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CHAPTER 1
THE PERFECT GAME OF GOLF
golf (from Dutch, kolf), a large field-target ball game, the object being to play the ball into a series of variously located four-inch holes with the fewest possible strokes.
per'fect (from Latin, perfectus), to finish; complete in all respects; pure; most excellent.
game (from Middle English), sport; amusement; contest; arrangement; competition; to win; recreation; play; art or quality of playing at any sport; test of skill; endurance; courage; scheme pursued; measures taken; planned; wild; risk; all chances of a successful completion are gone; make the butt of jokes; to act according to the rules; to behave as fairness requires; having an undaunted spirit unwilling to admit defeat.
Alright. The first part is a lecture. Oh, quit whining. It'll be fun! 'Cause it's not exactly, fully — 100 percent true. Maybe 96.3. Don't worry, you can figure it out. There won't be a quiz! It's not that kind of a lecture. Just sit back, relax, now go with it.
We must start at the beginning for that is where our misconceptions began. There has been an endless debate on the history and origins of Golf. ... It's over. There are in fact two. First, there is the origin and history of the Imperfect People Game (known as a field-target ball game). Second, there is the origin and brief history of the Gods' Perfect Game (now known as Golf).
Little is certain of either origin. However, strong evidence gathered from antiquity supports a new theory that both origins of the Game intersected at a special point, and thus there became only one source for the greatest Game known to Mankind.
First, we will examine the Imperfect People history of the Perfect Game.
Golf was invented by a woman in 936, China. Specifically, her name was Gaoqiu (chowpeh). She was a Sharra from very far Eastern Mongolia. Rather lithe for a Mongolian woman and supremely intelligent. She had the kind of thin lips that puts a woman into a perpetually pretty smile. Beautifully proportioned. Breasts not too big, not too small. Folklore had it she danced like a nymph. 'Course ya gotta have the eyes to go with it! (Gaoqiu was aptly named.)
Anyway, she awoke from a dream (more on that later) and the Imperfect People Game of Golf (chuiwon) was created. She saw the dream from beginning to end but remembered it backwards. That morning she set about fashioning the first putting green.
The Game was to be a wedding gift to her husband, one of the leaders in the nomadic tribe. His name was Xiongmengou (chongmengooah) and he was both feared and respected. His penchant was Polo. The Chinese learned it from the Persians. Since everybody had horses, Polo was very big in Mongolia. Xiongmengou, which means "fierce dog," was a great Polo player.
The men would not return for another seven suns. Gaoqiu and her friends worked excitedly to finish in time. They carved out tall wooden putters. To make the balls, the women skin-wrapped feathers soaked in black tea and sun-dried them to a hard, crusted, brownish-shaped sphere. Gaoqiu secretly worried that the balls were not white like in her dream, but there was no time left for a change.
All was ready; a smooth, gently undulating putting green, 15 clubs, plenty of balls, and a four-inch hole dug for the cup. There was a tee box that was a large, light wooden frame that she could fold up and move about. She did what the voice in her dream said and what she saw. At least ... until she got confused.
Too late. The men were back. Fierce Dog was greeted by his lovely bride and presented the Perfect Game to play. As the crowd moved closer, Gaoqiu explained the Game. Like how she remembered her dream, she started at the end. She told her husband the object of the Game was to putt the ball into the hole. The Mongolians were fascinated. What was this strange new thing? No one had seen anything like it.
They all held on to every word as Gaoqiu explained the essence of the Game (the putting part). Fierce Dog laughed, interrupting her. So easy! He took the putter, dropped the brown ball, and straddled it. Gaoqiu quickly and very gently corrected her husband while pointing for him to stand to the side. Fierce Dog cocked his head, laughed, and told the crowd he knew that! He was just havin' fun! And they all laughed with him.
The crowd was hushed as the new groom lined up his putt. He jabbed. It was well short of the hole. The crowd moaned as some shouted in disbelief. Fierce Dog grabbed another ball from Gaoqiu's hands and dropped it on the ground. But before she could say anything, he made the stroke. The ball sailed three feet past the cup.
The Mongolians went wild. Some snickering, jeering, most cheering him on.
As Fierce Dog slowly walked toward the ball, he struggled to shake off the shock of his miss. Ten feet away! What kind of game is this?! He stopped, stood behind the ball, and crouched down. The crowd whispered knowingly. He can do it! Fierce Dog stood up, stepped to his ball, and waited. Silence. He stroked and the brown ball rolled, rimmed around the hole, and fell in. The whole tribe erupted in joyful noise, throwing red flower petals high into the sky, stomping their feet, and clanging their swords.
But Fierce Dog would have none of it. He threw the putter to the ground and bolted away, yelling in anger. Gaoqiu tried to explain to her husband that there was more to the Game. But her words were drowned by the din and now mixed with tears — making her husband explode in rage.
