GOLF.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 4, 22 January 1913, Page 9

GOLF.

CONCENTRATION IN GOLF. AND HOW IT CAN BE OVERDONE. (By EDWARD.RAY, Open Champion.) I presume that ninety out of every hundred golfens have at some time in their careers remarked that a lack of concentration has been their chief failing, and there can- be no doubt that in the necessity for qoncentration- we are faced: with the hardest phase- of the game; and yet, is not all the talk about concentration somewhat in danger of becoming overdone? lam prepared to admit that when playing any game it is necessary to give the matter in hand our closest attention, and not allow our thoughts to wander, but I have yet to meet the person who can play a game of golf without being conscious of his partner’s or his opponents’ progress. We •should not be human if otherwise was the case.. The player who loses himself, so ta speak, when engaged in a strenuous match game is the one most likely to lose, fox in match play we axe guided, ta a great extent, by what our opponent is doing,, and we should be ever on the qui vfvej therefore I am of opinion that stories we hear and read of players being unaffected by outside influences must be taken, with a grain of salt. If it be written that when actually playing a. stroke we should think of the stroke alone, then I agree, for once permit our mind to speculate as to the result. be®re the stroke is made, tlwr outcome invariably confirms our worst fears. In the. matter of undivided attention we must place the professional golfer on a different footing, for his years, of experience should affect his game in such a manner that his results are? obtained by natural means, and not, as. iir the case of the great majority, by control of our imaginative faculties. Your paid player does not require snch mental effort to bring about the desired result, and though! this, coming from a professional golfer, reads somewhat bombastic, yet the truth is in it. It appeals to the average golfer, no doubt, to read that a certain player goes around wrapt up iu his own thoughts,, and hears or sees nothing but what appertains; to. the business in hand; reading this, they envy such self-control of the mind, bute-re-member the salt aforeiventioned.

The foregoing remarks might lead the reader to assume that I do not believe in concentration, but when engaged in. important events I naturally work my hardest,. but. should not attribute a faulty stroke to. the fact that I had not given sufficient attention to it; nor do I stop to speculate as to. the why and wherefore of the fault, for another stroke demands attention and the milk has been spilt. A psychologist' would doubtless welcome tlm opportunity of proving to me why I had missed it, anil I should probably accept his explanation without understanding, and if he proved that I obtain a good stroke by a combination of essentials of an anatomical nature, then? would he still floor me, for I know no other fact but that I go up to-the ball and liit it;, feel annoyed if I miss it; but do. not. bother my head as to- why I obtained, a good one.

My nearest, approach to this concentration business, is when looking- at the distant, flag, wondering whether a> eleek will get too far, or an iron nut far enough; the stroke therefore is weighed up before played,, and it is in this respect that the mind is called into, play, and, as far as I am concerned, to a greater extent than in the actual playing of tho stroke, fo-r the mind has worked out tho problem of distance,, experience points to the right club, and the mind, I presume, governs the stroke. Possibly my nature is of the happy-go-lucky type, but between the strokes my thoughts are allowed to roam; I inquire of a passing player how he fares; talk shop, perhaps, with my opponent or partner; discuss tho possibility of getting in the prize-list—-in fact, anything that comes to mind, but approaching tho spot where the ball lies, then do we resume business. I do not believe one jot in the contention put forward by several writers that concentration, or, rather, attention, must bo always on the ball; for I feel suro that the ball itself, a rubber sphere, concerns us not iu the slightest; we look at it, true, but we do this from habit, and because we know it to be necessary; our attention, however, is more directed to the swing necessary to play the bail from the position it lies in at that particular moment; it may be that a bunk c looms ahead and the bull lies depressed.

This being bo, we see to it that the club is lifted a little more perpendicular in the back swing, iu order to obtain a sharper curve, which should have the effect of picking the ball up quicker, and in the accomplishment of this we devote our attention.

I know amateur players who have so schooled themselves that they play the game as if their future salvation depended on the result. One well-known Yorkshire amateur in particular thinks out every stroke and plays them so carefully that he has no time between the strokes to discuss anything not connected with the game. In his ease I believe that concentration has greatly assisted him, and perhaps it would do likewise to all amateurs who take up the game late in life. \\ e acquire knowledge in our early •lays; our museles become set in one groove, and therefore ive require less concentration, for our minds are already familiar with the proper method, and need no correcting or keeping in check. Therefore, in urging those anxious to improve their game, to take it more seriously, to concentrate more, I am admitting it to be a good thing, for there are more things in golf than the lifting of your opponent's half-crown.