Goodbye, Shinnecock; Hello, Pebble Beach

The last putt dropped in the 2026 U.S. Open at Shinnecock Hills about 30 minutes before I started typing this story, and it had been a day. Wyndham Clark, the 2024 U.S. Open champion at Los Angeles Country Club, notched up a wire-to-wire win last Sunday that nevertheless provided plenty of drama in the final round.

I’ll admit, I was nodding off on my sofa mid-round on Saturday, but Sunday’s final round kept me interested. And while Clark is not my favorite player on the circuit, he opened the tournament with a blistering six-under 64 and gutted out a win despite carding a three-over 73 in the final. Chasing down a six-shot lead going into the final round is a tall order, and neither World #1 Scottie Scheffler nor (eventual) repeat U.S. Open runner-up Sam Burns – who turned in a challenging 3-under 67 (after heartbreaking missed birdie putts on 17 and 18) – were ultimately able to take Clark down.

But enough about history; I’m here to talk about the future, and the future of the U.S. Open (at least in 2027) is Pebble Beach.

The ninth hole at Pebble Beach affords the golfer a sweeping view along Carmel Beach. (Image by author)

I am an unrepentant aficionado of Pebble Beach Golf Links. As a kid in nearby Salinas, I grew up watching the Crosby Clambake on TV despite the fact that I didn’t play golf, and didn’t even know anyone who did until I was 13 or 14 years old. I was privileged to cover the AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am in person eleven years in a row, as well as the Champions Tour event that has been held at Pebble under different names, with different title sponsors; and I had a seat in the media center there for the 2019 U.S. Open.

My first thought on the Open returning to Pebble Beach after its turn at Shinnecock is relief; relief that we will once again be seeing the best in the world playing for the prize at a course that doesn’t look like a desolate moonscape, especially after four days of tournament galleries flattening dead-straw pathways between the fairways; that we will be seeing the U.S. Open played at a course with trees; a course with scenery.

The California coast from the Monterey Peninsula southward to Morro Bay is a majestic sweep of crashing waves washing rocky beaches that lie at the feet of the rugged slopes of the Coast Range mountains, and Carmel Bay – where the Pebble Beach property hugs the coastline – is arguably the jewel of the region.

Of course scenery isn’t the only story – despite the jibes of naysayers who say the inland holes are pedestrian and uninteresting, and that only the ocean holes have anything to offer (1), Pebble Beach is so revered by the USGA that in 2022 it was selected as the third “anchor site” for the U.S. Open, joining Pine Valley and Oakmont in that honor.

Pebble Beach has the distinction of being the first public course to host the U.S. Open (in 1972), when it further cemented its place in U.S. Open history with Jack Nicklaus’ famous off-the-flagstick 1-iron at the par-3 17th hole. Ten years later Tom Watson produced another memorable moment at the 17th hole when, lying 4-under after a bogey at 16, and with Jack Nicklaus already in the clubhouse at 4-under, he chipped in from deep rough left of the green at 17 and followed it up with another birdie at 18 to nip the Golden Bear for the win.

Perhaps most notable of all U.S Opens at Pebble Beach was the 2000 tournament, the fourth of Pebble’s eventual six (to date), when 24-year-old Tiger Woods, at the height of his powers, dominated the field, winning by an unheard-of fifteen strokes.

With its pedigree of six U.S. Opens (with four more to come in the next twenty years), five U.S. Amateurs, and other championships (PGA Championship – 1977; U.S. Women’s Amateur – 1948; and U.S. Women’s Open – 2023, with three more to come), Pebble Beach Golf Links is deserving of its place as a star in the firmament of championship golf, and golf fans the world over should be excited for every opportunity to see the best and brightest contend across this storied landscape.

1 (Most of then have never played the course, or in some cases, I’ll wager, even set foot on the property.)

Book Review: “The Golf 100”, by Michael Arkrush ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

Michael Arkrush is a sportswriter with more than a dozen books to his credit, but one who was unfamiliar to me before this title came to my attention. His previous books have focused largely on either boxing, basketball, or coaching. He does have four previous books concerning golf, but I have only read one: Getting Up and Down: My 60 Years in Golf – an autobiography of Ken Venturi that he cowrote with Venturi, and it wasn’t until I looked up his back list that I realized that he was associated with that title.

From the first page of The Golf 100 I realized that I had been missing out. Arkrush is a writer with a casual but effective voice who writes with a touch of bantering humor.

The Golf 100, by Michael Arkrush, is full to the brim with informative
biographical sketches about one hundred of the top golfers of all time.

He set himself quite a job – as the author himself acknowledges, ranking the Top 100 golfers of all time is not so much a tough task as an impossible one, and the content of this book is sure to elicit plenty of questions and disagreement over drinks at the 19th Hole of any golf course frequented by literarily or historically inclined golfers (1).

There’s no arguing, in my mind, with the Top 10 (though if he hadn’t ranked Ben Hogan within the Top 5 I might have found myself firing off a strongly worded letter…), or even the Top 20. The further down the list one goes the more room there is for argument, but in reality, the further down the list you go the less it matters – if you are prepared to argue about the relative placement of Leo Diegel and Harold Hilton in the list of the Top 100 Golfers of All Time you should probably look for a different hobby.

Many of the names found in the bottom fifty places of the list may be unfamiliar to all but very dedicated students of the game’s history – some of the names were vaguely known to me but I couldn’t have told you much about their accomplishments before reading this book. And therein lies the raison d’être of Mr Arkrush’s efforts – the value in this books lies less in the actual ranking of golfers than it does in identifying the lesser-known personalities on the list and giving a quick sketch of their careers and accomplishments.

Quick sketch is the operative word here. The author gets through the list of 100 names in a little over 350 pages. Most of the listings range in length from three to a little over four pages; Tiger Woods rates six and a bit, and Jack Nicklaus, eight pages. Frankly there’s sometimes not a lot to say about the golfers in the lower ranks, but there is value in what the author does include, for example: John McDermott, #100, the 1911 U.S. Open winner, suffered a breakdown a few years later and spent most of his life in mental institutions; or Larry Nelson, #89, a self-taught golfer who hadn’t even picked up a club before he turned 21, taking up the game after returning from a tour as an infantry squad leader in Viet Nam. Nelson won the 1983 U.S. Open at Oakmont, closing with two under-par rounds and clinching the win over Tom Watson with a 60-foot putt that must have looked a lot like the putt that recently clinched the 2025 U.S. Open for J.J. Spaun.

Argue as you might about their places on the list, every golfer in this book deserves mention, and each has an interesting story attached to their name.

I could quibble over the structure of many of the short biographical sketches that make up this book; Arkrush sometimes shows a disorienting tendency to work through events that occurred later in the subject’s career, then jump back to formative events from their early life. He also sometimes skims over details that beg for another sentence or two of explanation and then leaves the reader hanging – for example, he mentions that Bay Area golf star Juli Inkster borrowed clubs from Patti Sheehan to play, and win, the 1981 U.S. Women’s Amateur (her second of three in a row), but doesn’t mention why. A bit of research (maybe a phone call?) and a couple of lines added to that section could have added a neat little anecdote to the story.

So, this book isn’t perfect, but it is really, really good, standing up on its own and also as a gateway to further reading for the history-minded golfer whose interest is piqued by the short sketches it presents; the three-page bibliography is a good start on further exploration for the curious reader. Father’s Day may have come and gone already this year, but for the golfer with a late-in-the-year birthday, or as a Christmas gift, this book is a serious contender for the gift list.

