THE FALLACIES OF GOLF
The fallacies of golf, as it has been written, are so numerous and so
grave that it would be impossible to deal with them fully in a
chapter, so I must here content myself with dealing generally with
them, and specifically with a few of the minor mistakes which are so
assiduously circulated by authors of works on golf. I shall take them
as they come, in their natural order. We shall thus have to deal with
them as follows: slow back, the distribution of weight, the sweep, the
power of the left hand and arm, the gradually increasing pace of the
sweep, the action of the wrists, and the follow-through.
We have then to consider, in the first place, the oft-repeated and
much-abused instruction to go "slow back." The rhythm of many a swing
is utterly spoilt by this advice, for the simple reason that,
generally speaking, it is tremendously overdone. Anyone who has ever
seen George Duncan's swing could surely be excused for thinking that
slow back must be a delusion. It is not, however, given to everybody
to be able to swing with the rapidity and accuracy which characterise
Duncan's wonderful drive. In fact, the most that can be said in favour
of going slowly back is that all that is necessary in the way of
slowness is that the player shall not take his club up to the top of
his swing at such a rate that in his recovery at the top of the swing
he will have any unnecessary force to overcome before he begins his
downward stroke.
It stands to reason that there must be at the top of the swing a
moment wherein the club is absolutely stationary. The whole object of
slow back is to ensure that at this moment, which is undoubtedly a
critical portion of the swing, there shall be no undue conflict of the
force which brought the club head up to the top of the swing and that
force which the golfer then exerts to start the club on its downward
journey. When this has been said, practically all that need be said
about slow back has been said.
It is almost a certainty that slow back, as one of what Vardon calls
the parrot cries of the links, has done more to unsettle the drives of
those who follow it, and the tempers of those who follow them, than
any other of the blindly followed fetiches of golf. Let it be
understood then, once and for all, that undue slowness is almost as
great a vice as undue quickness. What the player must, in every case,
strive after is the happy medium. It is an absolute impossibility to
preserve the rhythm of a swing that goes up with the painful slowness
and studied deliberation which we so frequently see as the precursor
of a tremendous foozle.
Incorporated in this overdone injunction, "slow back," we have the
idea of swinging the club away from the ball. In various places we are
told plainly that the club is not to be lifted away from the ball, but
that it must be swung back, whereas, of course, there can be no doubt
whatever that the club is lifted back, and is started on its journey
by the wrists.
It is obvious that no swing can be started from the lowest point in an
arc. If, for example, we take the pendulum of a clock which is
hanging motionless, it will be impossible to swing it one way or the
other without lifting it. Equally obvious is it that the golf club
must be lifted away from the ball.
"As you go up, so you come down" is another revered fallacy. We are
clearly, and probably rightly, instructed, when driving, to take the
club away from the ball in the line to the hole produced through the
ball.
We do this going back comparatively slowly until we are compelled to
leave the line, or rather the plane, of the ball's flight. So at the
moment of making our first divergence from the straight swing back, we
import into our arc a sudden and pronounced curve. On the return
journey, the downward swing, we travel all the way at express speed.
He would indeed be credulous and unanalytical who could believe that
the arc of the downward swing coincides with that of the upward, when
the upward swing is carried out according to the generally published
theory, which, of course, it generally is not. The theory is only good
in so far as it goes to inculcate the idea of remaining in the line to
the hole both before and after impact as long as possible.
The next fallacy which we have to deal with is the matter of the
distribution of weight in the drive. Practically every book that has
been published misinforms the golfer on this point, which is a matter
of fundamental importance in the game; in fact, it is of such great
importance that I shall not deal with it fully here, but shall reserve
it for my next chapter wherein I shall give the views of the leading
exponents of the game on this all-important subject, and shall then
show wherein I differ from them.
Let us consider that we have now arrived at the top of the swing.