Much of the rest has been lost in translation. But, when Fierce Dog jumped on his horse and threw a shrunken enemy head to the ground, he shouted — now there is a discrepancy in the syntax here but the gist of it is — Why play the Game if you can't hit it as far as you can!?... FUCK GOLF! REAL MEN PLAY POLO!! And with that, he rode into the stark plains, smashing the rolling, lopsided, shrunken head in front of him.
It was another five suns before Fierce Dog returned home.
But no one had forgotten what had happened. His buddies teased him relentlessly. They wouldn't let up trying to get deep under his skin. They called him "San Tuigan," which means Three-Putt. Each time the laughter came, Fierce Dog would redden like Gobi dust and shake, rattle, and roll without moving his feet. Seconds would pass like eternities and then he conquered his rage. To do otherwise would be a sign of weakness. He was strong of mind.
But when the Best Man at his wedding started taunting him about a penalty stroke and called him Four-Putt, Fierce Dog had had enough. He hit his buddy over the top of his head with the hilt of his sword, which made the Best Man stick out his tongue. Fierce Dog grabbed the tongue with one hand and cut it off with the other. Then he threw it up in the air and sliced it into three pieces before it hit the dirt floor.
As every and any man, woman, or child is born to the Game, Fierce Dog, from deep within, could never admit a four-putt existed. It was an Evil thought that he had to banish into bloody pieces. Some history purists may also note that this was the beginning (and perhaps final result) of trash talking.
If only Fierce Dog had heard all of his bride's dream. Instead, he went on to retire as an Inter-Tribal, three-time champion Polo player. But by the light of the moon, he would practice putting. Until one night, Fierce Dog was killed by an avalanche of one boulder crushing him beneath his secretly beloved green. (A replica of his putter is planned for exhibition at the Beijing Historical Sports Museum.)
After the wedding gift episode, only the women, undeterred, continued to play the Game. After a while, all those giggles and conspiring whispers and random outbursts of joy as the women played started to get annoying. The men grew jealous and demanded that the women stop putting. They said it was disrespectful to the birds. The Chinese have always held a fascination with winged creatures.
But the women reasoned how could so much fun be so bad? The men shouted "bu zai qiu!" Which means "no more balls!" When the last feather ball was gone, the Game must end. The women were forbidden to make them. The men feared the Dragon Gods would scorch their yurts in fiery retribution.
The Mongolian women continued to play Golf until the inventory of balls was depleted. However, the essence of the Game — putting — was preserved for another hundred years.
The women had secretly passed down the putting balls from generation through generation as part of their dowry in marriage. Golf then went underground. No record can be found about the Perfect Game for another century.
Then in 1254, the Game was rediscovered by the Europeans.
It had evolved. The field Game by Imperfect People now included areas surrounding the putting green that were decidedly different. When Dutch and Finnish spice traders made it overland to central Asia, they saw Chinese women putting and chipping.
They took the small game of chui won with them and changed the name to kolf. The Dutch utilized their natural lowlands and hazards to enlarge the Field. The Scots, trading with the Dutch, learned the Game and brought it back to their harbor towns along the coast.
The Perfect Game of Golf was formalized into English about midnight in 1386 (more on that later). Incidentally, the first English-language, misconceived Golf instruction book was published over 200 years ago.
Meanwhile back in China, the Ming Dynasty had perfected the Game. During the 13th and 14th centuries, Golf ruled the entire country. Golf was so popular that everyone played it. Rich and poor, men and women, even kids! Following one emperor after another, Golf was the country's pastime for over 200 years!
The Chinese took to the Game like an addiction. Every family had a set of clubs. Ancient Chinese Golf included 10 holes, wooden flags, moveable tee boxes, and rules on etiquette and equipment. They even invented a scoring system for strokes. The Ming Dynasty enjoyed a richly layered culture rivaling the ancient Greeks. For the Chinese, Golf was an obsession.
I understand the difficulty you might have in embracing this unfamiliar history of the Game. I was an unbeliever myself until a very unexpected event changed my perspective. I know ... I need to explain.
Remember when we started and I told you that I worked for a while in academia? While teaching at a nameless East Coast university ... a student — I'll call him Lee — became one of my favorites. I wasn't much of a conventional teacher. I sought original thinkers. Students with strong imaginations. Grounded in the fundamentals but risk-takers. And those special ones that could challenge me as I challenged them. Lee was like that.
With some of my exceptional former students, I wouldn't hear from them for several years. By then they realize the true value of what I taught them and our relationship changes.
I happened to be on the West Coast when Lee found me. Not surprisingly, he had become famous in his field. When I work as a mentor, my students know very little about my personal life and I know little of theirs. We are all very mature adults. The work we do is more important. I knew that Lee came from a large family and that his father was a wealthy businessman in China. That's all I knew of his personal background. Lee had the beginnings of a brilliant thinker who just needed help finding his way.
