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Philip Reed’s new book is part
detective story, part golf instructional, and part character study.
It’s a nicely-done blend, thanks
in large part to the man at the center of the story.
Mike Austin is truly one of those
folks who can justifiably be called larger than life.
At the fairly ripe age of 64,
Austin qualified for the Guinness Book of World Records with a 515-yard
drive during the 1974 National Senior Open. By itself, that would have been
enough distinction for most of us. For Austin, however, it was just one of
several remarkable accomplishments over his ninety-some years.
Reed originally sought out Austin
as part of his own attempt to lengthen the results of his home-made swing.
Like most golfers, Reed assumed that if he could just learn to boom the long
ones, his average scores would surely drop.
Meeting Austin led to more than
Reed bargained for. Like many self-made men of his time, Austin was
completely untroubled by humility, and possessed as much tact as the
proverbial bull in a china shop. There was no trace of touchy-feely in this
tall, imposing figure, still capable of intimidating his students despite
the effects of a stroke.
Although Reed was at first put off
by Austin’s prickly personality, eventually he came to appreciate the
influences that helped cause Austin to behave the way he did. He also
learned to believe the frequently outrageous stories Austin would tell,
whether they dealt with his coursework in anatomy, his wartime feats of
derring-do during WWII, or his accomplishments on the PGA Tour.
Although the stories seemed
completely outlandish, especially since they involved only one man’s life,
as Reed discovered they had the benefit of being true.
Reed describes the slow process of
understanding the elements of Austin’s unique yet powerful swing. I confess
I had some trouble understanding how to put the pieces together, and I think
a step-by-step graphic would have helped. On the other hand, Reed also
points out that long-drive champion Mike Dunaway and others are now teaching
Austin’s method. Dunaway is one of Austin’s pupil-disciples, and his
assessment of Austin is a valuable part of this book.
One other important golf lesson
provides the best explanation why, despite his undeniable talent for long,
accurate drives, Austin had a relatively minor career on the PGA Tour. As he
admitted, he couldn’t putt worth a darn. For example, Austin bogeyed the
par-4 on which he made his record-setting drive, thanks to poor putting.
For those of us who are
short-hitters but good putters, this news might provide some small comfort,
even as we fight pangs of jealousy on the tee boxes.
Reed also charts his own progress
toward his stated goal of making a 300-yard drive, thanks to Austin’s
teaching. While I won’t give away the final results, Reed’s improvement is
admittedly stunning, especially since Reed admits that his prior drives
tended to hover around the 200-yard mark.
The real focus of the book,
however, remains with Austin. Reed brings him to life on the pages of this
slender volume, warts and all. Austin is obviously no candidate for
sainthood, but he’s not really a bad man--just driven, and deeply confident
in his own talents, including his self-analysis of his golf technique. He
came across to me as a character I would have really liked to know, a sign
of Reed’s ability to convey this impression.
The book includes several
photographs and clippings, including some startling pictures of Austin
wearing a bizarre outfit during a golf lesson. There’s also an amusing
teaching equipment connection to Tin Cup, the Kevin Costner movie.
Reed’s new book is a potentially
valuable guide to improving one’s swing. More importantly, however, it’s a
helpful contribution to a unique part of golfing history.
Review date: October 14, 2004
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