Every author of a golf book insists upon the fact that the drive at
golf is a sweep and not a hit. James Braid, in chapter viii. of _How
to Play Golf_, writing of "The Downward Swing," says:
The chief thing to bear in mind is that there must be, in the
case of play with the driver and the brassie, no attempt to
_hit_ the ball, which must be simply swept from the tee and
carried forward in the even and rapid swing of the club. The
drive in golf differs from almost every other stroke in every
game in which the propulsion of a ball is the object. In the
ordinary sense of the word, implying a sudden and sharp
impact, it is not a "hit" when it is properly done.
The impact in the golf drive has been measured by one of our most
eminent physicists to occupy one ten-thousandth of a second. I think
we may take this as "implying a sudden and sharp impact." Braid goes
on to say, "when the ball is so 'hit' and the club stops very soon
afterwards, the result is that very little length, comparatively, will
be obtained, and that, moreover, there will be a very small amount of
control over the direction of the ball."
This might be right, but it seems almost unnecessary to point out that
when a ball has been struck at the amazing speed which such a brief
contact indicates, there is extremely little probability that the club
will stop "very soon afterwards"--in fact, it would be almost a matter
of impossibility to induce a club which had been used for delivering a
blow at the rate which this brief time indicates, to stop very shortly
afterwards. The head of a golf club at the moment of impact with the
golf ball is travelling so rapidly that a camera timed to take
photographs at the rate of one twelve-hundred-and-fiftieth of a
second's exposure, gets for the club head and shaft merely a vague
swish of light, while the ball itself, if it is caught at all, appears
merely to be a section of a sperm candle, so rapid is its motion. I
am speaking now of a photograph taken at this extremely rapid rate
when the photographer is facing the golfer who is making the stroke,
but so rapid is the departure of the ball from the club that even when
the photographer is standing in a straight line directly behind the
player, the ball still presents the appearance of a white bar.
It should then be sufficiently obvious to anyone that so far as
regards the stroke "implying a sudden and sharp impact," the golf
stroke, probably of all strokes played in athletics, is, at the moment
of impact, incomparably the most rapid. It has, therefore, always
seemed to me a matter for wonder to read that this stroke is a sweep
and not a hit.
Braid here says one thing which is of outstanding importance as
exploding another well-known fallacy. It is as follows:
While it is, of course, in the highest degree necessary that
the ball should be taken in exactly the right place on the
club and in the right manner, this will have to be done by
the proper regulation of all the other parts of the swing,
and any effort to direct the club on to it in a particular
manner just as the ball is being reached, cannot be attended
by success.
This is so important that I must pause here to emphasise it, because
we are frequently told, and even Braid himself, as I shall show later
on, has made the same mistake, that certain things are done during
impact, by the intention of the player during that brief period, in
order to influence the flight of the ball. There can be no greater
fallacy in golf than this. No human being is capable of thinking of
anything which he can do in this minute fraction of time, nor even if
he could think of what he wished to do, would it be possible for his
muscles to respond to the command issued by his mind.
To emphasise this, I must quote from the same book and the same page
again. Braid says:
If the ball is taken by the toe or heel of the club, or is
topped, or if the club gets too much under it, the remedy for
these faults is not to be found in a more deliberate
directing of the club on to the ball just as the two are
about to come into contact, but in the better and more exact
regulation of the swing the whole way through up to this
point.
That is the important part in connection with this statement of
Braid's. Many a person ruins a stroke, as, for instance, in
endeavouring to turn over the face of the putter during the moment of
impact, through following, in complete ignorance, the teaching of
those who should know better, and they then blame themselves for their
want of timing in trying to execute an impossibility, whereas the
remedy is, as Braid says, not in trying to do anything during the
moment of impact "but in the better and more exact regulation of the
swing the whole way through up to this point."
Braid is here speaking of the drive, but what applies to the drive
applies to every stroke in the game, with practically equal force. He
continues:
The object of these remarks is merely to emphasise again, in
the best place, that the despatching of the ball from the tee
by the driver, in the downward swing, is merely an incident
of the whole business.
