Many
years back, in a little town by the sea, a game called gowf
was played by a few of the local nobility. It was a simple enough
game, requiring a sturdy four-and-a-half foot tree branch, with six
inches bent at about a 45 degree angle on one end. The branch, when
swung in a downward motion from shoulder height, would propel a
round stone along the ground to a target in the distance. The person
reaching the target in the fewest number of strikes was the winner.
At first, the target was a tree or large
boulder, until one day, after considerable searching, Lord William
McPark found his stone at the bottom of a rabbit hole. From then on,
the object became to intentionally knock the stone into a
pre-selected hole, meticulously dug to a depth from which the stone
could be easily retrieved. The hole could be no larger than that
made by the average rabbit. After all, what challenge is there in
aiming one’s stone at a hole made by a sheep or goat?
Soon after, marker sticks became necessary and were placed in the
target hole when, in a particularly close match, two shots played
from about the same distance vanished into separate holes. The
bewildered participants, unable to agree on who was entitled to the
wager of two gold nuggets, went off to consult with the local
magistrate. The official, being astute and wary of an uprising from
those supporting the loser of his decision, disqualifies both and
kept the nuggets as payment for calling the court into a special
administrative session.
From that
point forward, sticks were placed in each hole to mark the official
target at which to take aim. As the community prospered, more people
took up the gowf, and soon the abundance of appropriate tree
branches started to dwindle. Also, the stone balls were especially
hard on the wood, as evidenced by the many splinters strewn across
the fair meadow. About this time, one of the town’s carpenters began
getting regular visits by locals requesting repairs to their
favorite gowf sticks. Not knowing much about the game, the
carpenter, a curious sort, learned that the nicks and gouges were
caused by the stone balls, and sometimes clubs actually broke into
pieces when one really struck a mighty blow.
Well, one fine day, in walked Andrew McMorris with a rather nasty
gouge in his only club, and right before a big match with James
Dunn. Now, McMorris had never beaten Dunn, who always seemed to hit
his stone further and more accurate… but, with a defective club, any
hope of victory was certainly dashed. The carpenter, having given
considerable thought to the subject, knew that wood against stone
was no match, but wood against wood made logical sense. He told
McMorris that he could repair the club, but one good whack would
probably result in its demise. McMorris was beside himself; however,
the carpenter told him he might get through the match with his newly
invented wood ball. Knowing it was his only chance to play, McMorris
reluctantly agreed and headed to his match, resigned to the fact he
would be thrashed and probably be the fodder of the gowfing
community.
On the first tee, Dunn hit a wonderfully rolling shot straight down
the middle, some 40 yards. McMorris stepped to the teeing ground,
quickly placed the wood ball down, and before Dunn could protest,
swung with his usual gusto. Not only did the ball travel twice as
far at Dunn’s, it actually rose off the ground some three feet and
floated across the meadow to a resting spot within reachable
distance to the hole. Stunned silence engulfed the two men. Nary a
word was exchanged the remainder of the day. Even though he shot his
best score ever, Dunn was crushed. It might be the first time a
gowfer lost every hole. It was the best day of McMorris’ life.
Needless to say, Dunn’s first destination was to the carpenter’s
shop, and the game of gowf was elevated to a new level. Shortly
thereafter, demand for wooden golf balls was so great that the
carpenter had to hire apprentices to keep up the supply. To
compensate for the dwindling number of tree branches, and having
good knowledge of wood joints and splices, the shop began making
clubs in addition to balls, and soon the golf club business was
booming.
The new availability of clubs and balls meant more gowfers and
competitions. The desire to beat one’s opponent had players
constantly modifying equipment, searching for ways to make the ball
go farther and more accurate. In addition to equipment, someone was
always trying to improve the ball, believing the lighter it was the
farther it would fly. Stuffing feathers inside of a leather pouch,
as the Romans did in one of their games, would prove to be a great
discovery. Molding rubber into a round sphere made the game even
cheaper to play, and created a ball so durable that iron clubs could
be forged by the local blacksmith to get over those nasty walls and
out of the ruts left by carriage tires, something wood clubs would
not do easily.
With each new innovation, more players jumped in and play improved.
It was narcotic. The ball was traveling farther and farther. They
made courses longer to compensate, but still the hunger for distance
became ravenous. It certainly has become the opium of the golf
masses. And, all this because one William McMorris outdrove his
opponent by some 40 yards.
Mike Stevens is Southeast Director of the USGTF and golf teaching
pro at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida. He was the 2005
National Hickory Champion and the 2004 US Golf Teachers Senior
Champion. In 2008 he finished second in the National Hickory and
teamed with Mark Harman to win the Southern Hickory Four Ball. He
also owns and operates the Mike Stevens On Target Golf School in
Tampa and Sarasota.
