British Open

Only two amateurs in history have won the British Open Championship: the first, was Harold Hilton who won it in 1897; the second is Robert Tyre Jones.

It was a bad tournament for the British. One by one they dropped behind, Sir Ernest Holderness, Cyril Tolley, Robert Scott, Abe Mitchell, and the three men within striking distance of the winning score were Americans--Jones, Hagen, Al Watrous. From the first tee of the course at St. Ann's they drove off to play the last 36 holes, Jones paired with Watrous, Hagen follow-ing behind.

Squating beside every green, milling through the crowds that followed the players, were U. S. reporters, looking for drama. They were disappointed. The drama in any medal tournament is the drama of endurance; a man's opponent is the game of golf. If Hagen had been playing a match with Jones, then niblicks would have spurted epigrams, drivers snapped dialogue, sparkling marivaudage would have clicked in every putt. . . . But Jones was not playing Hagen. He was playing golf.

It was not the golf that Jones set himself to play, the picture golf of his qualifying round. It was assured, brilliant, dependable-- not fabulous. Hagen, that master of tensions, came along in the rear, looking to see what was wanted. In the morning he saw that Jones wanted two strokes to be even with Watrous. At the 9th hole in the afternoon he still wanted them. At the 18th hole, the 144th hole of the match, Jones had them, and two more beside. His final score was 291. Watrous had taken 293. And to tie the winning score on the last hole Hagen wanted a 2. He drove and then, with a characteristic gesture, told the boy to take the flag out of the cup. He intended, it appeared, to sink his approach. The ball rushed at the hole, bounced from the lip of the cup, finished in a bunker.

Still in his plus fours, Jones thanked the officers of the club who let him hold in his hands for a moment the cup on whose silver sides his name will be inscribed. Then he caught a midnight train for Southampton, boarded the Aquitania.

In Atlanta, 100 frenzied townsmen chartered a special train to go to meet him in Manhattan and bring him home.

Said Walter Hagen to London reporters: "When people ask me why it is Britishers get licked at golf, I've only got one answer. . . . They're too gosh-darned lazy. . . .

"Never mind about the sportsman stuff. That follows if one is a good golfer.

"Now, I don't believe we Americans will come over here for the championships for a few years. What's the good if all we are going to do is beat one another . . ."