2. Fundamentals. Golf and the Senses

Every intelligent person who has played golf must have speculated on the relation between the mental and the physical aspects of the game. This is one of the fundamental problems of golf and I had early rea­son to think about it, for as already related—as soon as I had become a professional the very fact that I had become a Pro seemed to have made it impossible for me to hit a decent shot from the first tee at Meyrick Park. Why? If we could find the answer to that we should understand golf "nerves" and maybe see how to avoid them.

When we consider the make-up of a good games player we usually start with a catalogue of physical qualities, such as a good eye, steely wrists, good reach, etc. To these we may add—if we are advanced enough to be conscious of psychology—two or three purely mental qualities, such as "good nerves" and intelli­gence. For years and years I tried to strike a fair bal­ance between the qualities in the two groups, and decided at various times that golf was 50 per cent physical and 50 per cent mental, then 40 per cent/60 per cent and 80 per cent/20 per cent, and all sorts of other proportions. But I admit that however I con­sidered the matter I never felt convinced that I had found a correct answer. I already knew that we played reflex golf, and that a reflex was muscular memory, and this should have told me that any clear-cut di­vision between mental and physical was impossible. I now know why!

Of course this division of golf into separate physical and mental departments was not an idea of my own. It was the way we all thought about the game. I re­member spending one of the most stimulating eve­nings of my life listening to—and occasionally chipping in on—a debate on the light-ball, between some Ameri­cans and members of the Committee of the R. & A. Walter Hagen was there and members of the Ryder Cup team. For myself, though I enjoyed the argument immensely, I felt even at that time that it was incon­clusive; something was lacking again. I think I had got so far as to realize that the arguments advanced lacked conclusiveness because they were either too purely mental or too purely physical.

I had in fact reached the conclusion that any separa­tion of the mental and physical functions in the play­ing or teaching of golf must be artificial—because in the practical job of playing or teaching no such separa­tion is possible.

But though I had reached this conclusion and was increasingly basing my teaching on it, I found it most difficult to express the idea explicitly—even to myself. Then by one of those happy chances which do occur when you are ripe for them, I read a remarkable little book, The Use of the Self by F. Matthias Alexander.

It was the confirmation and exposition I had wanted. For here was a man with profound knowledge of psychology and physiology surveying the whole field of human activity and expressing scientifically the very truth which I had sensed, but found so diffi­cult to express, in the sphere of golf.

Professor Alexander's conclusion is that we never act purely psychologically or purely physically, but that every act is carried out in psychophysical unison. And further, that when this unison is functioning prop­erly it provides a form of conscious control which is precisely what a golfer needs.

I realized at once that this conscious control was exactly what I was already trying to teach because I recognized it as a form of control that would replace thinking. And thinking had to be replaced because I knew by experience that if your golf was dependent upon thinking it was at the mercy of your mental state. Excitement, depression, elation—any emotion could destroy you.

I had always been considered a good teacher, but I had never been satisfied because I could not teach a pupil to play exactly and consistently—independent of his mental and physical feelings and of the state of the game. And I felt that I ought to be able to teach this. And now I am able to do so, provided that the pupil is willing to work at the game on a "long term" policy.

With my broadening view of the relation between physical and mental, and the possibilities of conscious control I have definitely gained a new capacity in teaching, enabling me to build up in my pupils one control upon another, by building up feel. I build up a feel of what is right in his golf. So when he gets to the first tee in front of a gallery or is faced by a tricky shot at a critical moment in the game, mental excite­ment can no longer tie his swing up and he can make his shots normally even if his brain is befogged.

A good boxer will box on even when "out on his feet," and the good golfer should equally be able to produce his best shots even though he is five down with six to play. I had long realized the importance of this and the desirability of finding some way of insulat­ing sl golfer's shots from his mental state. I had worked out a very effective simple and satisfactory swing, but I did not know how to teach this except as a set of purely mechanical ideas.

But when I had developed the idea of control through remembered feeling, I was able to take the words "think" and "thought" out of my teaching vo­cabulary. The results were literally astounding.

And why? Not because I taught a better swine, but because my pupils learned to use their swings irre­spective of conditions and states of mind! Many of my pupils now say, "I am no longer afraid of the ball. I do not even think of it; I just swing throueh it."

That, of course, means confidence and consistency.

What do these mean in results? Well, since I began teaching on these lines my pupils at St. Cloud included Mrs. A. M. Vagliano, two handicap, Captain of the Ladies' French International team; Mme Munier (nSe Janine Gaveau), scratch, four times lady champion and International; the Duchesse d'Elkingen (nee Mile Francine Tollon), one handicap, twice lady champion and International; Mme Straus (nee Aline de Guns-bourg), scratch, once lady champion French and In­ternational; Mme Decugis, two handicap, Interna­tional; Mile Petin, two handicap, International; the Comtesse de St. Sauveur (nee Lally Vagliano), plus one, champion of France, International and British Girls Champion at seventeen.

All these ladies were gifted, intelligent, young, and keen, and they made teaching a pleasure. Also they were all under the golfing influence of the cool-headed player Mme Lacoste (nee Simone Thion de la Chaume) of whose judgment I have the highest opin­ion. Her own game is the essence of perfect mental and physical balance.

But it is not only in molding the styles of the young and talented that the idea of control by remembered feel is so invaluable in the teaching of golf. One lady who came to me for her first lesson at the age of forty had the temerity to knock the great Mme Lacoste out of the French Championship ten years later!

Now here, for those who collect coincidences, is a true story which shows an independent and extremely practical application of the ideas on which my teach­ing is based.

I was giving a lesson to a young American, a thoughtful, analytical fellow who up to that time had taught himself all the games he had played. He came to me because he could not connect what he knew he should do at golf with the physical action of doing it. So as briefly as possible I explained to him the idea of control by remembered feel. He was deeply interested, for though he had taken a course in psychology at college he had not thought of golf as one of the inter­ests in which a knowledge of the subject might help him. He saw the point, and when he had reflected on it told me this very curious story.

"When I first came to England, the traffic keeping to the left instead of to the right as it does back home nearly got me time after time. Whenever I was going to step off the sidewalk I looked to the left instead of to the right as I should have done.

"This got so dangerous that I had to take a dip into my brain-box to find a way of checking it. It wasn't any good just telling myself to look right; I had done that and promptly looked left again! So I decided that every time before stepping off a curb I would raise my right forearm and clench my fist. I reckoned it would draw my attention to the right as desired, and it did. In a few days I was cured."

Do you see the full significance of that story? Here was an intelligent fellow who knew that he should look right before stepping off the curb, but who could not do it merely by knowing that he should do it, be­cause he had been brought up to look left. Looking left had become a muscular memory with him, and in the control of actions, knowledge and thought can never equal muscular memory. Finding this so, this very intelligent young man decided to build up a new muscular memory with the sequence: edge of curb-raise right arm, clench fist—look right. And it worked.

Now here was a clear case of an effective psycho­logical-physical control being developed out of the necessities of the moment with no formal knowledge of the concept whatever.

Exactly the same development has taken place in the game of every successful golfer.

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