A well worn golf pencil was picked up by your correspondent. What scores
it could tell of.
Brand Whitlock writes from St. Andrews that he had a fine time on the
most famous links in the world, he especially enjoying the Scotch of the
caddies.
In the great fourth-estate golf tournament, Old Pop Wells and Ye Ed
qualified as captains of canal boats. We out-cussed Pop on the first
round, but he more than evened things up on the second, we being two down
at the end.
Ye scribe shot a game of golf with Chick Evans, who allowed that our
clubs, bag, shoes, and hat are all o.k., and that all we need is a little
skill.
Many are complaining that the golf season is at a conclusion; but, as the
native at Lake George said, Hell, did you think it was going to be summer
all the time?
The frost is on the niblick and the putter’s in the shock. When a man has
to play in a couple of undershirts, flannel shirt, sweater, paper vest,
and a mackinaw coat, it is time to hang up the fiddle and the bow, for as
a fellow said, hownl can you play if you can’t follow through?
Ed Beck and Homer Chandler, accompanied occasionally by their wives, are
motoring through the effete east, tearing up the golf courses en route.
* * * * *
Mr. Jack Hoag, for whose golfic opinions we entertain unmitigated
respect, writes that “to hit a ball with a wooden club with the wrists
loose is to have a feeling that the club itself is stopped when the ball
is hit.” Therefore he advises tightening the grip at the impact. It pains
us to differ with Mr. Hoag. A golf ball opposes to the clubhead hardly
more resistance than a puff ball, as two minutes experimenting will show.
Sounder advice, we think, is this: grip loosely or grip tightly, but
never change throughout the stroke.
* * * * *
The mother of Hamilton Post, the golfer, was a Miss Stump; the wedding
took place in Garrett Woods’ chapel, and the clergyman was Dr. Bockwood.
Pass the matches.