ON BEING BUNKERED
The philosopher in a bunker--On making certain of getting out--The
folly of trying for length--When to play back--The qualities of the
niblick--Stance and swing--How much sand to take--The time to
press--No follow-through in a bunker--Desperate cases--The brassy
in a bunker--Difficulties through prohibited grounding--Play
straight when length is imperative--Cutting with the niblick.
This is a hateful subject, but one which demands the most careful and
unprejudiced consideration, for are not even the best of us bunkered
almost daily? There is nothing like the bunkers on a golf links for
separating the philosophic from the unphilosophic among a golfing crowd,
and when a representative of each section is in a bunker at the same
time it is heavy odds on the philosopher winning the hole. There are two
respects in which he differs from his opponent at this crisis in his
golfing affairs. He does not become flurried, excited, and despondent,
and give the hole up for lost with a feeling of disgust that he had
committed the most unpardonable sin. He remembers that there are still
various strokes to be played before the hole is reached, and that it is
quite possible that in the meantime his friend may somewhere lose one
and enable him to get on level terms again. When two players with plus
handicaps are engaged in a match, a bunkered ball will generally mean a
lost hole, but others who have not climbed to this pinnacle of
excellence are far too pessimistic if they assume that this rule
operates in their case also. The second matter in which the philosophic
golfer rises superior to his less favoured brother when there is a
bunker stroke to be played, is that he fully realises that the bunker
was placed there for the particular purpose of catching certain
defective shots, and that the definite idea of its constructors was that
the man who played such a shot should lose a stroke as penalty for doing
so--every time. It is legitimate for us occasionally to put it to
ourselves that those constructors did not know the long limits of our
resource nor the craftiness we are able to display when in a very tight
corner, and that therefore, if we find a favourable opportunity, we may
cheat the bunker out of the stroke that it threatens to take from us.
But this does not happen often. When the golfer has brought himself to
realise that, having played into a bunker, he has lost a stroke or the
best part of one, and accepts the position without any further ado, he
has gone a long way in the cultivation of the most desirable properties
of mind and temperament with which any player of the game can be
endowed. This man, recognising that his stroke is lost, when he goes up
to his ball and studies the many difficulties of its situation, plays
for the mere purpose of getting out again, and probably putting himself
on the other side in that one stroke which was lost. It does not matter
to him if he only gets two yards beyond the bunker--just far enough to
enable him to take his stance and swing properly for the next shot.
Distance is positively no object whatever, and in this way he insures
himself against further loss, and goes the right way to make up for his
misfortune.
Now, what does the other man do in like circumstances? Unreasonably and
foolishly he refuses to accept the inevitable, and declines to give up
the idea of getting to a point a hundred yards or more in front with his
next shot, which he would have reached if he had not been in the bunker.
He seems to think that the men who made the bunkers did not know their
business. Having been bunkered, he says to himself that it is his duty
to himself and to the game to make up for the stroke which was lost by
supremely brilliant recovery under the most disheartening
circumstances. He insists that the recovery must be made here in the
bunker, and thereafter he will progress as usual. It never occurs to him
that it would be wiser and safer to content himself with just getting
out the hazard, and then, playing under comparatively easy and
comfortable conditions, to make his grand attempt at recovering the lost
stroke. He would be much more likely to succeed. A stroke lost or gained
is of equal value at any point on the route from the tee to the hole,
and it is a simple fact, too often never realised, that a long putt
makes up for a short drive, and a mashie shot laid dead for a previous
stroke from which the ball was trapped in the bunker. But the
unphilosophic gentleman, who is ignorant of, or tries to resist, these
truths, feels that his bunkered stroke must be compensated for by the
next one or never. What is the result? Recklessly, unscientifically,
even ludicrously, he fires away at the ball in the bunker with a cleek
or an iron or a mashie, striving his utmost to get length, when, with
the frowning cliff of the bunker high in front of him and possibly even
overhanging him, no length is possible. At the first attempt he fails to
get out. His second stroke in the hazard shares the same fate. With a
third or a fourth his ball by some extraordinary and lucky chance may
