The machine consists of two separate weighing-scales. The platforms scarcely move. On each side of the player will be seen a dial, which registers the weight on the leg at any portion of the swing. Behind the player is an upright standard to which two arms are attached. One touches the player at the hips, the other at his neck. Neither interferes with his swing. A scale plate on each lever records any movement backward; that is, away from the hole. Sherlock started with his weight even, but found, as shown above, that the main portion of it goes to the left. One notes that his hips have fallen forward toward the hole, or away from the hip register. The tremendous value of this photograph is that it shows most clearly where the weight goes at the top of the swing; it also shows how Sherlock uses his left foot and knee to get a solid base for the leg, which sustains most of the weight. See the breadth and solidity of his grip with the left foot, and note most carefully he bends his knee forward, and scarcely at all sidewise. His foot is flat on the earth across the toes, and the heel is slightly raised. In considering this matter, we must remember that Braid himself admits that he does not know where the wrists come into the drive. We need not wonder that Braid cannot describe the action of the wrists at the time he says they come into the stroke, for, as a matter of practical golf and indisputable fact, at that period in the swing there is no wrist ac tion whatever. If one has any doubt of this, one needs only to look at the photographs of Braid in "Advanced Golf," showing how he plays for a pull and a slice respectively. They are posed pictures, but they are evidently Braid's idea of the impact, and they are exactly the same as the address. Now, Braid says that he has never been able to determine exactly where the wrists do their work. Many others besides Braid have failed at the same task; yet it is quite simple. The wrists do the most important part of their work early in the swing, when the weight of the club and the strain of developing the speed fall across them in the way they bend least. The action, which is mistaken by Braid, and indeed by nearly all golf-writers, for wrist work is merely the natural "roll" of the forearms as they turn over on their way back to the ball, even as they turned or "rolled" away from the ball. The main factor in producing the speed of the blow in the golf drive is undoubtedly, I think, the unflexing of the rightelbow joint. The wrists at the moment of impact should be, and generally are, in almost the same position as at the moment of address, except that they are braced tightly, in bringing the club down, to withstand the shock of impact. Were it otherwise, the face of the club would never return to the ball as it left it, and all accuracy would be destroyed. We must remember that another cherished fallacy of the great golfers, to which James Braid subscribes, is that the golf drive is a sweep and not a hit. Can any one explain how it is possible to introduce into the middle of a very long sweep three feet of "whip-like snap," and yet preserve the rhythm of the swing, or "sweep"? Braid says, "It seems to be a sort of flick." Now, Braid has told us the golf drive is a sweep, not a hit, and that the ball is swept away; but if anything going through the air with a "whip-like snap," or "a sort of flick," encounters anything else, the object arresting the blow would be much inclined to call it a hit. This is the quagmire of doubt and contradiction in which the student finds himself floundering if he follows the teaching of the leading players; so if he will get to the heart of the game, he must shed another fetish, and understand that, except as indicated above, his wrists have finished their "work" long before they have got anywhere near the ball. We have dealt with several of the most harmful and pronounced delusions of golfers, with those which offer really the greatest hindrance to the progress of the golfer, but there are still many great errors which remain to be discussed. We have seen that the weight at the top of the swing is mainly on the left leg. Nearly all golf-books and most professionals tell the golfer to pivot on the side of his left foot, and to bend his left leg inward toward the other leg. This is rank bad advice, and quite unsound golf. The pivoting should be done so that the weight is distributed from the ball of the big toe right across the front portion of the foot, and the weight should not be borne by the inner side of the foot. It makes the base of the golf drive far too unstable for a stroke which demands such accuracy; also the bend of the knee should be more forward toward the ball than inward toward the other leg. The knee was made to bend in the former way, but was never intended for use as one is generally instructed. These are two points of the very greatest importance. I may say that both Harry Vardon and James Sherlock use the method of carrying the weight at the top of the stroke indicated by me. "Slow-back" is one of the hoariest of the many hoary old cries of the links. It may be dismissed by saying that it is very much exaggerated to-day. It is not necessary to go back any more slowly than one has to in order to avoid having to fight undue force at the top of the stroke. Short of that one can go back in reason as quickly as one feels inclined to do. Indeed, if one is naturally a quick player, it is a mistake to endeavor to make one's upward swing slow. One is often told to keep one's eye not only on the ball, but actually on a place where it was for some seconds after the ball has gone. This is another fallacy, for keeping the head still means at least arresting the follow through of the right. shoulder and throwing the whole mechan'ism of the drive out of gear. It will thus be seen that in view of the current mass of false tuition it is only by a sensible and practical course of elimination that a player may nowadays come to the soul of golf. He must winnow out the sound grain from the enormous pile of chaff. He must earnestly consider the main points, the salient features, of the game, and decide for himself whether he will continue to be led away by unnatural nonsense coupled with great names, which must always be a bar to real knowledge, T last that red orb drops away; there goes A last that red or ther The ringing of your sacristan, Señor! Those arabesques. Methought you found our songs Of Crete too sad the other day; perchance As for myself, I choose severer chants, Remember, Don Andrés, I am "the Greek"; Or two for converse, some good monk returned From India or the lands of heretics With stories of strange tortures, beasts, and fruits, Is marked with Christ's own wounds of hands and feet, To stroll with Don Diego and his group Discussing the last treasure-trove from Greece, I'll have them fetch it on the terrace here; So play Manrique's song, "The Penalties. The Absent Know." There, lads; now turn it round. Don Andrés: Santisima! but 't is a miracle! Gonzálo in his Flemish steel; the saints, Augustine, Stephen, in their cloth of gold, Come down from heaven to lay him in the tomb; The bishop silver-bearded like a star; And Stephen with his amber-cherry cheeks; And I with book and cope of requiem! Our Pedro Ruiz surpliced; and our cross! Our caballeros, too! How pleased they 'll be To live forever pictured in our church! |