[Yoda]

Cool!

How did he hit it anyway? What do you remember?

I watched Ben Hogan practice at the Masters. As everyone knows, he hit a fade. Most of the time, the ball went pretty straight and just fell to the right. But sometimes, one would get away from him, and the ball worked hard left-to-right. He used to practice only on the tee to the right of Magnolia Lane (looking from the Clubhouse), a tee no longer there. (It is now a dedicated short game area.) And he would practice only from the far right side of that tee. If another player was there, he would wait for that spot!

One morning, Ben arrived and found some poor devil hitting in 'his' spot. Ben stood with his caddy some 6-8 yards back of the offender. Ben lit a cigarette, cupping it in his hand between draws. He stared ahead looking at nothing...and waited.

But not very long!

With the way cleared, the caddy laid Ben's bag flat on the ground—It was just a plain, black leather bag; no fancy logos like all the other pros had; it didn't even have his name on it. Then he dumped the shag balls and hustled out into the range to be used as both a ball retriever and target (not exactly without risk when your boss is Ben Hogan!). In those days, there used to be a hedge down the right side, and Ben would curve the shots back toward it. Most of them landed at the caddy's feet, but the ones that got away...well, it was over the hedge and 'adios amigo' .

As I recall, Ben wore the same outfit every day. Or at least it looked like it: all black laceup shoes (without the kilties or buckles that were popular back then); navy pants; white or powder blue shirt (with a navy sweater if it was chilly); and a white cap (Hogan-style, of course!). Or maybe it was gray pants and a navy shirt. Anyway, he always looked the same...blues and whites and grays.

Another memory:

In the 1964 Masters, Ben was in the hunt late in the 3rd round, and I caught up with him on the 17th tee box. He was registering red numbers like crazy on those big scoreboards, and everybody knew that 'ol Ben was takin' care of business. The next day, he would fade into a tie for 9th behind the winner, Arnold Palmer. But on this glorious Saturday, he would shoot 67 and beat The King by two shots.

Anyway, the roars were echoing through the pines big-time, and even though I was only 17 and a mere spectator, my nerves were jangling with the electricity that can come only at Augusta. As Ben assumed the tee, I distinctly remember wondering if the aging Hawk was feeling it, too. Surely he had to be!

He addressed the ball, waggled once and then stopped abruptly. Without moving out of his stance, he raised his driver a few inches above the ball and proceeded to tap the teed ball down. One tap. Another tap. And then one more. The ball never wavered on its tee. It just went down, down, down. Satisfied that the ball was now at the correct height, the great Hogan waggled once more, and with all the authority and 'swoosh' of his whiplash swing, sent the ball whistling down the middle of the fairway.

I could not believe what I had just seen. I can't do that lttle trick when nothing's on the line, much less under the gun of the most intense competitve pressure. Add one more reason to the list why he was Ben Hogan...

And I'm not!