The Soul of Golf

[Dark Saint Alaick]

We are told that in the downward swing "velocity of the club in the
descent must be accelerated by minute but rapid gradations." For one
who is attempting to explain the mystery of golf there could not
possibly be a worse word than "gradations." The author, in this
statement, is simply following an old and utterly obsolete notion.
There is no such thing as accelerating the speed by minute gradations.
Quoting James Braid in _Advanced Golf_, from memory, he says that you
must be "hard at it" from the very moment you start the stroke, and
even if he did not say so, any golfer possessed of common sense would
know that the mere idea of adding to the speed of his golf drive by
"steps," which is what the word "gradations" implies, would be utterly
futile. The futility of the advice is, however, emphasised when we are
told that these gradations come from "orders not issued all at once,
but one after another--also absolutely evenly and smoothly--at
intervals probably of ten-thousandths of a second. If the curves are
not precise, if a single muscle fails to respond, if the timing is in
the minutest degree irregular--the stroke is a failure. No wonder it
is difficult."

[Dark Saint Alaick]

It would indeed be no wonder that the golf drive is difficult if it
really were composed as indicated, but, as a matter of fact, nothing
of the sort takes place in the ordinary drive of a sane golfer. There
is one command issued, which is "Hit the ball." All these other things
which are supposed to be done by an incredible number of efforts of
the mind are practically performed sub-consciously, and more by habit
than by any complex mental directions. The drive in golf is not in any
respect different from numerous other strokes in numerous other games
in so far as regards the mental portion of it.

Now so far as regards the complicated system of mental telegraphy
which is claimed for golf in the production of the stroke, absolutely
the same thing happens in practically every game, with the exception
that in most other games the player is, so far as regards the
production of his stroke, at a greater disadvantage than he is in
golf, for he has nearly always a moving ball to play at and much less
time wherein to decide how to play his stroke. In golf he has plenty
of time to make up his mind as to how he will play his stroke, and the
operation, to the normal golfer, in so far as regards the mental
portion of it, is extremely simple. His trouble is that he has so much
nonsense of this nature to contend with, so much false instruction to
fight. If he were given a correct idea of the stroke he would have no
difficulty whatever with regard to his "gradations."

Braid has explicitly stated that this idea of gradually and
consciously increasing the speed is a mistake, and I have always been
especially severe on it as one of the pronounced fallacies of golf. I
shall deal with it more fully in my chapter on "The Fallacies of
Golf," but I may here quote Braid, who says:

[Dark Saint Alaick]

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 at its
quickest rate. The longer the force applied to the down
swing, the greater do the speed and 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 increasing 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 top, and the
harder you start the greater will be the momentum of the club
when the ball is reached.

Now this is emphatic enough, but it should not be necessary to quote
James Braid to impress upon any golfer of average intelligence that
this idea of consciously increasing his speed gradually as he comes
down to the ball is the most infantile and injurious tuition which it
is possible to impart. To encumber any player's mind with such utterly
stupid doctrine is most reprehensible.

As an illustration of how little the author of this book understands
the true character of the golf stroke, I may quote him again. In a
letter recently published over his signature he says: "Mind and
muscle--both should act freely and easily _till the moment of impact_;
then, perhaps, the mind should be concentrated, as the muscles must be
contracted, to the utmost." Now this is such utterly fallacious
doctrine that I certainly should not notice it were it not that this
book, on account of its somewhat original treatment of the subject,
has obtained a degree of notice to which I do not consider it
entitled.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

This is so far from what really takes place in the drive at golf that
I must quote James Braid from _Advanced Golf_, page 56. It will be
seen from Braid's remarks that the whole idea of the golf drive from
the moment the club starts on its downward course until the ball has
been hit is that of supreme tension and concentration. It seems almost
a work of supererogation to deal with a matter of such apparent
simplicity, but when one sees matter such as that quoted published in
responsible papers, one realises that in the interests of the game it
is necessary to deal with statements which really, in themselves,
ought to carry their own refutation.

Braid says: "Look to it also that the right elbow is kept well in
control and fairly close to the side in order to promote tension at
the top." Again at page 57 he says: "Now for the return journey. Here
at the top the arms, wrists, body--all are in their highest state of
tension. Every muscle and joint in the human golfing machinery is
wound up to the highest point, and there is a feeling that something
must be let go at once." On page 58 we read again: "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." At page 60
again: "Keep the body and wrist under tension a little longer." At
page 61 we read:

Then comes the moment of impact. Crack! Everything is let
loose, and round comes the body immediately the ball is
struck, and goes slightly forward until the player is facing
the line of flight.

