Thought for the Day
It takes a great deal of knowledge to be aware of the depths of your own ignorance
GOAT? Well, it’s not Jack or Tiger
For as long as the game is played, the debate over who is the greatest golfer to have lived will rumble on. But to my mind, there’s only one contender, and he died 54 years ago.
For as long as there has been competitive sport there have been men (and it usually is men) who have tried to make comparisons between the champions of different eras. Such comparisons can be engrossing but they are usually worthless – any sportsperson can only be legitimately measured against their peers. Despite this, it is possible to look to Jones and declare, without equivocation, that he was the best there ever was or will ever be because no golfer has ever enjoyed the total domination that he had over his rivals. You may, of course, disagree, but you would be wrong.
Although Ben Hogan has his champions, the debate about who stands pre-eminent in the modern era is focused on Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods. For me, Jack comes out on top. Not only does he have three more majors than Tiger but almost as remarkably, 19 runner-up finishes in golf’s Grand Slam events (Tiger managed to come second seven times). Above even this, though, is the way Jack comported himself; always with grace and dignity – which hasn’t always been the case with Tiger.
But the man from whom Jack borrowed the template of civility, decorum and sportsmanship is Jones, the last of the great amateurs.
His competitive career was considerably shorter than any other great golfer – he retired in 1930 aged 28 with no mountains unclimbed and no worlds left to conquer. In the seven years between 1923 and his retirement he accumulated 13 major championships out of 21 played, an astonishing 61% win record (and he lost two US Open playoffs). To put that in perspective, when Tiger Woods reached the age at which Jones stepped down, he had won 11 out of 36 (and this includes his three US Amateurs), which represents a winning ratio of 31%, exactly half of that achieved by Bobby.
And by the time he was 28, Jack Nicklaus, the most successful golfer of all time, had won nine majors, including his two US Amateur wins. Because Jones was a lifelong amateur he was excluded from playing in the US PGA Championship, which was limited to professionals, and he hadn’t yet created The Masters. So for him the majors were the Open and Amateur Championships on each side of the Atlantic – and the amateurs were much more difficult to win because they were matchplay events, and in Jones’ era all the best golfers were unpaid.
This meant, until reaching the 36-hole final, the competitor played a series of 18-hole matches, the outcome of which is always difficult to predict. Over the comparative sprint distance of one round a couple of bad shots by yourself, or inspired (or lucky) blows from your opponent can settle the outcome. Just ask Tiger, who was twice beaten in the WGC World Matchplay by virtually unknown Australian left-hander Nick O’Hern.
Underneath its civilised veneer of good manners, courtesy, etiquette and a deeply ingrained respect for the rules, matchplay golf is a remorseless examination of skill and character in which no quarter is asked or given. Yet in this most uncompromising of arenas, Jones stood not so much head and shoulders but a full torso above his contemporaries. Between ages 14 –28 he was never beaten twice in matchplay by the same opponent – and was very rarely beaten once.
In addition to his Amateur and US Amateur titles, his credentials as a matchplay demon were never better demonstrated than in the Walker Cup, in which he serially demolished many fine opponents over 36 or 18 holes. In 1926 he walloped CJH Tolley 12&11; two years later he was even more clinical in finishing off TP Perkins 13&12, then in 1930 he beat Roger Wethered 9&8.
His overall Walker Cup record was played 10, won 9 and lost 1 (in foursomes, so this sole defeat can be laid at the feet of his useless partner). During his short but unequalled career, Jones entered a total of 52 tournaments and won 23 of them. A winning strike rate of almost 50% is about as likely as seeing Greg Norman become commissioner of the PGA Tour.
But the final, unarguable testament to Jones’ extraordinary skill, and even more remarkable character, is that he ended his career with the sort of dramatic flourish that is the preserve of only the very best. Knowing that 1930 would be his final competitive season, he confided to a friend that he had set himself the task of trying to win all four majors in a calendar year, a goal so lofty that it had been dubbed, in the rather flowery prose of the day, ‘The impregnable quadrilateral.’
But although the language may be a touch florid, the sentiment is clear; this is an ambition so far beyond the realistic scope of anyone that to even discuss it is to invite derision. The Grand Slam of Golf, as it has become known is an unobtainable fantasy, right up there with the idea of bedding Thandie Newton and Jennifer Aniston on the same night, or even at the same time.
It is also worth noting that in that last, magnificent season, and for most of his competitive career, Jones played in probably no more than a dozen events as the demands of a family and career as a lawyer made themselves felt. In effect he uniquely captured golf’s, and arguably sport’s, greatest achievements during his spare time.
Yet Jones did it, giving his career the peerless finale it deserved.
Quote of the Week
Jones is the greatest golfer who ever lived and probably ever will live. That’s my goal. Bobby Jones. It’s the only goal.
Jack Nicklaus