just creep over the top of the ridge. How it came to do so when played
in this manner nobody knows. The fact can only be explained by the
argument that if you keep on doing the same thing something is sure to
happen in the end, and it is a sufficient warning to these bunkered
golfers that the gods of golf have so large a sense of justice and of
right and wrong that by this time the hole has for a certainty been
lost. The slashing player who wants to drive his long ball out of the
bunker very rarely indeed gets even this little creep over the crest
until he has played two or three more, and is in a desperate state of
lost temper. An alternative result to his efforts comes about when he
has played these three or four more, and his ball is, if anything, more
hopelessly bunkered than ever. All sense of what is due to the game and
to his own dignity is then suddenly lost, and a strange sight is often
seen. Five, six, and seven more follow in quick succession, the man's
arms working like the piston of a locomotive, and his eyes by this time
being quite blinded to the ball, the sand, the bunker, and everything
else. As an interesting feature of what we might call golfing
physiology, I seriously suggest that players of these habits and
temperament, when they begin to work like a steam-engine in the bunker,
do not see the ball at all for the last few strokes. The next time they
indulge in their peculiar performance, let them ask themselves
immediately afterwards whether they did see it or not, and in the
majority of cases they will have to answer in the negative. When it is
over, a few impious words are uttered, the ball is picked up, and there
is a slow and gloomy march to the next tee, from which it is unlikely
that a good drive will be made. The nervous system of the misguided
golfer has been so completely upset by the recent occurrences, that he
may not recover his equanimity until several more strokes have been
played, or perhaps until the round is over and the distressing incidents
have at last passed from his mind.
This has been a long story about a thing that happens on most links
every day, but the moral of it could hardly have been emphasised
properly or adequately if it had been told in fewer words, or if the
naked truth had been wrapped up in any more agreeable terms. The moral
obviously is, that the golfer on being bunkered must concentrate his
whole mind, capabilities, and energies on getting out in one stroke, and
must resolutely refrain from attempting length at the same time, for, in
nine cases out of ten, length is impossible. There are indeed occasions
when so light a sentence has been passed by the bunker on the erring
ball that a long shot is practicable, but they are very rare, and come
in an entirely different category from the average bunkered ball, and we
will consider them in due course. On the other hand, there are times
when it is manifestly impossible even to get to the other side of the
bunker in a single stroke, as when the ball is tucked up at the foot of
a steep and perhaps overhanging cliff. Still the man must keep before
himself the fact that his main object is to get out in the fewest
strokes possible, and in a case of this sort he may be wise to play
back, particularly if it is a medal round that he is engaged upon. If he
plays back he is still in the running for his prize if his golf has been
satisfactory up to this point, for an addition of two strokes to his
score through such an accident, though a serious handicap, is seldom a
hopeless one. If he does not play back his chance of victory may
disappear entirely at this bunker. His instinct tells him that it
probably will do so. Which then is the wiser and better course to take?
Now, then, let us consider the ways and means of getting out of bunkers,
and take in our hands the most unpopular club that our bags contain. We
never look upon the niblick with any of that lingering affection which
is constantly bestowed on all the other instruments that we possess, as
we reflect upon the splendid deeds that they have performed for us on
many memorable occasions. The niblick revives only unpleasant memories,
but less than justice is done to this unfortunate club, for, given fair
treatment, it will accomplish most excellent and remunerative work in
rescuing its owner from the predicaments in which his carelessness or
bad luck in handling the others has placed him. There is little variety
in niblicks, and therefore no necessity to discourse upon their points,
for no professional is ever likely to stock a niblick for sale that is
unequal to the performance of its peculiar duties. It has rougher and
heavier work to do than any other club, and more brute force is
requisitioned in employing it than at any other time. Therefore the
shaft should be as strong as it is possible for it to be, and it should
be so stiff that it will not bend under the most severe pressure. The
head should be rather small and round, with plenty of loft upon it, and
very heavy. A light niblick is useless.
