Why David Toms Hits So Many Fairways and Greens

PETER KOSTIS I’M NOT. Kostis offered a swing analysis of David Toms during the final round of the Crowne Plaza Invitational at Colonial Country Club. The CBS commentator drew two lines that demonstrated Toms’ unchanging posture during the address, back swing, down swing, follow through and finish. It was a thing of beauty.

I stumbled across the photo at right of Toms that was snapped at the 2004 Ryder Cup at Oakland Hills. I don’t think we need Kostis. Take a good look at it: the footwork, weight shift, extension and especially the head position. Goodness gracious. It’s all there, isn’t it?

(By the way, look at the two guys whose heads are sticking out sideways toward the right-hand side of the photo. I got a kick out of them. They sure were determined to get a look at that velvety Toms action.)

David Toms has a well-earned reputation as a sweet ball striker. Not long—about eight yards below average—but real straight. Another thing about him: tempo. It never seems to change, whether he has a driver or wedge in his hands.

At Colonial, Toms was something like second in both fairways hit and greens in regulation. Throw in some made putts and you can see how the 44-year-old veteran carded those unfathomable back-to-back 62s. But then it got tough on the weekend. It almost always does when you’ve gone five years without a win. A big part of that was due to a tough golf course with weekend pin locations, as well as windy conditions.

This time, Toms slipped by Charlie Wi and hung on. “That just took a lot of guts,” he said.

There were tears of joy for the Toms family in Fort Worth instead of the heartbreak of a playoff loss to K.J. Choi in Florida. CBS pointed the camera at 13-year-old son Carter as he hugged his dad on the 18th green. That was the money shot.

Well, that and the hole out for eagle at the 11th.

−The Armchair Golfer

(Photo credit: James Marvin Phelps, Flickr, Creative Commons license)

The High School Golf Swing of Bubba Watson

A Bubba Watson original at the season opener in Hawaii.

CBS’S PETER KOSTIS DOES A good job on swing analyses. Whereas other golf talking heads sound like they’re blowing smoke, Kostis, as I’ve written, hypnotizes me. He just sounds believable.

But, as I learned yesterday watching the final round of the Farmers Insurance Open, even Kostis struggles to put Bubba Watson’s swing into words. I sympathize. Bubba’s action defies explanation. It just works. Watson had all the shots in his bag this past weekend as he cruised to his second career victory at Torrey Pines.

Not long before Kostis and crew took a slo-mo look at Bubba, Kostis analyzed the swing of Bob Hope Classic winner Jhonattan Vegas. Vegas contended to the very end on Sunday before dumping his second shot into the pond that fronts the 18th green. Vegas’ swing looks like it’s out of a golf instruction book. Kostis drew two lines and a triangle, explaining how Vegas was on plane and returned the club to the same position and angle as at address. Or something like that. The point is, Johnny’s swing is near perfection. Kostis was like a college anatomy professor explaining how and why it works.

After Bubba launched a 363-yard drive on the par-5 13th, Kostis took a swing-vision gander at the lefty from Bagdad, Florida. I can’t remember much of what he said. I just remember thinking he was at a loss for words. Bubba is unconventional, to say the least. It’s fairly easy to see at full speed. He has an open stance and a big loopy swing with a follow through that always has me wondering where the ball is going. In slow motion, it’s crazy. On the backswing—dare I say the longest backswing on tour?—the clubhead is pointing at the ground. And on the downswing, just before impact, Bubba is up on the toes of both feet!

I think I figured out why Bubba can’t be explained with lines and triangles and such. He has a high school golf swing. It’s not a knock. It means he’s untouched, intuitive and creative. He’s never had a lesson or a swing coach. He says he never will.

A high school golf swing is long, natural, athletic. I saw lots of them when I played for Palmdale High in California. They’re raw, loopy, wristy and powerful. High school golfers who advance in the game usually shorten and refine their swings as they grow and mature. They adopt “positions” and shed the untamed golf swings of their youth. (I used to have a backswing as long as John Daly—when I was 14. Now I can’t turn past parallel.)

Bubba is self taught, unchanged. He’s refined a one-of-a-kind swing that busts 350-yard drives and curves shots 30 yards to the left or right.

“I’ll never change from that,” he told SI’s Farrell Evans last year. “I’ll keep playing golf the way I know how to play it and hopefully that will keep me on tour.”

I think Bubba is going to be around for a while.

−The Armchair Golfer

Zach Johnson, Golf and God

Editor’s note: The following is an excerpt from Whiffling Straits, a golf blog authored by Mike Zimmerman. Read the entire post here.

By Mike Zimmerman
Special to ARMCHAIR GOLF

LET’S START WITH ZACH JOHNSON, who on Sunday won the Crowne Plaza Invitational at Colonial. Walking off the 18th green, he had this to say to CBS’s Peter Kostis:

I feel honored. They say everything’s big in Texas, but I know there’s one thing bigger and that’s my God. And I want to lift this up to Him and give Him the glory, because the peace and the talent that He’s given me I don’t deserve. But I’m very thankful.

I understand that you might not share Johnson’s beliefs, and even that you might not appreciate him proclaiming them after a victory. But I really don’t understand the hostility. Where’s the “tolerance” everybody always says you’re supposed to have?

I think at least part of it comes from a misunderstanding of how guys like Johnson “mix” golf and faith. There’s a scene in The Simpsons where Bart and Todd Flanders—son of the Simpsons’ annoying born-again Christian neighbor Ned—are about to square off in the finals of a miniature golf tournament. Homer spots Ned and his family praying before the match. “Hey, Flanders!” Homer says. “It’s no use praying. I already did the same thing and we can’t both win!” But then Flanders explains that he was actually praying that nobody would get hurt.

And that’s where I imagine a complaint lies. “Why would God care who wins a stupid golf tournament when there is so much suffering going on in the world?”

Another objection, I suspect, is the idea that Johnson thinks God might want him to win more than the other guy. I will acknowledge there are probably well-intending Christian athletes who believe that if they pray hard enough and sincerely enough that balls will bounce their way and victories will result. But I don’t think that Johnson fits that category, and he expressed as much in the press room after the tournament. When asked what it was like to play with good friend Ben Crane in the final round, he replied:

We’ve been good friends for years. Our families are good friends. We are both Christians, so we had a lot in common. Walking with him today [at] Colonial on Sunday was great. It was an honor because we’re so close. I pray for him and he prayed for me. I’m not saying that’s why we play well, but we pray for peace and contentment. I think there is a lot of truth to that.

Years ago I had what you might call a religious conversion: I recommitted my faith in Jesus Christ and made the practice of Christianity a central focus of my life. And an interesting thing happened (actually, a lot of interesting things happened, but only one of them had anything to do with golf): I suddenly started playing the best golf of my life. It wasn’t because I started going to church on Sunday. It wasn’t because God was guiding my shots or altering my swing. And it certainly wasn’t because I was praying to shoot lower scores (the thought never even occurred to me). It was happening because I was at peace: with God, with the world, with myself.

Call it religion if you want, call it spirituality if you prefer. I call it the focus of my life. And that doesn’t change—if I can help it—whether I’m off the course or on it.

And if others can’t appreciate that, then, well ... I’ll just pray that no one gets hurt.

Mike Zimmerman is a writer who lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Visit his golf blog, Whiffling Straits.

(Image: Keith Allison/Flickr)