"Merely an incident of the whole business." It is impossible to
emphasise this point too much. The speed of the drive at golf is so
great that the path of the club's head has been predetermined long
before it reaches the ball, so that, as I have frequently pointed out
in the same words which Braid uses in this book, the contact between
the head of the club and the ball may be looked upon as merely an
incident in the travel of the club in that arc which it describes.
The outstanding truth of this statement will be more apparent when we
come to deal with the master strokes of the game. Braid's remarks here
are so interesting that I must quote him again:
The player, in making the down movement, must not be so
particular to see while doing it that he hits the ball
properly, as that he makes the swing properly and finishes it
well, for--and this signifies the truth of what I have been
saying--the success of the drive is not only made by what has
gone before, but it is also due largely to the course taken
by the club after the ball has been hit.
In this paragraph Braid is making a fallacious statement. It will be
quite obvious to a very mean understanding that nothing which the club
does after it has hit the ball and sent it on its way, can have any
possible effect upon the ball, and, therefore, that the success of the
drive cannot possibly in any way be "due largely to the course taken
by the club after the ball has been hit." The success of the stroke
must, of course, be due entirely to the course taken by the club head
prior to and at the moment of impact. What Braid would mean to
express, no doubt, is that if the stroke has been perfectly played, it
is practically a certainty that what takes place after the ball has
gone, will be executed in good form.
I have frequently seen misguided players practising their
follow-through without swinging properly, whereas it is, of course,
obvious that a follow-through is of no earthly importance whatever
except as the natural result of a well-played stroke; and provided
that the first half of the stroke was properly produced, it is as
certain as anything can be that the second half will be almost
equally good, but it is certain that nothing which the club does after
contact with the ball has ceased can possibly influence the flight or
run of the ball. It is, for instance, obvious that if a man has played
a good straight drive clean down the middle of the fair-way, his
follow-through cannot be the follow-through of a slice, because the
pace at which he struck that ball must make his club head go out down
the line after the ball. Similarly, if a man has played a sliced
stroke, it stands to reason that after the ball had left his club, his
club head could not, by any possible stretch of imagination, follow
down a straight line to the hole.
These things are so obvious to anyone who is acquainted with the
simplest principles of mechanics that it is strange to see them stated
in the fallacious manner in which Braid puts them forth. Braid here
says:
The initiative in bringing down the club is taken by the left
wrist, and the club is then brought forward rapidly and with
an even acceleration of pace until the club head is about a
couple of feet from the ball.
Now here we see that Braid subscribes to the idea of "the even
acceleration of pace," but it will be remembered that in a previous
chapter I quoted him as saying that there must be no idea of gaining
speed gradually; that one must be "hard at it from the very top, and
the harder you start the greater will be the momentum of the club when
the ball is reached." Here there is no notion whatever of even
acceleration of pace. It is to get the most one can from the absolute
instant of starting, but notwithstanding this, Braid tells us on page
57 of _How to Play Golf_: "When the ball has been swept from the tee,
the arms should, to a certain extent, be flung out after it."
We observe here that Braid speaks of the ball as having been "swept
from the tee," notwithstanding that in _Advanced Golf_ at page 58 we
read: "But when he has got all his movements right, when his timing is
correct, and when he has absolute confidence that all is well, the
harder he _hits_, the better." I have italicised the word "hits."
Now here we have the practical golf of the drive, and I cannot do
better, in disposing of the fetich of the sweep, than re-echo Braid's
words that for a golfer who wants to get a good drive, when he has
everything else right, "the harder he hits the better."
As a matter of simple practical golf, provided always that a golfer
executes his stroke in good form, it is impossible for him to hit too
hard. This amazing fallacy of the sweep ruins innumerable drives, and
renders many a golfer, who would possibly otherwise play a decent
game, merely an object of ridicule to his more fortunate
fellow-players who know that the golf drive is a hit--a very palpable
hit--and not in any sense of the word a sweep.