If the tension has been properly held, all this will come
quite easily and naturally. The time for the tension is over
and it is allowed its sudden and complete expansion and quick
collapse. That is the whole secret of the thing--the bursting
of the tension at the proper moment--and really there is very
little to be said in enlargement of the idea.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Now here it will be seen that Braid's idea, which is undoubtedly the
correct one, is that the golfer's muscles, and it follows naturally
also his mind, are in a state of supreme tension until the moment of
impact, _when that tension is released_. On the other hand, we are
told by our psychologist that the moment which Braid says is the
moment of the collapse of the tension is the moment for introducing
tension and concentration. The statement is, of course, an extremely
ridiculous one, especially coming, as it does, from one who presumes
to deal with the psychology and physiology of golf, because nothing
could be further from the truth than the statement made by him. It
proves at the very outset that he has not a correct idea of the golf
stroke, and therefore any attempt by him to explain the psychology of
golf, if golf may be said to have such a thing as a psychology, is
worthless.

Our author has also explained how, in the downward swing, the speed of
the club is increased by extremely minute gradations. I have elsewhere
referred to this fallacy, but the matter is so important that I shall
quote James Braid again here. At page 57 Braid says:

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 at the
quickest rate. The longer the force applied to the down swing
the greater does the speed of 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 increasing his speed gradually,
but getting as much of it as he possibly can right from the
top.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

I am very glad indeed to be able to quote Braid to this effect, for if
we may accept his statement on this matter as authoritative, it
completely refutes one of the greatest and stupidest fallacies in
golf, which is this particular notion of gradually increasing one's
speed by any conscious effort of muscular regulation. Now if Braid's
statement with regard to the muscular work in the downward portion of
the drive is correct, it follows naturally that the explanation of the
"mystery of golf" offered by the author is merely an explanation of a
mystery which he has evolved from the innermost recesses of his
fertile imagination; but it is needless for me to say that unless such
an idea as this is absolutely killed, it would have a most pernicious
effect upon the game of anyone who came within its influence.

It may seem, perhaps, that I attach too much importance to the writing
of a gentleman who describes himself as "a duffer." It is not so. No
one knows better than I do the influence of printed matter. I have
lived amongst print and printers and newspapers for very many years,
and needless to say I know as well as any man that not everything
which one sees in print is true, but the remarkable thing about the
printed word is that even with one who is absolutely hardened and
inured to the vagaries and extravagances and inaccuracies of those who
handle type, the printed word carries a certain amount of weight.

We can easily understand, then, that to those who are not so educated
the printed word is much more authoritative. Therefore, even if the
circulation of a book or a paper may be very little, it is always
worth the while of one who has the interests of the game at heart to
do his best not only to scotch, but absolutely to kill false and
pernicious teaching of this nature, for the simple reason that even if
a book circulates but a hundred copies, or a newspaper two hundred and
fifty, which is giving them both a remarkably small circulation, it is
impossible, or at least extremely improbable, that any man will be
able, by his influence, _to follow each copy of that book or that
newspaper_. There is a great fundamental truth underlying this
statement. If one gives a lie a day's start, it takes a terrible lot
of catching. This is particularly so in connection with printed
matter, and I have had some very remarkable illustrations of the fact.
So strongly, indeed, do I realise this fact, that although I believe
that I am as impervious to adverse criticism as any one, I will never,
if I can prevent it, allow criticism of that nature which I consider
inimical to the interests of any subject with which I am dealing, to
get the slightest possible start. Indeed, I have, on occasions,
carried this principle still further, and when I have known that
matter was to appear which I considered of a nature calculated to
produce wrong thought in connection with a certain subject I have
taken means to see that it did not appear.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

It will be readily understood that I am not now referring to matters
of personal criticism. I refer particularly to matters of doctrine
published and circulated, even in the smallest way. If, for the sake
of argument, the paper which spreads that false doctrine circulates
only twenty copies, _one cannot follow every copy_, and to do one's
work thoroughly and effectively it would be necessary to follow every
copy of that paper in order to counteract the pernicious influence
which it might otherwise exercise. Taking this view of the effect of
printed matter, it should be apparent that I consider the time devoted
to refuting injurious and false teaching well spent.

In the attempted explanation of the mystery of golf there are some
amazing statements which tend to show clearly that the author of that
work has not that intimate knowledge of sport generally which is
absolutely essential to any man who would even essay satisfactorily to
do what the author is trying to do. Let us examine, for instance, such
a statement as this: "Indeed, the difficulties of golf are innumerable
and incalculable. Take, for example, that simple rule 'Keep your eye
on the ball.' It is unheard of in tennis; it is needless in cricket;
in golf it is iterated and reiterated times without number, and
infringed as often as repeated." Can anyone imagine a more wonderful
statement than this? In tennis, by which from subsequent remarks it is
clear that the author means lawn-tennis, and also indeed in tennis, it
is, of course, a fundamental rule that one must keep one's eye on the
ball. It is repeatedly drilled into every player, and even the most
experienced players by neglecting it sacrifice points.

