I Have An Insane Desire

In Golf, Humiliations Are The Essence Of The Game.

I Talk To My Typewriter And That Is What I've Been Working On For 40 Years-how To Write For Talking.

Sir Guy Campbell's Classic Account Of The Formation Of The Links, Beginning With Genesis And Moving Step By Step To The Thrilling Arrival Of 'tilth' On The Fingers Of Coastal Land, Suggests That Such Notable Features Of Our Planet As Dinosaurs, The Prairies, The Himalayas, The Seagull, The Female Of The Species Herself, Were Accidental By-products Of The Almighty's Preoccupation With The Creation Of The Old Course At St. Andrews.

When That Happens [the Demise Of Golf], Old Men Will Furtively Beckon To Their Sons And, Like Fugitives From The Guillotine Recalling The Elegant Orgies At The Court Of Louis Xv, Will Recite The Glories Of Portmarnock And Merion, Of The Road Hole At St. Andrews, The Sixth At Seminole, The Eighteenth At Pebble Beach. They Will Take Out This Volume From Its Secret Hiding Place And They Will Say: "there Is No Question, Son, That These Were Unholy Places In An Evil Age. Unfortunately, I Had A Whale Of A Time."

As Always, The British Especially Shudder At The Latest American Vulgarity, And Then They Embrace It With Enthusiasm Two Years Later