Taylor also subscribes to the fetich of the sweep. At page 186 of
_Taylor on Golf_ he says:
In making a stroke in golf the beginner must feel sure that
the correct method of playing is not the making of a hit--as
such a performance is understood--but the effort of making a
sweep. This is an all-important thing, and unless a player
thoroughly understands that he must play in this style I
cannot say I think the chance of his ultimate success is a
very great one; it is an absolute necessity this sweep, and I
cannot lay too much stress upon it.
He continues:
As a more practical illustration of my meaning, I will
suppose that the player is preparing to drive. His position
is correct, he is at the exact distance from the ball. All
that is then necessary is that with a swinging stroke he
should sweep the ball off the tee. But, if in place of
accomplishing this sweep, the ball is _hit_ off the
tee--well, that may be a game, but it certainly does not come
under the heading of golf.
Now we have already seen that James Braid in _Advanced Golf_, which
was published after _How to Play Golf_, has abandoned the idea that
the golf drive is a sweep. Taylor is wonderfully emphatic about the
sweep, but I think it will not require much to convert any golfer, who
is in doubt about the matter, to my views, for the comparative results
obtained will speak for themselves. Moreover, if there is any one man
more than another who is a living refutation of the sweep notion that
man is J. H. Taylor. It is impossible to watch him driving, and to
know the power which he gets from his magnificent forearm _hit_,
without being absolutely convinced that the true nature of the golf
drive is a hit and not a sweep.
I do not find that Vardon subscribes to this idea of the sweep so
definitely as does Taylor, and as did Braid in _How to Play Golf_, but
he does unquestionably subscribe to the notion of the club gradually
gathering speed in its downward course, for he says at page 69 of _The
Complete Golfer_:
The club should gradually gain in speed from the moment of
the turn until it is in contact with the ball, so that at the
moment of impact its head is travelling at its fastest pace.
This, of course, in itself is correct, but there should be no
conscious effort of gradually increasing the pace. As Braid says, "one
must be 'hard at it' right from the beginning." The gradual and even
acceleration of pace must unquestionably be left to take care of
itself, and it has no more right to cumber the golfer's mind than has
the idea when he is throwing a stone that his hand should be moving at
its fastest when the stone leaves it.
[Illustration: PLATE V. J. H. TAYLOR
At the top of his swing in the drive. Note here the position
of Taylor's wrists. This is a matter of the utmost importance.
Taylor is at times inclined to get a little on to his right
leg, but probably here the weight is at least equally
distributed, if not mainly on the left.]
One of the most pronounced and harmful golfing fallacies is what I
call "the fetich of the left." All of the leading writers and players
do their best to instil into the minds of their pupils the idea that
the left hand is the more important. This is a fallacy of the most
pronounced and harmful nature, but it is of such great importance to
the game that I shall not deal with it particularly here, but shall
reserve it for a future chapter.
We now have to deal with the question of gradually increasing the pace
in the drive. I have already, to a certain extent, dealt with this
matter. Nearly all writers make a strong point of this fallacy. James
Braid at page 54 of _How to Play Golf_ says:
The initiative in bringing down the club is taken by the left
wrist, and the club is then brought forward rapidly, and with
an even acceleration of pace until the club head is about a
couple of feet from the ball.
Here it will be seen clearly that Braid gives the idea that the player
is, during the course of the downward swing, to exercise some
conscious regulation of the increase of the speed of the head of the
club.
Braid then goes on to say:
So far, the movement will largely have been an arm movement,
but at this point there should be some tightening-up of the
wrists, and the club will be gripped a little more tightly.
Anyone attempting to follow this advice is merely courting disaster.
To dream of altering the grip, or of consciously attempting in any way
to alter the character of the swing, or to introduce into the swing
any new element of grip, touch, control, or anything else whatever,
must be fatal to accuracy. Braid is much sounder on this matter in
_Advanced Golf_ where he makes no assertion of this nature, but tells
the golfer that he must not bother himself with any idea of gradually
increasing his pace.