1) Given the opportunity, I would like to have a talk with Arkrush about the non-inclusion of Bay Area pro George Archer, the 1969 Masters winner who struggled with a learning impairment that left him unable to read any but the simplest sentences; he could only write his own name.

A look back at a classic by Michael Bamberger, “Men in Green” ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Just today I learned that one of my favorite golf writers, Michael Bamberger, has a new book coming out in March. The new book, The Ball in the Air, is being described as “an exhilarating love letter to the amateur game as it’s played—and lived—by the rest of us.” I am going to do my best to get hold of a copy of the new book to read and review here at Will o'the Glen on Golf, but in the meantime I would like to post a review that I wrote for his 2015 release Men in Green, posted to my former online outlet, Examiner.com, which went dark in 2016 (taking four years of my content with it, unfortunately.)

So here it is, my review of Michael Bamberger’s 2015 book, Men in Green:

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One night at dinner during the 2012 Ryder Cup matches at Medinah Golf Club outside Chicago, Michael Bamberger, a senior writer for Sports Illustrated, wrote down a two-column list naming 18 Americans – 17 men and one woman – who are legends in the world of golf. All 18 are associated with the game in the period from the mid-1950s through the 1970s, the years when golf was maturing into the big-money sport it has become. Out of that list came a quest, of sorts; a plan to track down as many of those 18 as he could and ask them a few simple questions – “What was it like?”, “Who did you hang with?”, “How does then look to you now?”

Drawn to golf in the late 1970s as a teenager growing up in a small town on Long Island, Bamberger’s formative years in the game were populated by the names on that list he drew up in Chicago: Palmer, Nicklaus, Watson, Venturi, Crenshaw – just to name a few. So, inspired by the baseball classic The Boys of Summer, Bamberger took up the challenge posed by his list of names, crisscrossing the United States over the next couple of years to talk to as many of the “legends” as he could. 

Out of his travels came the book Men in Green, in my opinion one of the finest works of golf-related non-fiction to be published in many years. His quest led him down paths he never anticipated traveling when he began, raising questions he couldn’t have known would arise, and from those paths and out of those questions came revelations about the names on the list, and himself, that will resonate with readers who grew up in the game in those years, as Bamberger did. 

In keeping with his position in the game “The King”, Arnold Palmer, opens and closes Bamberger’s physical and temporal journey through the landscape of golf’s mid-20th-century heyday. Along the way, Bamberger checks in with the next-biggest name from the period, Jack Nicklaus, as well as Tom Watson, Ken Venturi (just weeks before his death), Hale Irwin, and Curtis Strange – all names off the “Living Legends” side of his original list. Accompanying him on many of these visits is his friend, and a name off the “Secret Legends” side of the roster, Mike Donald, a long-time PGA Tour and Champions Tour pro. Donald is a veteran of the Tours whose biggest claim to fame among the golfing public is his narrow loss to Hale Irwin in the 1990 U.S. Open.

The strength of Men in Green, aside from the depth that comes from Bamberger’s whole-hearted investment in the game of golf, is the intimate, personal-history glimpses it affords the reader, glimpses into the PGA Tour in the Palmer-Nicklaus-Watson era – pre-Tiger – and the interconnections between the players, caddies, golf writers, and even officials, of those times. 

This was an era when the PGA Tour chartered airline flights to carry players and their families from tournament to tournament, when there was more of a family atmosphere than there is now, yet still some hints of the old rough-and-tumble Tour. The world of the PGA Tour wasn’t as corporate as it is nowadays – there were no entourages of swing coaches, short-game gurus, mental-game seers, and publicists, and many players were still driving from one tournament to the next. There was still something of a Mad Men-like sensibility to the times – a pretty woman was a “good-looking broad” (according to none other than Arnie himself!) and the players’ after-hours entertainment might include drinks with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, or Sammy Davis, Jr.

The beating heart of Men in Green, and the part of the book which has left an enduring impression on me, is the interwoven tale of Arnold Palmer and Ken Venturi. Remembered now more for his 35-year career in the broadcast booth with CBS Sports than for his playing days, Venturi was a promising young amateur in the mid-1950s, a native San Franciscan of Irish ancestry who nevertheless identified more with the Italian-American heritage of his stepfather, Fred Venturi, longtime manager of the pro shop at San Francisco’s Harding Park golf course.

Bitter disappointment at the Masters tournament, the ultimate golf venue of the ultimate gentleman-amateur golfer, Bob Jones, led Venturi to abandon his oft-declared plans to maintain a career as an amateur, like Jones, and not turn professional. The best-known of Venturi’s disappointments at Augusta National came in the 1958 Masters, the result of a controversial ruling involving Arnold Palmer, who was playing with Venturi when it happened.

The repercussions of that rules controversy, along with the fallout from harsh statements Venturi made to the press after a final-round 80 at the 1956 Masters, rippled down through the years, and Venturi watched as Arnold Palmer ascended to a position in the golf world, albeit as a professional, that he had aspired to. It becomes apparent, through Bamberger’s accounts of interviews with Venturi, that the revered elder statesman of the game was a very bitter man for much of his life, and somewhat given to embellishing recollections of past events to his advantage.

Connections abound between not only the big names, the “Living Legends” on Bamberger’s list, but between the less well-known “Secret Legends” whose stories weave in and out of the narrative. Serendipitous discoveries turn up at every corner, in conversations with an old-time Tour caddy, Adolphus “Golf Ball” Hull; retired CBS Sports producer Chuck Will; and even a couple of ex-Tour wives: Conni Venturi (Ken’s first wife), and Polly Crenshaw Price, another first wife – Ben Crenshaw’s ex.

The title, the cover illustration, and the release date (April 7, 2015 – two days before play began at the 78th Masters Tournament), tend to give the impression that the book is a look back at past Masters champions. That’s a fine subject, and five of the names on Bamberger’s list are past champions of the event, but this book is so much more than that. Men in Green is a look back to the formative years of the current state of the game, by a man who was growing up in the game, and with the game, in those same years. There is nostalgia and revelation in equal parts, all tempered by the love of golf that shaped the author’s life in so many ways.

Golf fans will know Michael Bamberger from his 20-year career at Sports Illustrated, and perhaps from his earlier books To The Linksland and This Golfing Life, also non-fiction travelogues through the landscapes of golf and life. A few years ago Bamberger teamed up with his friend and fellow SI staff writer Alan Shipnuck for the fiction hit The Swinger, but it is the insight and emotion he brings to his non-fiction works that is his strength, and the reason why every fan of the game of golf should read Men in Green.

USGA announces selection of Pebble Beach as third U.S. Open anchor site

At a media event staged in the Terrace Lounge at the famed Lodge at Pebble Beach, with a spectacular view of Pebble’s 18th green and Carmel Bay as a backdrop, representatives of the United States Golf Association (USGA) and the Pebble Beach Company announced that the world-renowned Monterey Peninsula property would join Oakmont and Pine Valley as the third anchor site in the USGA’s U.S. Open tournament schedule. Banners on either side of the stage listed the upcoming USGA championships that are on the slate for Pebble Beach: the U.S. Women’s Open in 2023, 2035, 2040, and 2048; the U.S. Open in 2027, 2032, 2037, and 2044; and a first – back-to-back Senior Open and Senior Women’s Opens in 2030 (at neighboring Spyglass Hill.)

