THE PINEHUBST OUTLOOK
PAGE 4
That Last Bang at the Pin
-l-Vja. Mia
By Sandy McNiblick
EH
LI
6
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Name
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" Wonder what a -wooden Indian thinks
about?" Wonder what the Smith
Brothers think about?" These captions
and the like have graced certain car
toons done by Briggs. They went big.
This cartoonist happens to be an ardent
golfer. We have often wondered if he
or anybody else, even the player himself
could analyze what a golfer thinks about
who steps up to his last approach shot in
a championship with a chance at the
title.
Of all the shots in a close champion
ship that last bang at the pin carries the
most thrill. It 's the last test. It comes
at the end of a terrific nerve strain.
Superhuman play all the way to this
shot may be wiped out at the flick of an
iron with a poor shot here.
To a golf scribe who trundles after
the knickered satellites on many fields
through many championships, dozens of
settings for that last approach, which
must he right, occur.
There was that red-hot sizzling finish
of the 1920 North and South open cham
pionship at Pinehurst. Right doAvn to
that very last approach iron the eigh
teenth, or 72d green on No. 2 course Clar
ence Hackney, Fred McLeod and Walter
Hageu all had a free shot at the title.
Hackney, pro at Atlantic City, led the
procession. A terrific gale right in his
toeth fairly shoved against his round,
brick-red features as he socked out a long
skimmer straight down the line from the
tee. He knew what they were doing be
hind him and figured he had to get his
4. It meant catching the green with his
second, a terrific shot at that minute in
that gale. Smiling and confident, nay
cocky, up to now, the twinkle fled from
Hackney's eyes and they turned hard as
granite as he braced against the wind.
He was having some of those thoughts.
The shot travelled on a line. There
was applause. It had gotten there all
right but was over. He took a 5. It
led the field when along came diminu
tive Freddy McLeod. The crowd was
gathering to be in there at the finish.
McLeod had a 4 to be out in front and
his wood to get there was pretty as it
came, just a speck of white against the
blue, slowly rising to drop with a thud
and roll close to the sand green. He
got his 4.
Last came Hagen. Every man, woman
and child on the course was in his train
or packed around the green as he stood
to the task of crashing his ball through
the wind up to the green. A 4 would
win, a 5 would tie.
"A cinch either way," they mur
mured. But was Hagen thinking , any
such consoling thoughts as that. The
stress of the moment must have played
havoe even in his experienced and oaken
heart for lie slapped his approach ex
actly and unanimously into the trap at
the green's edge. He was out of it. He
took a 6.
Then there was the national open
championship later on at Toledo. Never
in the history of this event has there
been such a finish. To the turn of the
last eighteen holes they-had been eagerly
bunched but in to the stretch of the last
nine they began to string out. It
looked, to be all Vardon with a fistful of
strokes to the good and a birdie on the
64th. It was to be the grand master's
crowning triumph of a superb reign on
the links. But the unaccountable hap
pened. Vardon ''blew up" and his
partner, Jim Barnes, began to make up
strokes so fast on Vardon that it looked
almost as though it would lie "Long
Jim."
But Ted Ray was hitting it up in his
last round. So Avere Leo Diegel, Jock
Hutchison, and Jack Burke. It was a
dizzy situation. In platoons they tore
from one group to the other, a gallery
of frenzied fans. Finally they swarmed
to the home hole. Here the titanic
battle for supremacy would be settled.
They saw Jack Burke lead the field
with 296 to be tied by Harry Vardon,
steadying down at the last. A long
drive at this hole was followed by a
short pitch, a shot requiring the maxi
mum of finesse to a green set up like a
pie plate.
Five in all had a chance at the title.
Ted Bay had the stroke to spare and
went into the lead unemotionally out
wardly. Leo Diegel came down there before
them all. His pitch up had to be dead.
A birdie 3 would give him a tie with Bay.
They groaned aloud as he just got on.
A 4 for him.
Came Jock Hutchison, the last hope.
They almost prayed for that pitch of
his to bring up dead. Was human nature
equal to the miracle? What was he
thinking about?
Not a man in the great gallery envied
him as he yanked at his cap and faced
what had to be a miracle shot. It
wasn't. The title had gone far, far
away. Ted Raj' stood looking on. "Gosh,
ain't it hot?" he whispered.
Quoth Cupid, "No more capers!
Well, I have had my flnu;;
I see by all the papeis,
Disarmament's the thiiig.
"The world is tired of tooting,
And tired of war's alarms,
Tlie world gives up its shoot vg,
The world lays down its arms-.
"The thought my spirit harrows,
But I'm a patriot, so,
I'm going to scrap my arrows,
I ;m going to junk my bow.
"And when I drop the curtain,
When all my tactics cease,
Of one thing I am certain,
Some people will have peace!"
Carolyn Wells.