Lifting one's eye is one of the most prolific causes of missed smashes
and ordinary volleys, while the half volleys which are missed through
not attempting to follow out this universal rule are innumerable. We
are told that it is "unheard of in cricket." This indeed is a
marvellous statement. No coach who knows his duty in tennis,
lawn-tennis, cricket, racquets, or in fact any game where one plays at
a moving ball, could possibly have gone more than about half a dozen
lessons, if so many, without impressing upon his pupil the extreme
importance of endeavouring to watch the ball until the moment of
impact. This, of course, is a counsel of perfection, and is not often
perfectly carried out, for various reasons which I shall deal with in
my chapter on "The Function of the Eyes."

[Dark Saint Alaick]

For one who has attempted a critical analysis of the psychology of
golf the author makes some wonderful statements. Speaking about
"looking" _versus_ "thinking," and keeping one's eye on the ball, the
author says: "As a matter of fact, instead of _looking_, you are
_thinking_, and to _think_, when you ought to _play_, is the madness
of mania." It should be fairly obvious to anyone who does not even
profess to be capable of analysing the emotions of a golfer that to
look it is necessary to be thinking--to be thinking about looking, in
fact; that it would be impossible to look without thinking; that
indeed the looking is dependent upon the thinking, or, as our author
would probably put it, he must will to look--not only must he will to
look, but he must will to hit. Those are the two important things for
him to will--to look and to hit. Now those things cannot be done
without thinking, and yet we are told that to _think_ when you ought
to _play_ is "the madness of mania."

The author goes on to give what he calls a very "simple and anatomical
reason" for this inability to see one's ball when one is thinking
instead of looking. He says:

Everybody has heard the phrase "a vacant stare." Well, there
actually is such a thing as a vacant stare. When one's
thoughts are absorbed in something other than the object
looked at, the eyes lose their convergence--that is to say,
instead of the two eyeballs being turned inwards and focussed
on the thing, they look straight outwards into space, with
the result, of course, that the thing looked at is seen
indistinctly. I am convinced that this happens to many a
grown-up golfer. He thinks he is looking at his ball, but as
a matter of fact he is thinking about looking at his ball (a
very different affair), or about how he is going to hit it,
or any one of a hundred other things; and, his mind being
taken off that supreme duty of doing nothing but _look_, the
muscles of the eye are relaxed, the eyeballs resume their
natural position and stare vacantly into space.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

It will probably not be news to most of us that there is such a thing
as "a vacant stare." We probably remember many occasions when, "lost
in thought," our eyes have lost their convergence, but it will indeed
be news to most of us that it is the supreme duty of the eyes to do
nothing but _look_.

We are now face to face with this fact according to this analysis. The
author quotes the great psychologist, Höffding, as saying, "We must
will to see, in order to see aright." We now, by a natural and
logical process of reasoning, have the golfer settled at his ball, his
address duly taken, his eye fixed on the ball, and he is in the act of
"willing" to see as hard as he can. So far so good. Let us presume
that he _is_ seeing. Now we are told that to think when he ought to
play is the madness of mania. We must presume that it will now be
impossible to proceed with his stroke unless he "wills" to move. How
will he "will to move" without thinking? If anybody can explain to me
how a golfer can play a stroke without willing to hit as well as to
look, I shall indeed consider that he has explained at least one
mystery in golf.

We are told that

... if during that minute interval of time which elapses
between the commencement of the upward swing of the club and
its impact with the ball, the golfer allows any one single
sensation, or idea to divert his attention--consciously or
unconsciously--from the little round image on his retina, he
does not properly "perceive" that ball; and of course, by
consequence, does not properly hit it.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Notwithstanding this statement, we see that the author tries to
implant in the mind of the golfer the idea that during his downward
stroke arms and hands are receiving innumerable orders "at intervals
probably of tens of thousandths of a second," and that at the moment
of impact with the ball the mind has to become suddenly concentrated
and the muscles suddenly contracted. He surely will allow that in this
advice he is trying to impart at least one single sensation or idea
which is sufficient to ensure that he will "not properly perceive that
ball, and of course, by consequence, that he will not properly hit
it."

Here is another paragraph worthy of consideration: "But if one tautens
any of the muscles necessary for the stroke, the stroke is spoiled."
I think I have already quoted James Braid on the subject of tension in
the drive, to show that this statement is utterly fallacious, and that
without very considerable tautening of the muscles it would be
impossible to produce a golf drive worthy of the name.

The strangest portions of this alleged explanation of the mystery of
golf are always when it comes to the question of practical golf. Let
us consider briefly such a statement as the following:--

Both sets of stimuli must be intimately and intricately
combined throughout the whole course of the swing; the wrists
must ease off at the top and tauten at the end. The left knee
must be loose at the beginning, and firm at the finish, and
the change from one to the other must be as deftly and
gently, yet swiftly wrought, as a crescendo passage from
pianissimo to fortissimo on a fiddle.