The U.S. Open and U.S. Women’s Open trophies were on display against the backdrop of Carmel Bay and the 18th hole at Pebble Beach for the announcement of an historic partnership between the USGA and the Pebble Beach Company. (Photo by the author)

On a low stage flanked by photos of Pebble’s past USGA champions—from Woods, Nicklaus, and Watson to Robert H. “Skee” Riegel (1947 U.S. Amateur champion) and Grace Lenczyk (1948 Women’s Amateur champion), USGA President Stu Francis offered opening remarks, and Gary Woodland, who claimed victory at the 2019 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, joined the conversation by remote video. USGA Chief Championships Officer John Bodenhamer and Pebble Beach Resorts CEO David Stivers then spoke about the new partnership between the USGA and the Pebble Beach Company and what it means for the USGA championships, Pebble Beach and vicinity, and golf in general.

Bodenhamer, who played college golf and came close to final qualifying for the 1982 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, spoke about the importance of the venue to a USGA champion, referring back to remarks made earlier by moderator Beth Major, of the USGA, and Stu Francis, recalling how USGA Executive Committee member Nick Price, a three-time major championship winner himself (1992 PGA Championship, and 1994 Open Championship and PGA Championship) has said that it’s important where players win their U.S. Open, whether men or women.

Gary Woodland had also touched on this, telling the audience via video link “…when you’re a kid and you’re hitting that (winning) putt you’re dreaming of doing it at Pebble Beach. It’s the most iconic golf course we have in America.”

Both John Bodenhamer and David Stivers touched on the importance of this new relationship between the USGA and the Pebble Beach Company, citing three strategic initiatives that they see as stemming from the partnership:

First – attracting and nurturing the next generation of leaders at the USGA and Pebble Beach through investments in local programs.

Second – environmental stewardship, by partnering with the USGA’s Greens Section to advance research into water conservation and other measures to help make golf a more sustainable activity. (All of the Pebble Beach Company’s courses, plus the NCGA’s home course—Poppy Hills—which is just up the road from Pebble, are irrigated with reclaimed water.)

Third – (and this is perhaps less tangible than the first two) incentivizing young people to take up the game of golf by showcasing the possibility of someday competing in a major championship at a memorable and (not to belabor an already overused word) iconic venue.

Perhaps the most important aspect of this new relationship is the new level of parity between U.S. Open and U.S. Women’s Open venues, as evidenced by the scheduling of four women’s Opens and four men’s Opens at Pebble Beach over the coming 25 years. This is part of the growing level of support of the women’s game across the board, as sponsors, fans, and the media increasingly recognize the quality and entertainment value of women’s golf.

Touching on the benefits of this new long-term relationship, John Bodenhamer stated that it “…allows us continuously improve, put our stake in the ground, partner with Pebble Beach, think strategically differently than we ever have to make things better for players, fans, viewers, what you see.”

Thinking perhaps of the long-term familiarity with the venue that may arise from the partnership, Bodenhamer expressed surprise that “…some of you in the media haven’t coined a special term to describe Pebble Beach. You think about 8, 9, 10, it’s a pretty amazing place—maybe someone will come up with ‘Pebble's Peril’. ”

While I might suggest that John not quit his day job for a spot in the ranks of the golf media, I would also like to point out that one of the greatest writers to wield an Olivetti in a tournament media center, the late Dan Jenkins, has already laid a clever nickname on that trinity of cliffside golf holes, christening it “Abalone Corner” (with a nod to Augusta National’s “Amen Corner” – the 11th, 12th, and 13th holes.)

Personally, I don’t think that unfamiliarity with the course—which boasts some of the most scenic and notable golf holes ever broadcast to the television and computer screens of tens of millions of viewers across the world—is an issue. I can’t imagine that even a casual golf fan would fail to recognize holes like #7, the 106-yard par-3 perched on the tip of Arrowhead Point; or #17, the 200-odd-yard par-3 that yielded two of the greatest moments in U.S. Open history courtesy of Jack Nicklaus and Tom Watson; or #18, undeniably the greatest and most memorable closing hole in major championship golf.

And the good, great, amazing news coming out of this new partnership between the USGA and the Pebble Beach Company is that we will have the opportunity to watch more major championship golf being played, more often, in the years to come, here on the shores of Carmel Bay.

Ben Hogan owns a unique Ryder Cup record that may never be equaled

While the eyes of the golf world are focused on the Ryder Cup this week, I thought that it would be fun to pull away from the drama of the current year’s events to take a look at some Ryder Cup history, and ask a question. What constitutes the “best” record in the Ryder Cup? Is it the most wins, or the most points scored over time? Or is it a perfect record, unblemished by losses, or even halves? And if it is the latter, who has achieved such a record?

Well, I can tell you that only one man has, and I’m willing to bet that most golfers, if asked who that man was, would guess and toss out names like Nicklaus, Palmer, or Woods from the American side; or Faldo, Ballesteros, or Montgomerie from the GBI/European side—but they’d be wrong.

That man is Ben Hogan.

Ben Hogan at the 1967 Ryder Cup awards ceremony
Credit: PGA of America via Getty Images    Copyright: PGA of America

Hogan is not a name that comes up much in conversations about the Ryder Cup these days, but it should. The American players who are most strongly associated with the biennial competition include Jack Nicklaus, Paul Azinger, and Phil Mickelson; on the GBI/European side you’ll hear about Seve Ballesteros, Nick Faldo, Colin Montgomerie, and Ian Poulter. Ben Hogan didn’t play in as many Ryder Cups as those big names, or score as many points, but he has one distinction that none of the rest of them can match: he was undefeated, both as a player and as a captain.

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The 1947 Ryder Cup marked the return of the event to the world stage for the first time since 1937, and Ben Hogan’s first appearance in the event, as a playing captain—he remains the only man to have been chosen to captain the American squad without having played on a previous team. Foursomes and singles were the only matches that were contested in those days, and Hogan played in only one match, teaming up with good friend Jimmy Demaret in a foursomes match against Jimmy Adams and Max Faulkner, defeating the GBI duo 2-up.

Played at Portland Golf Club, in Portland, Oregon, the 1947 event was marked by controversy that came at playing captain Hogan from both sides. First, American player Vic Ghezzi, perhaps disgruntled by the serial disappointment of having been selected for three consecutive Ryder Cups that were cancelled by the war—19391, 1941, and 1943—complained that he had been discriminated against by Hogan when the captain eliminated from consideration for qualification the results of several invitational events in which Ghezzi had finished well.[i]

Second, Ghezzi also accused Hogan of pressuring tournaments to ease restrictions on the alteration of grooves on wedges, an infraction that Ghezzi had been accused of earlier that year, an accusation that was reported in the press. It is possible that these reports encouraged GBI captain Henry Cotton in alleging that the Americans were using clubs with illegal grooves. This accusation came to naught when Captain Hogan allowed the Americans’ clubs to be inspected, and all were found to be legal and conforming.

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Hogan’s next appearance in the Ryder Cup came in 1949 as a non-playing captain—the youngest, to this day, in the history of the event. Just seven-and-a-half months after the February, 1949 head-on collision with a Greyhound bus that had come close to claiming his life, Hogan led a nine-man team consisting of four veterans; Sam Snead, Jimmy Demaret, Lloyd Mangrum, and Dutch Harrison, and five rookies; Skip Alexander, Bob Hamilton, Chick Harbert, Clayton Heafner, and Johnny Palmer, against a 10-man GBI squad of eight veterans and two rookies.