[Illustration: _PLATE LIII._ THE NIBLICK IN A BUNKER. TOP OF AN ORDINARY
STROKE WHEN IT IS INTENDED TO TAKE MUCH SAND]
[Illustration: _PLATE LIV._ "WELL OUT!" FINISH OF AN ORDINARY STROKE IN
A BUNKER WHEN MUCH SAND IS TAKEN. THE BALL MAY BE SEEN RISING ABOVE THE
BUNKER]
[Illustration: _PLATE LV._ ANOTHER BUNKER STROKE. TOP OF THE SWING WHEN
INTENDING TO TAKE THE BALL CLEANLY AND WITH A LITTLE CUT]
[Illustration: _PLATE LVI._ FINISH AFTER TAKING THE BALL CLEANLY FROM A
BUNKER]
It is difficult to advise as to the stance that should be taken for a
niblick shot in a bunker, inasmuch as it so frequently happens that this
is governed by circumstances which are quite beyond the golfer's
control. He must learn to adapt himself in the best possible manner to
the conditions in which he finds himself, and it will often happen that
he is cramped for space, he may be unable to get a proper or comfortable
place for one or both of his feet, or he may be obliged to stand with
one foot--generally the left one--considerably above the other. But when
there are none of these difficulties besetting him, it may be said that
generally the stance most suited to a stroke with the niblick is similar
to that which would be taken for a long shot with an iron, except
perhaps that the player should stand a little nearer to the ball, so
that he may be well over it while making his swing. The most important
respect in which the swing differs from that of the iron is that the
club is brought up much straighter. By this I mean that the head of the
club should not be allowed to come round quite so much, but throughout
its course should be kept as nearly as possible overhanging what we have
been calling the A line. The swing, indeed, is much more of what I call
an upright character than that of any other stroke in the game, and at
the top of it, the blade having passed over the right shoulder and the
golfer's head, the shaft should be nearly horizontal and right over the
back of the head, an example of which may be seen in Plate LIII., where
I have a fairly good lie, but am rather badly bunkered for all that,
being only a couple of feet from the base of a high and tolerably steep
bank.
If there is such a thing as an average bunker shot, this is the one, and
I am now describing the method of dealing with cases of this and similar
character. There must be no thought of hitting the ball cleanly with the
club in a case of this kind, or in any other than the most exceptional
situations or emergencies when bunkered. The club must hit the sand, and
the sand must move the ball, but the iron blade of the niblick must
hardly ever come into contact with the ball. To prevent its doing so,
and to ensure the blade getting underneath sufficiently to lift the ball
up at the very sharp angle that is necessary if it is to surmount the
obstruction in front of it, the sand should be struck at a point fully
two inches behind the ball. If the sand is exceedingly light and dry, so
that it offers very little resistance to the passage of the club, this
distance may be slightly increased, or it may be diminished if the lie
in the bunker is very heavy, consisting of gravel or clay. It is on this
point, so far behind the ball, that the eye must, of course, be sternly
and rigidly fixed, and it is a duty which the beginner frequently finds
most difficult to fulfil. In the downward swing the club should be
brought on to the spot indicated with all the speed and force of which
the golfer is capable. At other times he may have had a yearning to
press, which he has with difficulty stifled. He may make up for all
these ungratified desires by pressing now with all the strength in his
body, and the harder the better so long as he keeps his eye steadily
fixed on that point behind the ball and is sure that his muscular
efforts will not interfere with his accuracy. After all, the latter need
not be quite so fine in this case as in the many others that we have
already discussed, for an eighth of an inch one way or the other does
not much matter in the case of a niblick shot where there are two inches
of sand to plough through. Swing harder than ever on to the sand, with
the knowledge that the swing will end there, for a follow-through is not
desired and would in many cases be impossible. When the heavy blade goes
crash into the sand and blows it, and the ball with it, up into the air
as if the electric touch had been given to an explosive mine, the club
has finished its work, and when the golfer is at rest again and is
surveying the results of his labours--with his eyes, let us hope,
directed to the further side of the hazard--the blade will still remain
in the cavity that it has made in the floor of the bunker. If any
attempt were made to follow through, it is highly probable that
sufficient sand would not be taken to make the ball rise up soon enough.
