The Unwritten Chapter on Golf ¹

Abstract

THERE are two ways of dealing with a difficulty—the meta-physical and the scientific way. The first is very simple and expeditious—it consists merely in giving the Unknown a name whereby it may be classified and categorized. Thence-forward the Unknown is regarded as having become part of knowledge. The scientific man goes further, and endeavours to find what lies concealed under the name. If it were possible for a metaphysician to be a golfer, he might perhaps occasionally notice that his ball, instead of moving forward in a vertical plane (like the generality of projectiles, such as brickbats and cricket-balls), skewed away gradually to the right. If he did notice it, his methods would naturally lead him to content himself with his caddie's remark—“Ye heeled that yin,” or, “Ye jist slicet it” (we here suppose the metaphysician to be right-handed, as the sequel will show). But a scientific man is not to be put off with such flimsy verbiage as this. He must know more. What is “heeling,” what is “slicing,” and why would either operation (if it could be thoroughly carried out) send a ball as if to cover-point, thence to long slip, and finally behind back-stop? These, as Falstaff said, are “questions to be asked.”