WATCHING Sergio Garcia lurching from bad to worse on the inward half of his third round in the Madrid Masters on Saturday was deeply disturbing. It was almost inconceivable that this highly gifted golfer could get into such a mess. The inevitable question presented itself: if it can happen to him, what hope is there for the rest of us, the ones for whom practically every shot played is a nerve-jangling journey into the unknown? Members of the lower golfing orders at least have the consolation
It was interesting to note that the advice emanating from the TV commentary box was, for the most part, much the same useless stuff as is dished out to the struggling masses. Garcia was advised to forget the missed short putt, put it behind him, forg
e on to the next tee and attack the upcoming hole with not a negative thought in mind. Fat chance. Tiger Woods does it more often than most, but even he can't do it all the time. It's astonishing how often basic guidelines in golf seem so simple, yet are the most difficult to follow.
As a shanker of many years standing, I know from personal experience how hard it is to avoid following one shank with another. There's no point in my telling myself it's not going to happen, for I've long since stopped listening to myself and once the germ's in there, lurking in the mind, it's in there and it will lurk until it's good and ready to move out. In the bad times, I've seen my shank settle in for the season and no amount of willpower or heavy sedation would shift it. If it hadn't been for my Jerry Barber Golden Touch wedge, I'd have been in a place of care years ago.
That, however, is what might be termed a specialised area. On the general front – duffing, topping, slicing, hooking and so forth – golfers are often advised to relax. To be fair, I'm sure it does work and I would do it if I could, but no-one has yet explained how exactly golfers are supposed to relax at the very moment they are preparing to play a shot which, for whatever reason, has been beyond them for weeks or perhaps, in extreme cases, lifetimes. At such moments, knuckles tend to whiten on grips, spots swim before the eyes and even breathing becomes a lost art. "Just relax," the pro will croon on the practice ground, while before him some demoralised wretch goes into another tension-fuelled convulsion.
Swinging slowly is, as far as I am concerned, one of the most difficult things to do. Of course, it's a tip usually offered when the golfer is swinging at speeds not usually achieved without the accompaniment of sonic bangs. When I'm in such a state, I find it almost impossible to do anything about it. That is, I can slow the swing, but when I do, very little happens in terms of hitting the golf ball. Not that much happens when going at full throttle, but at least then you feel you're making an effort and therein lies the rub, for it's making the effort that does the damage. This is known as a no-win situation and golfers finding themselves caught up in one would be better advised to go to the pictures.
The trouble is that there's an overwhelming spread of opinion on matters of golfing technique. Sam Snead, for instance, a man with a swing which brought tears to the ducts, was of the opinion that the game should be played as simply and naturally as possible. In his book, "Natural Golf," (circa early 1950s), Snead says of some of his pupils that they were so besotted with theory that "if some of them tried to bring a fork up to their mouths the way they try to take a club on the backswing, they would starve to death."
Snead's distinguished sparring partner, Ben Hogan, takes a somewhat different line. For instance, in his book, "The Modern Fundamentals of Golf," he considers the turning of the hips and says: "The contracted muscles of the left hip and the muscles along the inside of the left thigh start to spin the left hip around to the left. At one and the same time, the muscles of the right hip and the muscles of the right thigh – both the inside and the powerful outside thigh muscles – start to move the right hip forward." For those still standing after mastering all this, there's plenty more where that came from.
So we have two of the all-time greats apparently poles apart on their approach to the game. Snead admitted he averted his eyes when Hogan was swinging lest his own rhythm be disturbed, which raises yet another question: how did they play together so often without one of them having a nervous breakdown?