This is what Braid says. It is worth repeating:
Nevertheless, when commencing the downward swing, do so in no
gentle, half-hearted manner, such as is often associated with
the idea of gaining speed gradually, which is what we are
told the club must do when coming down from the top on to the
ball. It is obvious that speed will be gained gradually since
the club could not possibly be started off on its quickest
rate. The longer the force applied to the down swing, the
greater do the speed and the momentum become, but this
gradual increase is independent of the golfer, and he should,
as far as possible, be unconscious of it. What he has to
concern himself with is not getting his speed gradually, but
getting as much of it as he possibly can right from the top.
No gentle starts, but hard at it from the very top, and the
harder you start the greater will be the momentum of the club
when the ball is reached.
That, I take it, is absolutely sound advice, for herein there is no
stupid restriction whatever, nor should there be, for the golfer, from
the time his club leaves the ball till it gets back to it, should have
nothing whatever wherewith to cumber his mind but the one idea, and
that is to _hit_ the ball. Braid is surely wide of the mark when he
says "but this gradual increase is independent of the golfer, and he
should, as far as possible, be unconscious of it."
Firstly, it seems to me that this gradual increase is entirely
dependent on the golfer, and secondly, that he should be extremely
conscious of it, and the necessity for the production of it; but this
is one of the many things in golf which, when once it is thoroughly
learned, becomes so much a matter of second nature that the golfer
does it instinctively. He knows perfectly well that he _will_
gradually increase his pace until he hits the ball, but he will not
have it in his mind that he _has_ to do so. All this is bound to be
in the hit. The man who drives the nail does not worry himself about
gradually increasing the pace of the hammer head until it encounters
the head of the nail. He knows he is doing it, but he does not worry
himself about it as the golfer does about his similar operation. If
the golfer would remember that nothing matters much except to hit the
ball hard and truly, and would disregard a lot of the absolute
nonsense about the domination of either one hand or the other, the
gradual acceleration of speed, and many other items of a similar
nature, he would find that his game would be infinitely improved.
I could quote pages from leading authors dwelling upon this matter of
the gradual increase of speed, but I shall content myself with the
passage which I have here quoted from James Braid, together with the
remarks that I have made in former portions of this book, and may make
in later chapters. Braid, in _Advanced Golf_, is sufficiently emphatic
about this matter, and I think we may take it that in _Advanced Golf_
he has given up the idea expressed in his smaller and less important
work _How to Play Golf_, that one should trouble oneself with the even
acceleration of speed. Whether he has or not, it is an absolute
certainty that any idea of consciously regulating the speed of the
club's head in the drive, will result in a very serious loss of
distance, for it will be found an utter impossibility for anyone so to
regulate the speed of the club without seriously detracting from the
rate at which the head is moving through the air, and as every golfer
knows, or should know, the essence of the golf stroke is, that the
club shall be travelling at the highest possible speed when it strikes
the ball. I am, of course, now speaking with regard to the drive, and
obtaining the greatest distance possible, for that is generally the
object of the drive.
The point which must be impressed upon the golfer is, that from the
moment he starts his downward swing until he hits the ball, he has
nothing whatever to think of except hitting that ball. Everything which
takes place from the top of the swing to the moment of impact should
practically be done naturally, instinctively, sub-consciously--any way
you like, except by the exercise of thought during that process as
especially applied to any particular portion of the action, for it is
proved beyond doubt that the human mind is not capable of thinking out
in rotation each portion of the golf drive as it should be played,
during the time in which it is being played.
Probably there is more ignorance about the action of the wrists in
golf than about any other portion of the golf stroke, yet this is a
matter of the utmost importance, a matter of such grave importance
that I must in due course deal with it more fully and examine the
statements of the leading writers on the subject.