We spent a lazy afternoon together trading stories and catching up. Now, when Lee was my student, he knew that I played the Game. Only my best students knew.
That day he told me more about his father. He was beyond wealthy. A multibillionaire who had survived the Cultural Revolution. Evidently, they needed him more than he needed them. In this turbulent, bloody time the revolutionaries tried to re-indoctrinate the entire nation. Lee's father kept a secret from the cultural rebels that he knew they could never abide. He would be killed no matter what his value was to them.
Lee's father was a collector of cultural antiquities. But far worse, his obsession was chui won. He had the largest private collection of Chinese Golf artifacts extant. I was stunned. Lee said his father survived the Cultural Revolution and so did his treasure trove of Chinese Golf history.
Now Lee knew I played the Game. But he waited until now, years later, to tell me this and more. He invited me to see his father's prized collection. Of course, I was overjoyed but the practicalities made it impossible. Money wasn't a driving motivation for me, and at that point in my life I couldn't afford such a trip. Lee's gift to me included all expenses paid. We flew to Beijing the next morning on his Boeing ... . Yeah.
Lee opened the door to the compound that held his father's collection and the lights flickered on. What I saw was like the inside of an Egyptian tomb. Objects galore of every size and description. Thousands of clubs that looked like works of art. Huge murals depicting Chinese men, women, and children playing Golf. Marble statues of men with clubs, putting, chipping, or caught in motion on a full stroke. There were hundreds of red wooden flags in the shape of pennants, all three feet tall.
Large tee boxes were laid out all over the vast room. They were made of glazed bamboo, perhaps a half-inch thick and two inches wide, forming a big square where the players must stand. Some of them were folded and carefully arranged. Each one had a strange, small cup attached at the front corner. Lee told me it was for the chestnuts. Players would cut and stack water chestnuts on top of each other to use as tees for the ball.
And the balls! Infinite colors perfectly shaped and preserved. As I held one up, I could see the outside of the ball had small perforations in a pattern that looked like a galaxy of stars. Before I could speak, Lee said the Ming Dynasty ball weighed the same as today's golf ball! Then I saw what looked like parchment scorecards. I was dizzy with delight. So many things so beautifully exhibited.
In one part of the compound collection, I came upon a large rolled-up scroll — very official looking with ivory handles. I carefully rolled it open. It was filled with row upon row of black Chinese character letters. And very strange images strung along the borders. Lee said the scroll contained instructions on how to play the Game. It was 600 years old! No wonder he'd given me gloves to wear.
A few more steps, 'round a corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks. PUTTERS!! ... I saw putters the likes of which took my breath away. The grips looked like crayons of endless color. Leather, carved wood, or glazed fabric wrapped each handle. The shafts were made of cypress and silver, forming a staggered pattern cascading to the putter heads below. Some of the heads were like flowers cut in half with a straight sharp side and petals blooming around it on the other side.
In the middle of all those ancient putters stood one special one, spotlighted, on display. Instinctively I knew not to touch it. Lee said his father had lamented that he could only find two Emperor putters and this was one of them!
The handle was ivory but with carved jade snakes curling up and forming a thumb and palm grip. The eyes of the snakes were precious stones. The putter head was made of powder blue porcelain with a teak insert at the center of the blade. Absolutely amazing. Angelic. I could almost feel it moving in my hands. But ... it was time to leave. When Lee turned off the lights to the compound, for a moment or two ... I was dancing in the dark with Lady Ming.
What I saw that day in China no Golf historian has been privileged to witness. When I got off his plane, Lee gave me two dozen ancient balls delicately nestled in a jade box. And he gave me something else. Like I said, the true value of learning is determined by the student. Lee understood this. He gave me something he thought was as priceless as what I had given to him years earlier. But bless him for I think he gave me more.
Back in Europe, close to the end of the 14th century, in 1386 to be exact, the Scots formalized the Perfect Game played by Imperfect People. Sir Robin of Spens claimed to have invented the Game after awakening from a dream (more on that later). After the Dutch brought the Game back from China and taught it to the Scots, it was a disaster. Totally disorganized. Language arguments between the Dutch, Fins, and Scots regressed the Game. No structure at all. It was like a free-for-all. Sir Robin's dream clarified what the Dutch got wrong and sort of modernized the Game. This is how it happened:
Sir Robin of Spens was sitting at the Achill Claw Inn. Actually, he was slumped over next to his playing partner, a big, burly, blond named Squire Boyd. Sir Robin had 22 shots of single-malt whiskey that day and he was snoring at the table. He was 33 years old, well-liked, and well-to-do. Thin nose ... always seemed to flap his elbows when he walked. Made his mark in the import-export business. Hated the Fins. Dutch treated the same. It galled him to act nice to the likes of those pirates. But, a coin's a coin; as long as the bargain flips into his palm, he's a happy man.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Coil/Strike"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Phairway Phil.
Excerpted by permission of Gatekeeper Press.
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