GOLF.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 12, 20 March 1912, Page 10

GOLF.

The Language of Golf. In the course of fifteen years* experience on golf courses it naturally follows that I have met with some weird expressions, ranging from the star turn of an Indian officer whom I ouce played to the modest “Tut!” of the leader of the Opposition. There are players who bring forth forcible remarks when t'ae occasion in no wise warrants such a waste of elocution. Others at times are silent through lack of something expressive enough to suit the situation in which they find themselves; but the look of their faces is a suflicient indication of the workings of their brain. This has been termed “profane silence,” which is beautifully descriptive. I think it will lie found that the various strokes in the game have each a value of their own. For instance, a missed tee-shot is usually less productive than the two-foot putt missed for a half. I am myself a notoriously bad putter, and it is quite possible that I unduly enhance the value of this stroke as a medium for speech. Some plump for the stymie, but give me the twofooter. It is all very -well for unco guid to say that one should not lose the temper at any game. If a player with some pretensions to form takes 120 to complete the course, and whistles unconcernedly all the time, I have no hesitation in saying that this person is not keen on the game, and, moreover, cannot appreciate its possibilities. To hear our opponent invoking help from all the gods of Ancient Greece is the sweetest music to our ears. It also gives us the opportunity of being magnanimous, for when things are going wrong with our opponent we can assure him that we are getting all the luck. Not that this will appease his wrath — rather it is pouring oil on the flames, inasmuch as it reminds him—if any reminder is necessary —that he is getting all the bad luck. I have heard golf described as a game where the ball lies badly, but the player lies well. There is not the slightest doubt that the English language is pitifully inadequate to the ordinary golfer, though its resources are taxed to the uttermost. And yet one occasionally meets with a player who gives us cause for wonderment—at least to those of us who find relief in speech. One such occurs to my mind. He is a clever surgeon, and a decent golfer, but I have actually seen him miss a foot putt to halve the match.

and smile at his foolishness, and yet I am assured that when, after sewing up his patient, he finds he has missed a surgical instrument, his rage is awful to witness. Had it been the other way about I could have understood it; but this little instance only proves how peculiar some people are. The majority of golfers find a vent in the very common expression of “Damn," thus showing a lamentable lack of originality. But as they improve their game so do they improve in conception, and when we get into the ranks of plus men we find the finished article, a man who has no more use for the dictionary. There are some who, with a great command over themselves, repress their feelings, and thereby suffer much mental agony, but others are not capable of this forbearance. A stranger once turned up at my club, and, being without a partner, invoked my aid, asking me to find him a partner who did not object to freedom of speech. It so happened that the only member without a partner was the club linguist, a player responsible for more original expressions, as applied to golf, than anyone I have ever met. I sought him out, and told him of the stranger, remarking that he was a memoer of the ministry, and advising him to be careful. He promised he would not say a word out of place. I then returned to the stranger and informed him that the only player I could find was a Wesleyan minister. He was somewhat taken aback at this, but, being anxious for a game, he consented to my introducing him, promising not to upset the feelings of our pride. This I did, and, under the impression that each other were members of the fourth estate. they started. Now, I had played ■with “ours," and knew his capabilities when thoroughly roused, so, in search of ‘‘copy,” I walked a few- holes with them. They each played poor stuff for the first few holes, hut kept themselves well in cheek —not, however, without great effort on their parts. The cataclysm, which I had anticipated, finally burst. They were both in the same bunker at No. 9, and “ours," after three ineffectual attempts to get out, smashed his niblick shaft against the bank. Then his reason fled, and he gave vent to his pent-up feelings, after which he turned to the other “minister” and apologised for losing liis temper. The other was bewildered for a while, but —“My dear sir," he replied. “Eve been bottling mine up ever since we started, under the impression that it would seriously offend you. but now — let me assist you.” “Ours*' since told me (for I had made mvself scarce)

that he never in all his life ever heard anything so wonderful. After which they shook hands and had a very pleasant same. The meaning of “speech” is “words that express ideas,” and when a golfer hits a mashie shot off the socket he has an idea that ordinary speech does not express his ideas, and embellishes it according to his view of the situation. Four players were driving from a tee near the road, and several navvies were interested spectators. The first three players all had strokes that were high ones, whilst the fourth—who was very bad tempered got completely underneath bis, with the result that it soared considerably higher than the others. Before he had time to pass a few remarks on things in general, one of the navvies shouted out. "’Ear, 'ear! Tghest vet, guvnor.” Well, under the circumstances the altitude winner mar be pardoned for giving vent to his feelings. Silence is supposed to be golden, but this cannot apply to the golfer;, though it does not follow that he is one whit worse for adding to the language, for do we not read in Shakespeare—“Mr father’s of a better- nature, sir. Than he appears be soeeeh.” HARRY FULFORD.