It is laid down clearly and distinctly by nearly all golf writers and
teachers that the golfing swing must be rhythmical, that there must be
no jerking, no interruption of the even nature of the swing--in fact,
we have seen that according to many of them the stroke is a sweep and
not a hit, yet we are told distinctly that at the moment of impact a
snap of the wrists is introduced. This must tend, of course, to
introduce a tremendous amount of inaccuracy in the stroke at a most
critical time, and it is therefore a matter worthy of the closest
investigation.
We have already dealt with the fallacy of the sweep. It is a curious
thing that although the leading golfers and authors pin their faith to
the sweep as being the correct explanation of the drive in golf, yet
nearly all of them, when it comes to a question of the stroke with the
iron clubs, say that it is a hit. Now the stroke with the iron clubs
is identical with the stroke with the wooden clubs, with the
exception, of course, in many cases, that it has not gone back so far;
but the action of the wrists is, or should be, the same. The club head
travels, stroke for stroke, relatively in exactly the same arc; the
beginning of the stroke and finish of the stroke is the same, and all
the other laws, _mutatis mutandis_, apply. It would, indeed, be hardly
too much to say that there is at golf only one stroke, and that every
other stroke is a portion of that stroke, that stroke being, of
course, the drive. If we take the drive as the supreme stroke in golf,
and examine the nature of the stroke, we shall find that in that
stroke is included practically every stroke in the game. That being
so, it seems to me extremely hard to differentiate between a cleek
shot and a drive--in fact, in so far as regards the production of the
shot it is impossible to differentiate between them. If the one is a
hit, the other is, and as a matter of fact, every stroke in golf, with
the possible exception of the put, is a hit.
While we are speaking of hits and fallacies, it will not be out of
place to devote a little attention to a point of extreme importance,
and at the same time one which is very much neglected in most books
dealing with the game. It is the ambition of many a golfer to get what
he imagines to be "the true St. Andrews swing." They try this in
numberless cases, where, from the stiffness of their joints and their
build generally, it is impossible in the nature of things that they
can obtain a very full swing. It is bad enough in these cases, for I
speak now of people who have taken to the game when their frames have
become so set that it is practically an impossibility for them to
obtain anything in the nature of a full swing, but the attempt to
obtain a long swing is not, however, confined to those who have taken
to the game late in life, although it is with them naturally a greater
error than it is with those who started the game when their limbs were
more supple and their frames more easily adapted to the stroke.
If I allow myself to take my natural swing, I can nearly always see
the head of the club at the top of my swing, and at the finish it is
hanging nearly as far over the right shoulder as it was at the top of
the swing over the left shoulder. There can be no doubt that with a
swing like this, when one can control it sufficiently, one gets a very
long ball, and there is a very delightful feeling in getting a perfect
drive with such a swing, but from the very nature of the stroke it
stands to reason that it must be less accurate than a much shorter and
less showy effort.
Harry Vardon, in _The Complete Golfer_, asks: "Why is it that they
like to swing so much and waste so much power, unmindful of the fact
that the shorter the swing the greater the accuracy?" There can be no
doubt whatever that in the very full swing, such as I have described,
there is a waste of power and a sacrifice of accuracy. The rule which
is true of the put, "Keep the head of the club in the line to the hole
as long as you can, both before and after impact," is, _mutatis
mutandis_, just as applicable to the drive.
Vardon continues:
Many people are inclined to ask why, instead of playing a
half shot with the cleek, the iron is not taken and a full
stroke made with it, which is the way that a large proportion
of good golfers would employ for reaching the green from the
same distance. For some reason, which I cannot explain,
there seems to be an enormous number of players who prefer a
full shot with any club to a half shot with another, the
result being the same or practically so.
This is a curious remark to come from a golfer of the ability of Harry
Vardon. I should have thought that the reason is sufficiently obvious.