The event was again marked by some controversy, on two counts: First, Hogan reopened old wounds from the 1947 Ryder Cup when he leveled charges, on the night before play was to begin, that some of the British players were using irons with grooves that were deeper than were allowed by the rules. Unlike Henry Cotton’s accusation in 1947, the charges were found to have some merit: Jock Ballantyne, the head pro of the host club, Ganton Golf Club in Yorkshire, reportedly stayed up half the night grinding the faces of several sets of clubs to bring the grooves into conformance.

Second, the U.S. team brought along their own provisions, including fresh butter and eggs, half a dozen Virginia hams, thirty pounds of bacon, and some six hundred pounds of Texas sirloin steaks, to a United Kingdom that was still subject to wartime food rationing. The furor surrounding this culinary affront died down when Hogan offered to share the American bounty with the host team.

This was still in the era of foursomes and singles matches only, and while the GBI squad led 3-1 at the end of the Friday foursomes, the U.S. team rallied back in the Saturday singles, winning six of the eight matches to post an overall winning record of 7 and 5.

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Hogan returned to Ryder Cup play in 1951 as a team member. Though thankfully unmarked by controversy, the 1951 event did score an oddity— play was split between Friday (foursomes) and Sunday (singles) so that participants and spectators (presumably) could attend a college football game on Saturday in nearby Chapel Hill, where home team North Carolina hosted the visiting Tennessee Volunteers.

The U.S. team went out to a 3–1 lead in the Friday foursome matches, Hogan and good friend Jimmy Demaret teaming up once again and defeating the GBI duo of Fred Day and Ken Bousfield, 5 & 4.

Despite their strong play on Friday (the three matches they won went 5 & 3, 5 & 4, 5 & 4), the American Ryder Cup squad stayed in Pinehurst and practiced on Saturday, while the visiting GBI squad attended the American football game (and likely wondered at the name, given that only one member of the team ever touches the ball with his foot.) The visiting team, Tennessee, won in a rout, 27–0, but any hopes of foreshadowing for the GBI Ryder Cup squad was crushed during Sunday’s singles matches.

The U.S. team dominated the Sunday singles, 6-1-1, adding 6½ points to their Friday total for a 9½–2½ trouncing of the GBI squad. Hogan, playing in his first, and only, Ryder Cup singles match, defeated Britain’s Charlie Ward 3 & 2. It was to be the last Ryder Cup point he ever scored.

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Hogan didn’t return to the Ryder Cup until 1967, when he took the U.S. squad down the road to Champions Golf Club in Houston, Texas as a non-playing captain.

Not taking it any easier on his team than he ever had on himself, Hogan imposed a 10:30 pm. curfew and early practice sessions on his squad of five veterans and five rookies.

It was evident, however, that Hogan had confidence in his team. At the opening night dinner, after GBI squad captain Dai Rees, a loquacious Welshman, waxed lyrical (and overlong) about the virtues of each of his players in his introductory remarks, Hogan kept his speech short and sweet. After introducing each player by name only, and with his entire team standing, Hogan said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the U.S. Ryder Cup Team—the finest golfers in the world.” 

There was noticeable friction between Hogan and one of his players, though: Arnold Palmer. The two had always had a frosty relationship, and a couple of incidents during the 1967 Ryder Cup only deepened the permafrost.

In an interesting move that would form the basis of the one question I would most like to ask Mr Hogan, given the chance, he opted for his team to play the smaller (1.62-inch diameter) British ball, as was the option in those days.[ii] The decision to play the smaller ball led to a bit of internal controversy between Hogan and Palmer. Details of the exchange vary, but allegedly when Palmer, who had obviously forgotten to practice with the 1.62-inch ball, asked Hogan if he had brought any, Hogan snapped back, “Did you remember to bring your clubs?”[iii]

Of course, it probably hadn’t helped things that Palmer had shown up a couple of days late for practice rounds, and then took a few members of the GBI squad up for a ride in the Rockwell Jet Commander aircraft that he had bought the year before.[iv] After climbing to 8,000 feet and rolling the aircraft, Palmer circled dangerously low over the golf course on final approach before landing. Billy Casper was on the course at the time, and later recalled that when Palmer flew over in the jet, with his wheels down, he was so low that, “I could have hit a wedge over that plane.” Tournament host and Champions Club co-founder Jimmy Demaret quipped, “The only time I’ve ever seen a plane fly under the eaves of a clubhouse.”[v]

The stunt earned Palmer a letter of severe reprimand from the Federal Aviation Administration, and a rebuke from Hogan.

After Palmer and partner Gardner Dickinson won their Friday foursomes matches 2 & 1 over the Anglo/Irish duo of Peter Alliss and Christy O’Connor in the morning, and 5 & 4 over another Anglo/Irish pairing, Malcolm Gregson and Hugh Boyle in the afternoon, Palmer was sat out in the morning for the Saturday fourball (better-ball) matches, a 1963 addition to the Ryder Cup format. This is often seen as a slight against Palmer, who agreed in public with his captain’s decision, and later admitted in private that he was a bit tired.[vi] Julius Boros, who had 14 PGA Tour wins to his credit by this time, and two U.S. Open wins (1952, 1963) also sat out Saturday morning after playing morning and afternoon on Friday.

Saturday afternoon saw the two rested players, Palmer and Boros, paired up against Scotsman George Will and Irishman Hugh Boyle in a hard-fought match. The American pair were 4-down at the turn, and battled back to a 1-up win that was the closest U.S. victory of the afternoon.

The Sunday singles matches were dominated by Captain Hogan’s American players 5–3 in the morning and 5½ –2½ in the afternoon, for an overall score of USA–23 ½, GBI–8 ½.

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Ben Hogan’s record of three Ryder Cup wins doesn’t sound too impressive compared to the points totals toted up by some modern-day players, but his opportunities to rack up points was limited by the war years, and by the fact that his Ryder Cup playing days came before the addition of a day of fourball matches between foursome and singles. In one category, though, he stands out above all others: he is the only man whose Ryder Cup record, both as a player and a captain, has that pair of zeroes after the win count: 3–0–0. 

Ben Hogan – undefeated.

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[i] Dodson, James; Ben Hogan: An American Life, pg. 213

[ii] The Montreal Gazette; October 20, 1967 

[iii] Sampson, Curt; Hogan, pg. 229

[iv] https://www.arnoldpalmer.com/aviation

[v] Dodson, James; Ben Hogan: An American Life, pg. 475

[vi] Feherty, David & Frank, James A.; David Feherty’s Totally Subjective History of the Ryder Cup, pg. 146

Comparisons of Tiger Woods’ recent crash to Ben Hogan’s 1949 crash are inevitable, but flawed

Not long after I first heard about Tiger Woods’ recent car crash, I began to dread the inevitable comparisons to Ben Hogan’s well-known crash, on February 2nd, 1949—and they weren’t long in coming. What I didn’t anticipate was a validation of their similarity, even with qualifications, from James Dodson, the author of one of the two most notable biographies of Ben Hogan. In response to queries of, “Isn’t this like history repeating itself?”, Dodson replied (in this column: With Crash Came Echoes of Hogan) with a qualified “yes”:

“…there are striking similarities in these tragedies as well as eerie echoes of each man’s struggle to reach the summit of the game only to pay a price for becoming the best in the world. In each case, though they were stars from very different eras, both also experienced something of a personal awakening—even redemption—along the way.”

(Insert face-palm emoji here.)

