GOLF.

Taranaki Daily News, 22 December 1923, Page 12

GOLF.

WONDERFUL BUTTING. CHAMPIONSHIP IN A GALE. NEW BRITISH PROFESSIONAL. In a week of thrilling, dramatic golf, in Which the surprises chased one another in most bewildering fashion, 'R. G. Wilson, an unassuming golfer, whose modesty has so far ke*pt him in the background, emerged into the limelight as the new British Professional Matchriay “Champion.” None will grudge Wilson his success, long overdue, even if only for his wonderful defeat of A. Mitchell in that memorable semi-final when it looked all Lombard Street to a China orange that e new champion must go under, writes the special correspondent of an English exchange. Two down with two to play against a golfer like Mitchell is a position which no man in his proper senses woidsl care to face. And yet Wilson, to his infinite credit, faced it like a hero and triumphed. To those who know "Wilson this mortal t'hrust at the last moment, when his cause seemed hopelessly lost, was a complete revelation. None thought he was capable of it. He started at the 17th with a most perfect run-up shot from below the plateau green. Wilson is a master of this counting shot in golf, which he plays with the right hand turned slightly over at impact to give the ball added impetus. Then came the subsequent putt for a four.

A GLORIOUS SHOT. But the most glorious shot of all, the shot of a lifetime, was Wilson’s brassie at the last hole. To carry a deep, formidable cross-bunker below the green against a raging, tearing wind, blowing at 35 miles an hour, was a tremendous feat in itself, but to place the ball on that last green within reasonable putting distance of the hole was rather verging on the fantastic. However, I saw Wilson accomplish the deed, and it is one of the shots that will live in the memory. The ball, boring its way through the gale at a low angle of flight, came whistling over the top of the bunker, to drop spent and lifeless within three yards of the flag. And the putt was rammed home for a three.

There was never any doubt about Wilson’s putting- The ball was banged with courage at the back of the hole, and it went in—always. And it was his marvellous putting that saved him in the end, when hi* long game was as futile as it could possibly be, and his short game had gone all to pieces. No putt was too tong; when the hole seemed gone for ever, down would go the ball from some seemingly impossible spot. It was the most amazing exhibition of putting that I have ever witnessed; it would have broken the heart of a lion. LESSON IN PUTTING. We should all profit by the lesson that Wilson taught us—as a successful putter only. His recipe is a perfectly simple one; he hits through the ball like the famous billiards player. There is not the smallest suspicion of jab or stab; the club head goes on and on in a line with the hole as if there had never once been a ball there at all. Never once when he wa* ramming down putts from all parts of the green did he give by *o much a& a lift of an eyebrow, or the slightest gesture, any impression that he was performing anything out of the ordinary. In fact, he was the one man who was not surprised it the hundreds who stared in wonderment at these miracle*.

Another golfing crown has been won and lost with the old familiar names out of the running in the race for the spoils. It is rather significant that this particular ‘‘championship,” with its rich money prize, has once again fallen to the “lesser lights.”