In playing a full shot the ordinary golfer feels that he has simply to
get the most that his club is capable of. He therefore has no
necessity to exercise any conscious muscular restraint. He plays the
shot and trusts the club for his regulation of distance, but on the
other hand, in playing a half shot he knows that he must exercise a
good deal of judgment in applying his strength. It seems to me that
there can be very little doubt that this is the reason why most
golfers prefer the full shot. However that may be, it is beyond doubt
that the desire, as Vardon puts it, "to swing so much" is the root
cause of a vast amount of very bad golf.
"The shorter the swing, the greater the accuracy." This statement is
as true of one's wooden clubs as it is of the iron. It should be
printed as a text and hung in every golf club-house in the world, for
there can be very little doubt that if the value of this advice were
thoroughly realised, it would make golf pleasanter and better for
every one. The blind worship of the full swing has been carried to a
lamentable extent, and golfers who devote any thought to their game
are beginning to understand that beyond a reasonable swing back, the
surplus is so much waste energy, and, which is more important still,
simply imports into the stroke a very much greater risk of error.
Many years ago I had a very remarkable illustration of the value of
the short swing. A club mate of mine who was an adept at most games,
and a champion at lawn-tennis and billiards, took it into his head to
play golf. He was in the habit of thinking for himself. Of course,
directly he started to learn golf, every one wished to make him tie
himself into the usual knots, but he refused to be influenced by other
people's ideas. He was content to work out his own salvation. He had
watched many of the unfortunate would-be golfers contorting themselves
in their efforts to reproduce what they took to be "a true St. Andrews
swing," but determined that he would not follow their example.
He had conceived the idea that a drive was only an exaggerated put,
and he made up his mind that he would proceed to exaggerate his put by
degrees until he had reached the limit of his drive, and had found
that no further swinging back would give him extra distance. He found
that he got no farther with his drive when he carried his club right
round to what is known as the full swing, than he did when his club
head came from about the same height as his lawn-tennis racket did in
playing the game which he knew so well.
When he had ascertained this he resolutely refused to increase the
length of his swing. His club mates laughed at him and told him that
it was not golf, that he was playing cricket, and many other pleasant
little things like this. It had no effect whatever on him, for he knew
that he was producing the stroke, in so far as he played it, exactly
according to the best-known methods of the leading golfers of the
world. He was content, in this respect, to follow known and accepted
methods, but he would not in any way adopt the prevalent idea of a
long swing.
Of course, he was laughed at and told that it was extremely bad form,
but before long he "had the scalps" of his detractors. Then they were
unable to say much about his golf, and he had very much the best of
the argument when within a remarkably short space of time he won the
championship of his Province. He proved quite conclusively to his own
satisfaction, and to the great chagrin of many of the other players,
the truth of Vardon's statement, "The shorter the swing the greater
the accuracy."
There can be very little doubt that for those who take to golf late in
life, especially if they have not played other games, the orthodox
swing is a trap. A very great number of them get the swing, but not
the ball. Many of them are, I am afraid, under the impression that the
swing is of more importance than getting the ball away. Needless to
say, they do not improve very much.
For those who take to golf late in life, I am sure that the great
principle which makes for length and direction in any ball game that
is, or ever was played, namely, keep in the line of your shot as long
as you can both before and after impact, will be found as sound to-day
as it always has been. Probably it will be found, and before very long
too, that what is true for the late beginner is equally true for the
greatest experts. As a matter of fact, some of our leading
professionals are beginning to realise this already, particularly with
regard to their iron play.
There are several very important points in connection with the short
swing--points which, I believe, are of very great advantage to the
golfer when once he has thoroughly grasped them. It is obvious that
the shorter the swing is, the less necessity will there be for
disturbing the position of one's feet. This naturally means that there
is less likelihood of any undue swaying. Secondly, the shorter swing
is naturally much more upright than the orthodox swing, and it comes
more natural to a player to hit downwards at his ball when using it.