Right off the bat I take issue with the characterization of Woods’ February 23rd, 2021 crash as a tragedy. The injuries to his right leg, though serious, were not life-threatening, and no medical opinion has been expressed that casts serious doubt on his ability to walk or play golf again. There has been a lot of speculation about his ability to come back and play as well as he has in the past, but frankly, due in large part to his multiple back surgeries (the cumulative result of the violent lashing action of his swing over many years), his best years are well behind him, and have been for over a decade.

Woods’ crash can only be construed as a tragedy by sycophantic fans who consider him the be-all and end-all of the game of golf, and by any reasonable estimation can only be construed as being his own fault.

On the other hand, Hogan’s crash, which was entirely the fault of the driver of that Greyhound bus, came within a hairsbreadth of being a tragedy in the event, as only the last-second act of flinging himself across the seat to shield his wife preventing his being crushed against the back of the seat by the steering wheel and steering column of the car as they were shoved into the passenger compartment by the impact. There could still have been a tragic result in the aftermath of the crash, because his life was threatened by blood clots that formed in his damaged lower body and moved to his heart and lungs. Only timely intervention in the form of a complex, invasive surgical procedure, which saved his life but impaired the blood flow to and from his legs, prevented an ultimate tragic result for Hogan.

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I am also having a problem with the comparison related by the statement “…eerie echoes of each man’s struggle to reach the summit of the game only to pay a price for becoming the best in the world.”

How can Hogan’s crash be construed as “…pay(ing) a price for becoming the best in the world”? Don’t bother answering, I will: it can’t. It was the sort of thing that could have happened to anyone who happened to be driving along with all due care only to be victimized by the carelessness and poor judgement of another driver.

On the other hand, Woods’ latest automotive mishap, as well as the others, involved only himself (thankfully) and some combination of drugs and the consequences of his own bad judgement and bad behavior. Looked at in a certain way, refracted through a prism of fanboyish worship and a willful disregard for assigning fault, Woods’ most recent crash could be construed as arising from his well-publicized ruthless pursuit of perfection, and his frustration at not living up to his self-imposed goals. Entire books have been (and will continue to be) written about this.

The bottom line on that aspect of the issue is that Hogan achieved arguably his greatest professional and personal success after the car crash that left him with life-threatening complications. He was in the hospital for 59 days and at great risk of never being able to play golf again, yet he came back to rack up 11 wins (of which six were majors) in the six years following his accident, and this on a limited schedule—for example, in 1951 he played only five tournaments, and won three of them (including the Masters and the U. S. Open).

Woods’ return after the fire-hydrant incident and the subsequent implosion of his personal life and public reputation looked like this: two winless seasons in 2010 and 2011, then a mini-comeback with three and five wins, respectively, in 2012 and 2013 (playing 19 and 16 events in those years), before another round of back injuries and personal complications brought on the longest winless stretch of his career, from 2014 to 2017. 

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Ben Hogan’s personal awakening in the wake of his crash consisted of a man who had always been something of a loner realizing that he had fans, that people liked him and were pulling for him to recover from the horrific injuries he had suffered. It was a sea change in his outlook on life that helped him persevere through his recovery and subsequent return to championship form.

Woods’ personal awakening in the wake of either or both of his earlier traffic misadventures, to the extent that he had one, was more along the lines of, “Holy s**t, I may lose sponsors (reader, he did…) if I don’t get my act together!” Woods also engaged in rehabilitation for substance and sex addictions, as a well as a public (and painful) mea culpa as a bone thrown to the general public (and potential future sponsors).  

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Ultimately, the only similarity between the two events lies in the fact that they were vehicle crashes that involved a professional golfer; the differences are much more significant.

Ben and Valerie’s Cadillac was plowed into by a Greyhound bus when an inexperienced bus driver attempted to unsafely pass a truck, on a bridge, in foggy, low-visibility conditions, to make up time and keep to his schedule. 

Tiger’s crash took place at approximately 7:12 am on a clear sunny day, on a lightly traveled (in these pandemic times) road that was dry and in good condition. The physical evidence at the scene indicated that his vehicle continued in a straight line as the road curved gently to the right, crossing a low median divider and two opposing-traffic lanes (luckily, there were no other vehicles in those lanes at the time), exiting the roadway, taking out a tree, and flipping/rolling to a stop in the “natural area” adjacent to the roadway.

So what caused it? Was it impairment? Inattention? Speculation is rampant, and fueled partially by the actions (or inaction) of the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department.

The LACSD declined to obtain blood toxicology information when Woods was taken to a local hospital, relying instead on the assessment of a deputy on the scene—a deputy who was untrained in the identification of clues of impairment—who said that Woods seemed lucid and in possession of his faculties in the aftermath of the accident.

Independent traffic-accident investigators who have reviewed the available information about the incident have questioned that decision, and late-breaking information about Woods’ responses, specifically  the fact that he twice told deputies on the scene that didn’t remember how the accident happened and didn’t even remember driving, have raised further questions.

Woods is known to have had issues with the sleep aid Ambien in the past, a medication which carries a warning about impairment a day after taking it, impairment that includes disorientation and memory loss.

Several articles published in the weeks following Woods’ crash have stated that investigators have sought access to the vehicle’s so-called “black box” (actually an event data recorder, or EDR), but that device is unlikely to tell them much that cannot already be gleaned from the evidence at the accident site. An EDR collects data such as vehicle speed, throttle position, brake application, airbag deployment, seatbelt use, steering angles and other data for a period of about 20 seconds before the crash, during the crash, and 20 seconds after the crash.

This type of information is used by vehicle manufacturers to determine if a mechanical malfunction was a contributing factor in a crash, but it is not necessarily going to be strongly indicative of human-error factors that may have precipitated an incident. For that, other avenues of investigation have to be pursued.

Phone records, and blood toxicity reports (if available), would allow investigators to determine if inattention or physical impairment were causal factors—and should be pursued. If another vehicle had been involved and innocent people in that car had been injured or killed these factors would certainly not have been ignored. Even lacking that complication the seriousness of this accident would warrant a thorough investigation to determine its cause in order to support a charge of DWI or reckless driving.

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I’ll be honest—I have never understood the rah-rah enthusiasm of Tiger’s fan base, which drove a frenzied outpouring of well-wishes and “thoughts and prayers” comments that has washed over social media like a tidal wave in the three weeks since he crashed that SUV. Of course only a sociopath wouldn’t wish him as complete a recovery as possible, if only for the sake of his future life as a parent to his two kids, but the level of grief and outpouring of emotion for injuries that weren’t life-threatening surpasses understanding in my book, especially when those injuries were his own fault.

Various columns that have come out since the crash have warned Woods’ fans not to expect a rousing comeback—an assessment that is based on: a) his age, and b) the pre-existing physical issues that have already taken their toll on his game, so the apex of their hopes, that he will equal or surpass Jack Nicklaus’ record of 18 major victories, is essentially out of the question.

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To reiterate: the cold, hard fact of the matter is that the only commonalities between the crash that broke Tiger Woods’ leg and the crash that narrowly missed claiming the lives of Ben Hogan and his wife, Valerie, is that they were automobile crashes that each involved a professional golfer. The two men were in very different places in their careers when their respective crashes occurred, and the incidents happened under very different circumstances, for very different reasons—namely, Ben Hogan was hit by a bus, and Tiger Woods threw himself under one.

