Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius Page #4

Mister, don't you ever waste

a fancy telephone

Slide, slide, when I glide, glide, glide

To the music of the slide trombone

He looks sluggish.

He played well this morning.

Don't worry, Colonel. I think he's ready.

He learned his lesson at St. Andrews.

I'm picking him to win it all.

Hell, Grantland, everybody is.

Is it me, or does he look like he's limping?

Oh, God, no.

He's gonna go for it.

Son of a b*tch!

Are you okay?

- Are you all right, ma'am?

- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that.

It's all right. I'm fine.

Really, I'm fine.

I'm sorry.

It is from George Walker himself.

You want me to read it again?

"You will never play

in another USGA event...

"until you can learn to control your temper. "

Do you understand what this means?

Sit down! I'm not finished yet.

Son...

I know how difficult this is for you.

The pressure.

I understand this entire town

is rooting for you.

Betting on me.

You have to forget about all that.

Forget about those other guys.

You have all the talent in the world.

It is time for you to step up and be a man!

If I win, does that make me a man?

Is that what it takes?

Come back here.

What's the matter with your leg?

Robert, what's the matter?

- My God. How long has it been like this?

- Weeks.

Camilla, call the doctor!

Varicose veins. At his age.

I keep thinking back to Merion...

when he was 14.

There was so much promise.

You're disappointed in him.

I didn't say that.

You didn't have to.

Dear Mr. Walker, I want to

formally apologize to you...

and USGA for my behavior

in St. Louis this fall.

I want to assure you that in the future,

I will act with all civility.

And that I will never again show ill temper

in any way, shape, or form on a golf course.

You have my word on this.

Yours sincerely, Robert Tyre Jones, Jr.

He speaks six languages.

A little bit closer.

Smile, Bob.

I saw your son play baseball at Georgia.

He was a terrific player.

That would be the poorest compliment

you could pay him.

What are your plans, Bob?

Will you take up golf professionally?

You should think about it.

Pros are making some big money nowadays.

Look at Walter Hagen.

You'd earn a lot more

than any other professional golfer.

I was thinking of enrolling in Harvard

this fall.

My mother would like me

to get a master's in literature.

But you are gonna play

in the major tournaments this summer?

Isn't he, Colonel?

That would be up to him.

Sir Walter...

I heard he's broken all 11

of the Ten Commandments.

It's not true, Perry.

He just can't bring himself to attempt

more than six of them at a time.

Good morning.

Which one of you boys is gonna be second?

Proceed, my good man. I don't have all day.

After four rounds at the US Open...

Bobby Jones and Bob Cruickshank

are tied at 76.

Jones blew a three-stroke lead

down the stretch...

finishing, in his own words,

"like a yellow dog. "

Cruickshank made two crucial birdies

as Jones faltered in the second playoff.

Bobby Jones

is the best shot-maker in golf...

but it seems he just can't win.

The playoff tomorrow...

Idle hands are the devil's workshop.

Walter Hagen finished three strokes back.

Did you get any sleep?

Did you?

The betting is 10-to-7 on Cruickshank.

He's got the momentum,

coming from behind.

And they're saying

that you're weak under the belt.

That's what they're saying?

This playoff...

it means a fortune to Cruickshank.

You'll just be playing for pride.

This telegram came for you.

What's it say?

"Keep the ball in the fairway...

"and make all the putts go down. "

And it's signed...

Robert Tyre Jones, Sr.

Grandfather.

In case you haven't realized it yet...

you're the best golfer in the world.

Now, when you get that through your head...

you're not just gonna win one tournament.

You're gonna win them all.

Ladies and gentlemen, the contest

for the 1923 Open Championship...

will continue with a playoff between...

Mr. Robert Tyre Jones, Jr.,

and Mr. Robert Cruickshank.

Stewart, how you doing?

Good, thanks. Where's Big Bob at?

He thinks he's a jinx. He won't be coming.

Good idea.

Mr. Jones has the honors.

Bobby, hit hell out of it.

Jones birdied the seventeenth.

They're even, with one to play.

He should lay up.

- Well played, Bobby.

- Congratulations.

I've finally won a championship.

I don't care what happens now.

...the goods, at all times, after delivery

to Coca-Cola or a transportation company-

Yes, Doris?

Sorry to interrupt, sir, but it's Major Cohen

of the Atlanta Journal.

Excuse me.

Hello, Major.

Hot damn and hi-dee-ho!

Boys, I think we have a champion.

Congratulations.

- How long you been selling real estate?

- Just a couple of months now.

When's your next tournament?

The US Open, next month.

But golf is not as important...

as finding the right house

for you and your wife.

I think she wants a word with you.

- I don't like this house!

- But, honey, this is Bobby Jones.

Who's better than us?

You better show me something today, kid.

Anyone can win one Open.

Official.

I caused my ball to move.

- Y'all didn't see it move?

- No.

We've talked with Walter...

all the officials,

and several people in the gallery...

Nobody saw your ball move.

It seems a matter for you to decide.

Are you sure you caused that ball to move?

I know I did.

You're to be congratulated, son.

Sir, that's like congratulating a man

for not robbing a bank.

I don't know how else to play the game.

Bobby Jones lost the US Open

by one stroke.

In calling a penalty on himself...

he demonstrated for all of us

the highest ideal of sportsmanship...

and personal honor.

I am prouder of him than if he'd won.

There are things finer

than winning championships.

Nice shot, Bob.

Beautiful!

That was a beating I'll not soon forget.

Come on, let's go get drunk.

This was billed as

the unofficial world championship of golf.

Why do you think

it was so lopsided a victory?

When Walter had to putt...

he made it every time.

It's documented that you shun the limelight.

How do you feel

being the most famous golfer in the world?

I don't think I am.

I think Walter's

much more famous than I am.

No, I'm infamous.

I think fame's overrated, anyway.

They asked Enrico Caruso

what he thought of Babe Ruth.

He said, "I don't know,

I never heard her sing. "

What's your handicap

coming into this season, Sir Walter?

Same as last year.

Drink and debauchery.

I just want to say one thing.

Even if he had won today...

Bobby Jones would've walked away

without a dime...

and I would've gotten the purse.

Now, Bob realizes that a professional

makes his living out of the game.

And I want the world to know

that I appreciate his immense generosity...

in coming here to play in this event.

This is a small token of my esteem.

Thank you, Bob.

Consolation prize.

Doesn't look like it's going to be

a very promising year, does it, Bobby?

Not a very promising year for Bobby Jones?

I'm here to eat my words, sports fans.

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