ARNOLD PALMER WAS WINNING MONEY FROM GOLF WHEN FIVE YEARS OLD

Press, Volume C, Issue 29608, 2 September 1961, Page 9

ARNOLD PALMER WAS WINNING MONEY FROM GOLF WHEN FIVE YEARS OLD

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SIMON KAVANAUGH

A RNOLD Palmer had to play golf. He was driven to hitting screaming drives and sinking long putts by the sort of urge that makes other men climb mountains, paint pictures or discover new worlds.

He is now the greatest golfer in the world. He has tremendous natural ability, as was demonstrated last week in conquering the wind and rain-swept Birkdale course to win the British Open championship. But often as he makes his swing he will repeat to himself the fundamental points of the game such as the need to keep the head steady and grip the club firmly, just like the keen novice.

This is the determination with which Arnold Palmer approaches golf. Bobby Jones, who gave up tournament play because of the nervous strain it imposed, says that the secret of winning tournaments lies not just in hitting the ball but in the amount of torture a player is willing to put himself through. “Palmer,” he says, “is willing to take the torture. Why, I’ve seen the tension drain the colour right out of the boy’s face.” That is how Palmer likes it. A game means nothing to him if the tension is off. In any competitive sphere the fittest survive and the toughest get to the top. Few things are more competitive today than top sport, especially golf. Cynics

Cynics may say that it is just a question of money. And none can deny the material rewards that are there to be grasped. In 1960, Palmer set a new cash record for golf when he won over £30,000 in prize money, averaging £l3OO for each tournament. What with the commercial interests such as advertising, special tuition, and newspaper articles he has now boosted his income to the £150,000 a year bracket. With South African Gary Player, he is touring the world during the next six months playing in sponsored television matches which will bring them over £lOO,OOO each.

Arnold Palmer does not deny that he likes the financial rewards golf has to offer. He first became interested irf them when his father was the professional at the Latrobe country club, Pennsylvania. With his cut-down women’s driver, Arnold stationed himself at the sixth tee. When a woman player came up to drive he would offer to take first whack for them to hit the ball over the menacing drainage ditch that lay 120 yards ahead right across the fairway. The price was a nickel a time. Arnold was then five. Often the swing would carry him off his feet. Invariably the ball soared over the ditch. Money, however, is not his only incentive. To compete in the 1960 British Open he gave up American tourna-

ments worth over £35.000. He was lured by his ambition to achieve the grand slam of professional golf—the U.S Masters, the U.S. Open, the British Open and the American Professional Golfers Association Event. No-one has ever won them all in one year. The nearest anyone came to achieving it was in 1953 when Ben Hogan won the Masters, the U.S. Open and the British Open. Palmer rates Hogan’s feat as golf’s greatest achievement. He is determined to better it. He was in the running for it last year when, having won the Masters and

the U.S. Open, he came to Britain only to go down by one stroke to Australian Kel Nagle. Palmer’s game is one of power, purpose and boldness. From the time he opens his shoulders to let loose a 280yard drive from the first tee until sinking his putt on the eighteenth green he has the air of a man who is there to show who is boss. He scorns safety-first play and will go for his shot when the odds are against even a man of his ability pulling it off. Even when he is in trouble he is unwilling to waste a shot and will play a deliberate hook from the rough. On the green he goes for a 10 foot putt as though he can conceive no other outcome other than the ball dropping into the hole. The way he covers the ground between shots gives Palmer legitimate claim to be the fastest player in the game. It seems that he cannot get on with the game quickly enough. To fit in his tight tournament schedule he may hire a plane, which he pilots him-

self. Otherwise he drives round, taking his wife Winnie (met in 1954, proposed to three days later) and their two daughters Peggy, (5), and Amy, (3).

One memorable morning 24 years ago, seven-year-old Arnold, with his six-year-old sister Jean carrying, broke 100 for the first time. This convinced him more than ever that “some day I’m going to be a big golfer like Bobby Jones.” Jones was the only golfer he regarded with any hero worship. He reckoned on overtaking all the other giants of the game. He practised assiduously

under his father’s expert eye. Even the snow did not deter him. He used red balls. “Just watch me” became such an oft-repeated cry that even father’s enthusiasm was stretched to the limit. Today, as the greatest playqr in the world, he still gets back to Latrobe whenever he can to put in hours of practice under father’s guidance. Palmer senior also instilled golfing discipline into his son. A poor shot made in a high school match saw Arnold Palmer hurl his club away in disgust. “Do that again,” said father “and I’m through with you as a golfer.” Arnold is not a clubthrower now. Completely absorbed in his game, he often seems aloof on the course, and if his father or his wife Winnie is watching they know not to speak unless Arnold opens the conversation. In early professional days he would sometimes quit in the middle of a tournament if he were in a hopeless position. This happened more

frequently than might have been expected from a future champion. He turned professional in 1954 after winning the U.S. amateur title and did not make an immediate impression on the professional circuit. But in 1957 ’ only four men earned more money from the game. The following year he was No. 1 in the earning parade. In 1959, he was not at his best. Uncertain iron play cost him strokes and pegged his prize moriey to £12,000. His greatest performance? The one that day in June last year will take some beating when he murdered the rest of the field and the course to win the U.S. Open after being seven shots down at the start of the final round.

It was the sort of golf to make the rest of us resolve to take up croquet. After the first seven holes he was six under par, sinking putts that took away what little breath spectators had after gasping at his incredible approach shots. He banged in one up hill from 35 feet and also rolled a curving 25-footer. But 24-handicap rabbits can take heart. Arnold Palmer, master-golfer, masterearner, is human. In this year’s Los Angeles Open he took a 12 on the last hole of the first round and failed to qualify.