It Takes a World War or a Global Pandemic to Derail the “Crosby Clambake”

 Golf, being a wholly outdoor game, is subject to the whims of the weather, and nowhere more so than at the seaside venues which carry on the traditions of the game’s nascency in Scotland. The AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am, contested on the famed oceanside venue on the Monterey Peninsula, and two neighboring courses, has had its share of weather delays over the years: a rain delay in 1996 that postponed the final round until the following August, a hailstorm in 2019 that pushed the final round to a Monday playoff finish, and even a snow delay in 1962. Arguably the biggest changes in the tournament’s history, however, have come about as a result of World War II, and a global pandemic.

The original Crosby Clambake, as it was informally known in its early years, was played at Rancho Santa Fe, in the San Diego area, from 1937 to 1942, and then halted, as many events were, by the United States’ entry into World War II. Revived in 1947 and moved to Pebble Beach, the event became a staple of the Monterey Peninsula events calendar.

Through thick and thin, fair weather and foul, PGA Tour pros and their amateur partners have flocked to the golf mecca of the Monterey Peninsula to take part in this unique event, undeterred by the unpredictable weather conditions. The weather has been so much of a factor over the years that the phrase “Crosby weather” has come into use among locals, even non-golfers, as a shorthand term for the widely variable conditions that the area is subject to in the January-February timeframe in which the tournament has been played over the years.

The 2021 event, however, is faced with a more ominous obstacle—the COVID-19 pandemic—which will give this year’s event a (hopefully) unique position in the tournament’s history: for the first time, the tournament will be played by professionals alone, with no amateur partners.

We have become accustomed over the last several months to seeing golf tournaments being played without spectators, and with the continuing high rate of new cases of COVID-19 as well as deaths due to the disease, it should come as no surprise to anyone that the amateur component of the event is being cut this year.

With the field down to just 156 professionals, the usual triumvirate of courses; most recently Pebble Beach Golf Links, Spyglass Hill Golf Course, and the Monterey Peninsula Country Club’s Shore Course, will be trimmed to just the two Del Monte Company properties: Pebble Beach and Spyglass Hill. 

The tournament will still be enjoyable for television viewers—watching the pros take on these two venues is always a worthwhile way to spend a couple of weekend afternoons—and with any luck we will get to see a bit more of Spyglass Hill than we have in the past.

Spyglass is the course which prompted Jack Nicklaus to comment “Pebble and Cypress (Cypress Point Golf Club, which was in the Pebble Beach Pro-Am lineup until 1990), they make you want to play golf. Spyglass Hill—that’s different; Spyglass makes you want to go fishing.”

Acknowledged to be the most difficult of the three courses in play in the tournament, Spyglass Hill, a Robert Trent Jones design, was a controversial selection when it first entered the lineup, in 1967. Brand new, and in need of some growing in and adjusting, Spyglass drew approbation for the first couple of years that it was in the line-up; after its tournament debut an anonymous amateur contestant commented, “We played Spyglass under some unfortunate conditions—it was open.”

Not only can we hope to see more of Spyglass, but with any luck the course will be allowed to show its teeth to an extent that has been lacking in recent years. Under normal conditions all three courses are played to the same flags for the first three days so that all contestants play the same setup—which means that the hole locations at Spyglass Hill are eased up for the sake of the amateur contestants.

With a pros-only field this year, I hope to see both Spyglass Hill and Pebble played to more challenging flags than we are accustomed to seeing during this event, which will silence some of the naysayers who  decry this tournament as a fluff stop on the PGA Tour, and the courses—Pebble in particular—as beautiful, but not necessarily challenging.

In any event, what we will see, I imagine, is that this event, a cherished, long-standing tradition on the Monterey Peninsula, will carry on despite the challenges presented by the current health crisis—and come back as strong as ever in 2022.

Who’s chasing history at the 2020 PGA Championship?

The circumstances under which the 2020 PGA Championship is being played—a global pandemic, no spectators on course, a timeframe reversal back to its usual August time slot, and a first-time appearance at an iconic San Francisco venue—are enough to afford the event a highlighted spot in the golf history books. Beyond those circumstances, though, there are three players in the field this week who are chasing history above and beyond a single major championship victory: Tiger Woods, Brooks Koepka and Jordan Spieth.

(Image © 2020 Christian Petersen/PGA of America)

Coming into the tournament Woods stands on the threshold of an all-time wins record with the possibility of breaking his tie with Sam Snead at 82 total victories, and maybe even more significant than that, a win in San Francisco this weekend would bring him one step closer to equaling Jack Nicklaus’ major victories record.

Woods tied Snead’s long-standing record of 82 PGA Tour victories in grand fashion in 2019 when he recorded his fifth Masters win after a 14-year drought in the event; the 2019 Masters chop also moved Woods one step closer to sharing the top step on the all-time major-victories podium with Jack Nicklaus, marking his 15th major victory—three less than Nicklaus, with 18; and four more than Walter Hagen, who with 11 majors is the only other member of the double-digit-wins club in professional majors. A win this week would also elevate Woods to the top step of the “PGA Championship wins” podium, which he would share with Nicklaus and Hagen.

Another player who will be spotlighted this week for the potential of an historic achievement is Brooks “Mr Majors” Koepka. With two consecutive PGA Championship victories in his pocket, Koepka is going for a hat trick this week, and while not a record, a win at Harding Park would make him only the second player, after Walter Hagen, to take the PGA Championship title three years running.

Hagen, by the way, was PGA champion four years running, 1924 – 1927, after having won it in 1921. The cup awarded to the winner, the Wanamaker Trophy, mysteriously disappeared after his 1927 victory at Cedar Crest Country Club, in Dallas; Hagen claimed that he gave it to a cabbie to deliver to his hotel. Leo Diegel, who won the PGA Championship in ’28 and ’29; and Tommy Armour, the 1930 champ, had to make do with a firm handshake and a smile from then-PGA president Alex Pirie.

The trophy resurfaced in the fall of 1930, a few months after that year’s event, when workers clearing a warehouse in Detroit found the massive silver cup in a trunk. The owner of the warehouse? The Walter Hagen Company. Hmmm…

Last but not least comes Jordan Spieth, who is chasing probably the most elusive of the potential records that are in the mix this week on the shores of Lake Merced—the Career Grand Slam.

Spieth jumpstarted his run at this career goal in 2015, his third year on the Tour, when he took home the Masters and the U.S. Open titles and served notice that the others were within his grasp with a T4 finish in the British Open at St Andrews, and solo second, three strokes back of Jason Day, in the PGA at Wisconsin’s Whistling Straits.

After a T2 finish in the 2016 Masters, the result of an infamous meltdown at the 12th hole, Spieth went into something of a tailspin where the majors were concerned; he didn’t crack the Top 10 again in any of the Big Four until the British in 2017, where he edged the majorless Matt Kuchar for the win at Royal Birkdale.

Since that time, however, Spieth has sputtered. His record in the majors in the interim ranges from a third-place finish in the 2018 Masters to a T65 at last year’s U.S. Open, just down the coast from Harding Park at Pebble Beach Golf Links, with only two other top-ten finishes in that time. He hasn’t won a regular PGA Tour event since the 2017 Travelers Championship, and is 12-for-49 for top-10 finishes since 2018.

Still—coming to the shores of Lake Merced for the first West Coast PGA Championship since Sahalee, in the Seattle area, in 1998; and the first in California since the 1977 event at Pebble Beach Golf Links; and with Masters, U.S. Open, and British Open titles to his credit, the 27-year-old Dallas native has his sights set on the tournament he needs to win to put that last notch in his tally stick.

