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Yardage Book
Recommended Reading for October/November 2001
1. Discovering Donald Ross
by Bradley S. Klein
"Interpretive biography" of the revered if underexposed architect, this exquisitely produced opus is luxuriant with photos, original drawings, maps, correspondence - all emphasizing the traditional virtues that leads to sound and even elegant design.
2. Gleanings from the Wayside
by A.W. Tillinghast
A Rosetta stone of architectural insight, the third in a lovingly assembled trilogy, honors the work and the generous spirit of one of the classic bon vivants in American golf. Little escaped the Tilly eye, from the farce of par to the aesthetics of good design. What a guy!
3. Fourteen Clubs and the Auld Claret Jug
by Norman Dabell
An equal number of modern-day caddies tell how "we" won the Open. Some rode their golfers like jockeys, others hung on for dear life. (With Seve, it was always a bit of both.)
4. A Golfer's Education
by Darren Kilfara
Study abroad takes on several meanings for the visiting Harvard scholar and Golf Digest staffer who had the good sense to take his junior year at the University of St. Andrews. The siren calls of romance and the Old Course commingle. Best of all he learns to love and honor the ground game.
5. Billy Boy
by Bud Shrake
In the match of his life, a caddie stands up, ever so politely, to Hogan. Around him swirl the elements of good fun: the sassy babe, the spoiled villain, her eccentric and filthy rich uncle, the missing love of a father - and John Bredemus, a legendary figure in Texas golf who ran with Jim Thorpe and traveled designing courses with little more than a bag of checkers.
6. The Golfer's Guide to the Meaning
of Life
by Gary Player
Contemplative and nostalgic roadmap from the game's ancient mariner, a fount of old fashioned advice. His memory and opinions remain as crisp and declarative as his step. Patience, resiliency, clarity, curiosity and talent, he lists in order of their appearance, are the essential traits for a golfer.
7. Wry Stories on the Road Hole
by Sidney L. Matthew
The train no longer runs hard by the Old Course at St. Andrews. The perilous road itself has been paved, a travesty. Still the hole beguiles from tee to green and the tales continue.
8. How I Play Golf
by Tiger Woods
Like no one else is the obvious answer.
A publishing phenomenon, this lavishly illustrated, decidedly non-revelatory oversized edition of Golf Digest will disappoint admirers. "I do curls for girls and also to build some powerful bi's," he writes. He also disdains chocolate and advocates swinging a heavy club. Thought: Will Smith plays him in the movie?
9. How to Play Links Golf
by Martin Davis
An upbeat sermon on behalf of the splendors of golf by the sea and a brief history of Turnberry bookend Scotland's Monty profiling the intricacies of golf in the cruelest and most exhilarating conditions. How long it must've taken to get those sunny days for the instructional photos one can only wonder. From the folks who brought you The Hogan Mystique.
10. Bud, Sweat & Tees
by Alan Shipnuck
The courtesy car surrealism of the PGA Tour as seen through the wide-eyed sincerity of upstart Rich Beem and intense caddie Steve Duplantis. They may be good. They're also engaging, high-strung and prone to cloying fits of personal melodrama.
NOTE: Yardage Book © appears monthly, exclusively on THR. All books listed have been reviewed elsewhere on THR in greater depth. They are informally ranked at the editor's discretion and are not based on sales, date of publication, hype, the stars, financial inducement (Ho! Ho!) or anything other than his own personal preference. Only books that have been reviewed on THR are included.
The Pleasures of Rehab
Walking with a cane, not the Fred Astaire, gay blade kind of cane but the steel, therapeutically uncool, rubber clawfoot model, I found had its advantages. A cashier at the pharmacy thanked me for waiting when the line wasn't that long. That was a first. Even better, an attractive woman stopped as I was slowly making my way down an aisle. She did a double take and seemed on the verge of saying something. She later turned dramatically before vanishing through the automatic doors. I was standing at the counter. She actually said "goodbye." Well, now. Chicks dig the cane! For several days I contemplated adding an eye patch.
The touring pro can be fiercely reticent on numerous subjects, but they will talk long and earnestly about their injuries. Elbows, wrists, knees, backs, doesn't matter, it's a sure-fire way of breaking the pregnant formality of the press conference. Scintillating as these discussions always are, talking about their injuries may constitute the pro tourist's most candid, deeply personal exchange.
For all the attention, our interest in other people's injuries is polite at best, and the golfer's pain is less dramatic than those of more brutish pastimes. Recently, I've found myself looking at the whole gamut of injury, including the inevitable body parts discussions, in a new light. At 42, it's difficult to engender sympathy for a softball-related mishap but it does give me something to talk about, not to mention the pleasant episode with the young lady.
As to whether golf constitutes a sport or a game the answer, I've come to believe, comes down to the severity of the undergarment requirements. Any activity that requires as heinous a device as an athletic supporter must be regarded as sport; any activity that places no such constricting demands on one's privates is, well, on less solid ground. I leave the Speedo to the reader's consideration. Tiger makes a point of recommending silk undergarments to retain body heat. And every Hogan fan knows that it was cashmere that sheathed the Hawk through four rounds at Carnoustie.
No one runs at you, or even growls at you at golf - something opposing lineman used to do during my snap counts; perhaps they do still. The demands as we know them, are more personally, internally inflicted, and these include the physical demands on the body. It took several days of being unable to bend down, let alone perform something as complex as a pivot or weight transfer, that opened my eyes. There was Tiger cringing on his backswing. And there was Bob Estes crediting his survival of five pro-am rounds in Las Vegas to a newfound fitness regimen. He even said he was going to eschew the ever more profitable silly season to get back into the gym to get bigger and stronger, from Clark Kent to Superman. And Notah Begay fell victim to free weights.
I'm back to getting around normally. The MRI is a disorienting and uncomfortable experience, another newfound lesson in fragility. The NFL injury reports have since taken on new meaning. I noticed I've taken to driving slower, as if I were older, frail. Someone wants to cut me off? I let them go. I take things slower now and recognize how much faster, how thoughtlessly, the world moves. That my hammy has become handy as an excuse, on and off the golf course, goes without saying.
Swing Thoughts - Volume I
Swing Thoughts - Volume II
Swing Thoughts - Volume III
Swing Thoughts - Volume IV
Swing Thoughts - Volume V
Swing Thoughts - Volume VI
Swing Thoughts - Volume VII
Swing Thoughts - Volume VIII
Swing Thoughts - Volume IX
Swing Thoughts - Volume X
Swing Thoughts - Volume XI
Swing Thoughts - Volume XII
Swing Thoughts - Volume XIII
Swing Thoughts - Volume XIV
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