The first point which we have made is that the shorter swing produces
less disturbance of the feet, because it is generally more upright
than a corresponding length of the orthodox swing. In the flat swing
there is less need to move the feet than there is in the upright
swing. It is in the latter that one feels _soonest_ the necessity for
lifting the heel of the left foot, but in the short swing there is not
the same necessity for balancing and pivoting on the toes as there is
in the orthodox drive, for the swing back is not extended enough to
require it. It should be apparent then that with the short swing much
of the complexity of the golf drive is taken away.
I must make this a little clearer: practically all the golf books tell
us that the left heel must come away from the earth when the arms seem
to draw it. Anyone who follows this out in practice will find that it
is impossible to preserve the rhythm of his swing. As a matter of
practical golf the left heel must come away from the earth as soon as
the head of the club leaves the ball. The motions are practically
simultaneous. This matter of the management of the feet is probably
the greatest contributing cause to the complexity of the golf drive,
and the many erroneous descriptions of it which are given by our
leading players. The principal reason for this is that it is the
latitude given to the body by this shifting of the heels which
accounts for the wrong transference of the weight to the right foot,
and the equally wrong _lurching_ on the left foot.
One would not, of course, for a moment advocate that the golfer's
heels should be immovable, although James Braid does maintain, quite
wrongly, I think, that the position of the feet at the moment of
impact should be exactly the same as at the moment of address--that
is, that the heels should be firmly planted on the ground. Although he
says this, the instantaneous photographs of him in the act of driving
show conclusively that he does not carry his theory into practice.
Many of our greatest golfers are beginning now to see that the firmer
the foundation, the more fixed and immovable the base, the steadier
must be the superstructure--to wit, the chest and shoulders--and
therefore the more constant will be the centre, if I may use the word
in a general sense, of the swing.
The importance of preserving this "centre" cannot be overestimated,
for golf is a game which demands a wonderful degree of mechanical
accuracy, and it is only by observing the best mechanical principles
that the best results can be obtained.
In the ordinary drive of the ordinary golfer there is usually an
excessive amount of foot and ankle work, and, generally speaking, this
foot and ankle work is not carried out in the best possible manner.
There is, as a matter of fact, imported into the drive far too great
an opportunity for the player to move his weight about. He takes full
advantage of this, and the usual result is that he transfers his
weight, when driving, to his right leg, which, as we shall see later
on, is a very bad fault for the golfer to acquire. In the shorter
swing there is much less temptation for the golfer to make the errors
which are usually attendant on faulty footwork.
The other point of importance which I have mentioned in connection
with the short swing, is that it comes much more naturally to the
player to hit downwards. Probably not one golfer in a hundred
realises that the vast majority of his strokes are made in a manner
wholly opposed to the best science of golf. They are, generally
speaking, _hit upwards_, whereas the most perfect golf drive should be
hit downwards, and this statement is, in perhaps a less degree, true
of nearly all golf strokes which are not played on the green.
The best way to get any ordinary ball into the air is to hit it
upwards, but this general rule does not apply to the golf ball, for it
is always stationary and is generally lying on turf. However, few
players will trust the loft of the club to perform its natural
function. They seem to forget that each club has been made with a loft
of such a nature that, given the ball is struck fairly and properly,
the loft may be relied on to do its share of the work. Consequently,
as they will not trust the club to get the ball up, they hit upwards,
and so, to a very great extent, minimise the amount of back-spin which
might come from the loft, were the club travelling in a horizontal
line at the moment of impact.
It is very much harder, however, to hit upwards with a short swing, or
perhaps it would be more correct to say that there is a much greater
tendency to hit the ball before the club head has got to the lowest
point in its swing. We must emphasise this point, for it is of great
importance, as back-spin is of the essence of the modern game, and
particularly of the modern drive. If, therefore, we can show that the
short swing tends more naturally to produce back-spin than does the
full St. Andrews swing, and at the same time to give greater accuracy
as regards direction, it need hardly be stated that it will not be
long before we have the scientific players giving the stroke the place
to which it is undoubtedly entitled in the game of golf.