“It’s probably the No. 1 goal in the game of golf for me right now…. I’d love to be able to hold all four trophies, and this is the one that comes in the way right now.”

– Jordan Spieth 

Spieth is already keeping company with some pretty big names, men who lack just one of the four majors in their CVs —

• Walter Hagen, Masters
• Lee Trevino, Masters
• Tommy Armour, Masters
• Sam Snead, U.S. Open
• Phil Mickelson, U.S. Open
• Byron Nelson, British Open
• Tom Watson, PGA Championship
• Arnold Palmer, PGA Championship

—and a win this week at Harding Park will vault him into even more illustrious company, that of the five men who have claimed each of golf’s major titles at least once: Jack Nicklaus, Tiger Woods, Ben Hogan, Gary Player, and Gene Sarazen.

If You Can’t Play Golf, Read About It – A Recommended-Reading List of Golf-Related Books

In this time of shelter-in-place and social distancing, with people turning to indoor pursuits as their chosen outdoor pursuits are, largely, curtailed for the duration of the health emergency, “Top 10” lists of movies to TV shows to watch, or books to read, are flourishing. Since I publish two blogs, one on golf and another on books, what is more appropriate than for me to publish a golf-book reading list of my own? Here then, in no particular order, is my personal rundown of golf books that I have found to be especially rewarding to read, with a brief description of each.

Let’s start with the man who started it all for me, Dan Jenkins:

Dead Solid Perfect, by Dan Jenkins
This is the book that was my introduction to Dan Jenkins’ work, and to golf writing in general. Dead Solid Perfect was recommended to me by the father of a girl I was dating, years ago, with this caveat, “Don’t read it anywhere where laughing out loud will bother other people.” I went out and bought a copy, and read it straight through over a weekend. It lived up to its billing.

A bit raunchy in parts (though not a patch on Jenkins’ big football-based bestseller, Semi-Tough), and far from politically correct at any time, DSP relates the adventures of Fort Worth-based pro golfer Kenny Lee Puckett—growing up in Fort Worth, pursuing life and love on the pro golf circuit, and making a run at the U.S. Open title. (If the name sounds familiar, Semi-Tough’s pro football player protagonist Billy Clyde Puckett is Kenny Lee’s nephew.)

DSP is the genre-defining grandaddy of all golf novels; no golf-reading list can be considered complete if it does not include this book.

More by Dan Jenkins:

NOVELS
The Money-Whipped Steer-Job Three-Jack Give-Up Artist: Winner by two lengths for the “longest title in my bookcase” prize, this book is kind of Dead Solid Perfect, Pt II. Published in 2001, just shy of 40 years after the publication of Dead Solid Perfect, Jenkins revisits familiar territory with another Fort Worth-based pro golfer, Bobby Joe Grooves, who is on a quest for a spot on the U.S. Ryder Cup squad.

Slim and None: Bobby Joe Grooves is back in this 2005 sequel, with a new girl friend, and a new quest—a major championship title and membership in an exclusive club: major winners aged 44 and over.

The Franchise Babe: Jenkins switches gears in this 2008 novel—instead of a pro golfer from Fort Worth, his protagonist is a golf writer from Fort Worth who has jumped the fence from the PGA Tour to cover an up-and-coming young LPGA star. Predictable, maybe; but also funny in Dan’s resolutely non-PC manner. Look for a cameo appearance by a thinly disguised Ron Sirak, a good friend of Dan’s who has worked the LPGA beat for years.

NON-FICTION
The Dogged Victims of Inexorable Fate: The classic, must-read collection of golf essays, some real, some fictional. Dan’s second book, written in 1970, contains the single best comic essay on golf ever written, “The Glory Game”.

Fairways and Greens: This 1994 collection of Dan’s writing is divided into two sections: essays on the (then) current-day game, and a “nostalgia” section, heavy on the Hogan (of course!) Also contains a reprint of “The Glory Game” re-titled as “The Glory Game at Goat Hills”.

Unplayable Lies: Another collection of essays, published in 2015. Half existing works that had appeared previously in Golf Digest or Golf World (in some cases slightly updated or reworked for the book), the other half new work, written specifically for this book.

Jenkins at the Majors: Another collection of Dan’s work, 94 of the brilliant, written-on-deadline pieces on golf’s majors, written for the Fort Worth Press, Dallas Times Herald, Sports Illustrated, and Golf Digest that he turned in during his career as a newspaperman and magazine writer—during which he covered 232 majors—arranged chronologically and chosen for the historical significance of the particular event.

Mr Hogan, The Man I Knew, by Kris Tschetter
This 2010 volume by LPGA player Kris Tschetter is unique in the Hogan bibliography, relating as it does how South Dakota-native Tschetter became acquainted with Hogan while she was on the golf team at Texas Christian University in Forth Worth. She and her older brother, Mike, who also played golf for TCU, were gifted junior memberships at Shady Oaks Golf Club—Hogan’s golf hangout in his retirement years—by their parents. Hogan noticed Kris for her diligent practice sessions (one of his trademarks) and they became sometime practice partners. Kris and Mr Hogan remained close for the remainder of his life, and her stories of their time together and his surrogate-grandfather role in her life are heart-warming and genuine.

I haven’t conducted a formal count, but Ben Hogan and Arnold Palmer have to be running neck-and-neck in the number of books that have been written about them, Palmer because he was so open and charismatic, and Hogan because he was pretty much the opposite (or at least perceived that way), so this book is important for the depiction of a side of Ben Hogan that few knew existed.

For more on Ben Hogan, I recommend two fine (though very different) biographies, Hogan, by Curt Sampson, and Ben Hogan: An American Life, by James Dodson; also Grown at Glen Garden, by Jeff Miller, about Hogan, Byron Nelson and the Fort Worth golf course where they both grew into the game; and Miracle at Merion, by David Barrett, which relates the story of Hogan’s comeback from a near-fatal 1949 automobile collision, leading to the much-lauded 1950 U.S. Open victory at Merion Golf Club, near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Men in Green, by Michael Bamberger

This 2015 book by (now-former) Sports Illustrated writer Bamberger is a delightful road trip around the United States to connect with some legends of the game of golf, both well-known and little-known/unknown. The names involved run the gamut from Arnold Palmer to Dolphus Hull. It is full of Bamberger’s wry observations and enlivened by his deep knowledge of and love for the game of golf. (The talks he had with Arnold Palmer are themselves worth the price of the book.)

More by Michael Bamberger: 

The Green Road Home: Bamberger’s first book, published in 1986, is about the six months he spent caddying in the PGA Tour the previous year, at the age of 24. Twenty-three tournaments, including the British Open and the PGA Championship. Caddying for a disparate array of players such as Al Geiberger, George Archer, Brad Faxon, and Steve Elkington. It is a great look at a bygone time in pro golf, and the beginning of the career of one of the best writers in the game of golf today.

To The Linksland: Six years after The Green Road Home, Bamberger and his adventurous and very understanding wife, Christine, left their office jobs—he a reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer, she a New York ad executive—to see the other side of golf: Scotland, the Continent, and the European Tour. It is an adventurous travelogue, and a journey to the heart and soul of the most soulful game in the world.

This Golfing Life: A stirring retrospective, published in 2005, looking back at twenty years in golf, from caddying in his twenties to reporting for the Philadelphia Inquirer, where he covered golf part-time, before moving on (and up) to Sports Illustrated.

