then what a void in golfing life would there be if there were not
constant occasion to express admiration for the supremacy and the
prowess of the triumvirate--Harry Vardon, Braid, and Taylor. When we are
too frequently told of the achievement and the skill of the heroes of
the olden time, it is well to think of what the triumvirate has done and
still can do. Perhaps not many golfers, even among those who pay
faithful attention to such matters, have a proper sense of the amazing
record of these three men. I had occasion to analyse it lately, and I
believe not in any other sport have the periods of three such champions
coincided as they have done in golf during the last few years. It is a
strange thing that the fates should have pitchforked Braid, Vardon, and
Taylor into the arena at the same time, each man being so much above
all outside the three. It is as if Ormonde, Donovan, and Flying Fox had
been in the same race for the Derby. In one sense it seems a waste of
exceptional talent on one period, to the possible impoverishment of
another, but golf spectators and players should appreciate the advantage
of the times in which they live, for it is unlikely that three such
golfers will ever be to the fore at the same time again after these
three have gone their way, and it is as certain as anything that a
hundred years from now the golf world will speak reverently of the great
triumvirate of the early days of the twentieth century. It will
certainly be remembered that after this triumvirate had been established
eleven years in each other’s company, they wound up a championship
first, second, and third against the biggest field that had ever
contested a championship, this being at Muirfield in 1906.
Three times in those eleven years the triumvirate collectively achieved
the highest possible distinction in this way, the first being in 1900,
which was Taylor’s year, the second in 1901, when Braid won, and the
third in 1906, when Braid was again successful. Taylor was the first of
the three to show activity, and he won the championship in 1894 and
1895. Not until 1896 was the triumvirate definitely constituted, as it
were, by the whole three, Vardon, Taylor, and Braid appearing in the
championship at the same time. In that year Vardon finished first,
Taylor second, and Braid sixth. In the following year Braid, in the
second place in the lists, was the foremost man of the three. Then there
was a remarkable run, for the triumvirate found the winner in seven of
the next nine years. Vardon scored twice running to begin with; then
Taylor and Braid; in 1902 Vardon and Braid tied for second place; the
next year Vardon was first again; Taylor and Braid tied for second
position in 1904, and this was followed by two championships for Braid.
Only three times in eleven years did the triumvirate let the
championship go out of their small circle, and it may be mentioned that
the three men who beat them on these respective occasions were
Mr. Hilton in 1897, Herd in 1902, and Jack White in 1904.
Adding up the records of positions and scores of all golfers who took
part in these championship competitions when the triumvirate did, and
making, so to speak, one long championship of it, the triumvirate lead
the way, and the rest--the very best of them--are absolutely tailed off.
The scores registered in the championships, added up, afford the
following result: Harry Vardon, 3426; James Braid, 3446; J. H. Taylor,
3454. Herd fittingly comes fourth with 3527, and then there is an
enormous gap between him and the fifth man. Taylor would, of course, be
in a different position if we counted in the two early championships
that he won, and let it be said for Taylor that, including this year of
1907, he has been second for the championship four times in succession
and five in all--a magnificent record such as stamps him as the most
brilliantly consistent champion of all time. But it is a heartbreaking
record for Taylor all the same, and this great and popular player has
all golfers’ sympathy.
Golfers are not like the brooks of poets; they cannot go on for ever. We
shall look to see the great men of to-day playing fine golf in twenty
years from now, and upon occasion they will play such rounds as will
make us say, “That was just as in the olden time!” But their average of
merit must diminish, and probably all the premier three, or at least two
of them, have passed the high-water mark of their ability and their tide
of supremacy is receding. Who, then, is to succeed them? For years past
we have been looking for likely and worthy successors. There are many
fine golfers on the links, and occasionally great things are prophesied
of some of them; but disappointment almost invariably follows. The times
do not seem to be breeding any more Vardons, Taylors, or Braids. A
triumvirate of the future is not yet in the making. Our grandparents and
other good people constantly tell us that there are as good fish in the
sea as ever came out of it, and it might seem a foolish thing to suggest
that we shall never again have such a band of supreme artists at the
game as those whose works we enjoy witnessing in these days. But are not
the chances heavily against there being again in our time simultaneously
three more men of such outstanding ability as these three, each one of
whom would be the sole man of his generation if it were not for the
other two? Cricket did not produce three Graces at the same time;
billiards had only one Roberts. You could not imagine three Graces and
three Roberts. But we have had them in golf in late years.
One is inclined to think that the fact is that the men who are great
to-day were trained in a severer and more heroic school than their
successors will be, and they had each a spark of genius which the
conditions of the time fanned into the full flame of glory. We cannot
expect three more of them to come along at the same time; but we might
expect and do want one more, someone who shall be an acknowledged chief
of the game, someone whom we shall be glad to see win the championship,
as we cannot be so glad when it is won by a golfer than whom there is no
one more unlikely ever to win it again. I am no believer in these things
going in a round of comparative mediocrity. What seems to be the matter
with most modern aspirants is that they have not that touch of genius
which is so evidently possessed by the men who have been making golfing
history during the past decade. They may drive well, play their irons
well, putt well, and they may do many grand holes and accomplish
numerous brilliant rounds, breaking many records. At times they may beat
the champions and past champions. But they are not the same golfers.
Watch them play a round and you can see the difference. They have not
the same genius. They are merely ordinary human golfers, though good
ones at that; they are palpably suffering too much from mere human
weakness. You see them trying hard, trying so very hard. The triumvirate
do not seem to try. It is just there. There is one of them who tries
less than any golfer who has ever been born, and he does more when
trying less than those others trying hard. Yes, it is just there--the
genius for the game.