However, the more one reflects upon bunkers and niblicks, the more does
one feel that the circumstances must govern the method of playing each
of these strokes, and there is no finer field for the display of the
golfer's judgment and resource than this. The next best accomplishment
to the negative one of avoiding bunkers is that of getting out again
with the least waste of strokes and distance; and, indeed, I should say
that the man who is somewhat addicted to being bunkered but invariably
makes a good recovery, is at least on level terms with another who is in
trouble not quite so frequently but who suffers terribly when he is. The
golden rule--I say it once again--is to make certain of getting out; but
now that I have sufficiently emphasised this point, I am ready to
consider those few occasions when it appears a little weak and
unsatisfactory. Certainly there are times, as we all know, when the
enemy, having had matters his own way at a hole, it will not be of the
slightest use merely to scramble out of a bunker in one stroke. The case
is so desperate that a stroke that will carry the ball for perhaps 100
or 120 yards is called for. Such a necessity does not affect my rule as
to making certain of getting out, for in practical golf one cannot take
any serious account of emergencies of this kind. But there are times
when every player must either attempt the shot that most frequently
baffles his superiors, or forthwith give up the hole, and it is not in
human nature to cave in while the faintest spark of hope remains. In
thus attempting the impossible, or the only dimly possible, we are
sometimes led even to take the brassy in a bunker. In a case of this
sort, of course, everything depends on the lie of the ball and its
distance from the face of the bunker. When it is a shallow pot bunker,
the shot is often practicable, and sometimes when one is bunkered on a
seaside course the hazard is so wide that there is time for the ball to
rise sufficiently to clear the obstruction. But the average bunker on an
inland course, say four feet high with only six feet of sand before it,
presents few such loopholes for escape. The difficulty of playing a shot
from a bunker when any club other than the niblick, such as the brassy,
is chosen with the object of obtaining length by hitting the ball clean,
is obviously increased by the rule which prohibits the grounding of the
club in addressing. To be on the safe side, the sole of the club is
often kept fully an inch and a half above the sand when the address is
being made, and this inch and a half has to be corrected down to an
eighth in the forward swing, for of all shots that must be taken
accurately this one so full of difficulty must be. In making his
correction the man is very likely to overdo it and strike the sand
before the ball, causing a sclaff, or, on the other hand, not to correct
sufficiently when the only possible result would be a topped ball and
probably a hopeless position in the hazard. It is indeed a rashly
speculative shot, and one of the most difficult imaginable. It comes off
sometimes, but it is a pure matter of chance when it does, and the lucky
player is hardly entitled to that award of merit which he may fancy he
deserves.
When the situation of the bunkered ball is unusually hopeful, and there
does really seem to be a very fair prospect of making a good long shot,
I think it generally pays best to play straight at the hazard, putting
just a little cut on the ball to help it to rise, and employing any club
that suggests itself for the purpose. I think, in such circumstances,
that it pays best to go straight for the hazard, because, if length is
urgently demanded, what is the use of playing at an angle? Again, though
there is undoubtedly an advantage gained by taking a bunker crossways,
and thus giving the ball more time to rise, the advantage is often
greatly exaggerated in the golfer's mind. When a ball is bunkered right
on the edge of the green, it is sometimes best to try to pick it up not
quite but almost cleanly with the niblick or mashie, in the hope that
one more stroke afterwards will be sufficient either to win or halve the
hole, whereas an ordinary shot with the niblick would not be likely to
succeed so well. If, after due contemplation of all the heavy risks, it
is decided to make such an attempt, the stroke should be played very
much after the fashion of the mashie approach with cut. I need hardly
say that such a shot is one of the most difficult the golfer will ever
have occasion to attempt. The ordinary cut mashie stroke is hard to
accomplish, but the cut niblick is harder still. I have already given
directions for the playing of such shots, and the rest must be left to
the golfer's daring and his judgment.