A Few Freak Bets in Golf

Grantland Rice

GOLF is a game that holds a lure all its own even without the element of competition. But there is an added lure when some wager is made to lift the test of a worthy stroke. And still beyond all this golf attains its keenest thrill when some freak wager is made where the lure of the game is added to the lure of the unusual where those involved leave the beaten path where Chance and Fate may stalk upon a level plane with skill.

Only think of the deep emotion that must stir the golfing breast of Mr. Clarence H. Geist of Philadelphia, when he faces a certain Philadelphia friend in a match to be played later on—a match where Mr. Geist has wagered $100,000 against $1,000!

For if he loses Mr. Geist has agreed to donate $100,000 to a Philadelphia hospital—while if he wins his opponent is to put Si,000 into the very excellent Seaview Golf Club, developed by the Philadelphia financier.

Only imagine being called upon to make a down hill, trickling, wiggly putt of 5 feet for $100,000! Or is your imagination that amazingly elastic?

Freak bets in golf have often proved to be severe strains upon the nerves. Last summer Mr. Knowlton (Snake) Ames," Mr. Walter Fearing and Mr. Albert Eaton came from Chicago to Garden City. There a match was arranged in which Mr. Ames and Mr. Fearing were to play Mr. Eaton and Mr. Walter J. Travis.

"All right, we'll take you on," said Mr. Eaton. "What do you mean by 'we'?" asked Mr. Ames. "You won't win a hole."

"I'll bet you I win one, anyway," said Eaton. "You're on for $500," replied his opponent. "And I'll take $500 more of it," cut in Mr. Fearing.

It was too late then for Mr. Eaton to back out, although he had originally no intention of launching any $1,000 wager. Standing upon the 18th tee for a short pitch over the pond, Mr. Eaton kissed the $1,000 a lingering good-bye. He hadn't won a hole—what with his opponents playing well and Travis, over his home course, promoting one par after another. But he had one shot left and it so happened that this one struck short of the pin and finally twisted up to within less than an inch of the cup. When Mr. Eaton stepped up to make his $1,000 putt Mr. Travis took the putter from his hand and handed him a match. A slight tap with the match was sufficient to win one of the freakiest bets of the year.

Which recalls the occasion where three golfers were to play Jerry Travers at Montclair. They insisted that they had a chance to win. Whereat a club member stepped in with this proposition.

"I wouldn't bet that Jerry could beat you on even terms, for that would be highway robbery. But I'll do this—I'll bet each of you a hundred that he can take one club and beat your best ball."

The Triple Alliance jumped at this bet, whereupon Travers lifted out his faithful driving iron and with this club alone proceeded to go around the Montclair course in 76, winning 2 and 1.

DOWN at Augusta last winter James R. Hyde and Henry J. Topping stood together upon a tee where the shot to the green called for a full brassie, even by the leading professionals. Topping noticed that Hyde stood by with an iron in his hand.

"You can't even get there with the wood," Topping said. "Why the iron?"

"Oh a little tap with the iron will be enough," replied the Florida champion.

"$100 to $1 you don't reach the green," was Topping's answer.

"I'll take that," said James R., who immediately slammed the ball up within 10 feet of the cup and collected the hundred with a grin.

One of the great freak bets of golf wagering history was that of Marion Wright's at Newport. The wager was that Mr. Wright could drive a ball from the reading-room at Newport, out along Bellevue Avenue, continue its course over various cottages and through sheltering trees and finally plant the aforesaid ball upon the first green under 100 strokes. His last shot reached the green in 98. It was a close call, but the margin was sufficient to bring him the money—and even more, the satisfaction derived from being able to back up his proposition.

Some time ago at a luncheon at Delmonico's, there were gathered Bob Davis of Munsey's, Irvin Cobb and Sam Blythe of the Saturday Evening Post, and Herbert Corey, now famed as a leading war correspondent in Europe.

An argument arose as to whether Cobb or Corey, was the better golfer. Neither had ever seen a golfmatch or had ever handled a club. And both ranged something beyond 200 pounds in the way of displacement. Davis backed Cobb and Blythe backed Corey for $50 a side. A taxi was subpoenaed and the party forthwith moved to Dunwoodie where the battle was staged, it being understood that neither golfer was to be told what club should be used nor advised as to how it should be used. The match started at the first hole at 3 P.M. It was concluded at the third hole at 4.30 P.M. Cobb won the first hole in 27 strokes against 35. Corey rallied gamely and took the second in 29 strokes against 31. But Cobb broke up the match by grasping the finer points of the game at the third hole, where he turned in a tidy 24, Corey conceding the match where a perfectly played niblick from a deep bunker into the cup would have given him no better than an even 30.

At Chicago, not long ago, one of Chick Evans's admirers made the statement that Chick was the greatest mashie player in the country'.

"Better than Travers or Ouimet?" some one asked.

"Better than anybody," the friend replied. "Why, I'll bet anybody here $100 that Chick can stand 100 yards away and play 50 mashie shots in succession where a caddie can stand and catch the 50 in his cap." Three bystanders immediately took the bet and Evans was called on for the test. And what is more to the point, Chick made good, not a mashie shot out of the 50 dropping beyond range of the caddie's reach.

ONE of the wildest bets ever made at golf came up between Old Tom Morris,at St. Andrews, and a wellknown English earl. At the 17th hole the English nobleman was on the green in 2 while Old Tom was lying in a bunker, deep in a heel print, with an almost impossible shot ahead.

"Why don't you pick up, Tom?" his opponent remarked. "You'll never get out of that place."

"Who knows," said Morris, "I maun even hool it."

"Fifty pounds to a shilling you don't," was the taunt, which the grand old Scot promptly took. A wild smash with the niblick followed, the ball rose neatly from its resting place and dropped into the cup. But the next day when the loser dropped in with the 50 pounds, Old Tom refused to accept the prize. "Ach mon," he said, "I was only foolin'."