Bud, Sweat, and Tees, by Alan Shipnuck

Former Sports Illustrated writer, now wielding a pen for Golf.com, my fellow Salinas, California native Shipnuck can always be counted on to find a quirky story among the goings-on in the world of professional golf. This book, which follows PGA Tour pro Rich Beem’s early career, from his 1999 rookie season to his early (and ultimate) peak as the 2002 PGA Championship winner, is a great example. It’s a crazy ride from Beem’s stint as a minimum wage cellphone salesman, to hooking into the wilder side of life on the PGA Tour accompanied by his equally hard-living caddie Steve Duplantis.

More by Alan Shipnuck:

Swinging From My Heels – Shipnuck collaborated with San Jose, California native Christina Kim on this inside look at the 2009 LPGA Tour. Kim, the youngest LPGA player in history to reach one million dollars in career earnings—back when a million bucks was still a lot of money—has never been one to pull a punch, and this no-holds-look at a season on the distaff Tour raised some eyebrows when it came out in 2010.

The Battle for Augusta National: Hootie, Martha, and the Masters of the Universe – The first book by Shipnuck explored the Hootie Johnson/Martha Burke controversy that affected the 2003 Masters golf tournament.

The Swinger—A collaboration with (then-)fellow SI scribe Michael Bamberger, this roman-á-clef novel is thinly-disguised run at the infamous trials and tribulations of Tiger Woods.

The Greatest Game Ever Played, by Mark Frost

The inspiring story of Francis Ouimet, the 21-year-old American amateur golfer who defeated two titans of golf, England’s Harry Vardon and Ted Ray, to take the 1913 U.S. Open title. The account of how Ouimet, accompanied by his 10-year-old caddie, Eddie Lowery, took down these two giants of the game in a nerve-wracking playoff at The Country Club, in Brookline, Massachusetts, is a sports story for the ages.

More by Mark Frost:

The Grand Slam: Bobby Jones, America, and the Story of Golf – No name in American golf resonates more strongly throughout the game than that of Bobby Jones. Frost delves deeply into the life of this American sporting icon in this well-received 2004 biography.

The Match: The Day the Game of Golf Changed Forever – Though I have always felt that the event doesn’t live up to the billing of the subtitle, this book about a private match at Cypress Point Golf Club in 1956 between two of the top professional golfers of the era, Ben Hogan and Sam Snead, and two top local amateurs, Ken Venturi and Harvie Ward, is an engrossing read, with plenty of infill back-story on the participants, as well as the instigators of this fabled confrontation, San Francisco auto dealer and amateur golf supporter Eddie Lowery (yes, that Eddie Lowery) and Oklahoma oil and cattle millionaire George Coleman.

A Course Called Ireland, by Tom Coyne

An eccentric golf-centric travelogue, in which Coyne, an associate professor of English at a small Midwestern college, explores his Irish heritage by walking around the perimeter of Ireland in sixteen weeks, playing every golf course that he comes across (60, eventually). He doesn’t miss many pubs along the way, either.

More from Tom Coyne:

A Course Called Scotland – Coyne’s fourth book, this 2018 volume is something of a followup to his 2009’s A Course Called Ireland. Also a golf-centric travelogue, this time around Coyne plays all of the links courses in Scotland (and a few notable ones in England and Wales) on his way to an attempt to qualify for the Open Championship at Bruntsfield Links in Edinburgh.

Paper Tiger – Coyne’s first “golf quest” book, this 2006 effort is about a year spent attempting to qualify for the PGA Tour. Funny and poignant by turns, it is an exploration of a secret desire harbored by many good-but-not-quite-good-enough recreational golfers.

A Gentleman’s Game – Coyne’s first book, and only novel, about a talented high school golfer and his clashes with his father, a self-made businessman who is envious of his son’s talent and the entry it gives the boy into the rarified social circles of the local country club.

Arnie, Seve, and a Fleck of Golf History, by Bill Fields

Subtitled Heroes, Underdogs, Courses, and Championships, this 2011 volume by Bill Fields, a former senior editor at Golf World magazine, a compendium of his columns from a 30-year golf-writing career, is a condensed master course in “How to write about golf”. The best golf writing isn’t about the score or who won, or what clubs they used—it’s about the people in the game, winners or also-rans, and their journeys to achievement. Fields is a master at identifying and illuminating the essence of the story he’s telling, with tremendous empathy for the people involved, and he has a poetic flair for a well-turned phrase that makes his prose a joy to read.

The Longest Shot—Jack Fleck, Ben Hogan, and Pro Golf’s Greatest Upset at the 1955 U.S. Open, by Neil Sagebiel
I had the pleasure of meeting author Neil Sagebiel at the 2012 U.S. Open at the Olympic Club in San Francisco. I was there covering the event for my then-media outlet, Examiner.com, and Neil was there for this book. The victory, in an 18-hole playoff, that unknown muni-course pro Jack Fleck scored over Ben Hogan, one of the brightest stars in golf’s firmament at the time, was truthfully one of the biggest upsets in golf history. Sagebiel delves deeply into the background of Fleck, who was something of a character, and a minor player of the sort who inhabited the fringes of the professional game in those days. It is a well-balanced look at a great moment in sports history, and the only one that I have read which does not approach the story from the standpoint of “Wouldn’t it have been better if Hogan had won?”

Also from Neil Sagebiel:

Draw in the Dunes–The 1969 Ryder Cup and the Finish That Shocked the World. Just about any golf fan is aware of the finish of the 1969 Ryder Cup, when Jack Nicklaus conceded a putt to Britain’s Tony Jacklin – a concession that resulted in the first tie in the history of the competition (while allowing the U.S. squad, as defending champions, to keep the cup.) The reactions at the time ranged the gamut, from U.S. Captain Sam Snead’s self-righteous indignation to frank relief on the part of many on the GBI squad. In this book Neil brought a significant moment in golf history to life, combining the results of exhaustive research and extensive interviews with his prodigious storytelling talent to paint a complete, and very satisfying portrait of a complex series of events. 

The Story of Golf in Fifty Holes, by Tony Dear
Tony Dear, a British golf writer living in the Seattle area, explores the history of golf in unique fashion in this 2015 book, ticking off fifty significant events in the history of the game, in chronological order, by looking at the golf holes where they happened. I have met and played golf with Tony on a couple of occasions, and found him to be a knowledgeable and erudite scholar of the game, qualities which this book puts on display superbly. I think that any golf fan with an interest in the history of the game will find this book to be very interesting (though I do hope that Tony will revise his selection for #50 if he ever publishes an updated edition.)

Pebble Beach and the Forgotten Men, by Jerry Stewart

We have all heard the story of Phil Mickelson’s maternal grandfather, Al Santos, a poor kid growing up in Monterey, California, son of a Portuguese fisherman, who at age 13 became one of the first caddies at the newly opened Pebble Beach Golf Links. Well, in this 2005 book by Jerry Stewart, then a sportswriter for the Monterey County Herald (and now Communications Manager for the Northern California Golf Association) you will read some great stories about, and told by, many of the other caddies – a colorful bunch, to be sure – that have paced the fairways and greens of Pebble Beach over the years.

Jerry is another local guy, born and raised in Salinas like myself, and a good friend whom I first met in the media center for the Champions Tour’s First Tee Championship tournament at Pebble Beach. In Pebble Beach and the Forgotten Men he has put together a great collection of the kind of stories that are usually heard over libations in the Men’s Grill after a round of golf. It’s a fun read for anyone who has been fascinated by the long history of one of America’s greatest golf courses, and a lot cheaper than buying a round of drinks for the bar.