Promoter Jack Kramer wanted both Hoad and Rosewall badly and of the two probably preferred Hoad because of the latter's greater list of triumphs and tremendous power game. At the last minute Kramer sought to complete his coup by offering the two Australian Cuppers each a guarantee of $67,200 tax-free for two years. Rosewall leaped. Hoad wouldn't budge. Why? Bill Talbert, America's Davis Cup captain, has brought the answer back from Australia:
Hoad is interested in professional tennis, but not this year and perhaps not next.
"I don't think I'm ready," Lew has told Jack Kramer. "When I feel I am, you may come around to see me, or I'll come to see you."
Lew told Kramer he first wanted to build his game to its full potential. He feels if he turns pro now he will be just a fat offering for the wolves—or rather the wolf in the form of Pancho Gonzales, king of the mercenaries.
"Pancho probably would chew me up the way he did Tony Trabert and then I'd be through—finished after a year," Hoad said. "I want to work on my game some more. I want to try to win all the major amateur championships [loss in the U.S. at Forest Hills cost him the grand slam last year]. In a year, maybe in two years, I may feel ready to take Gonzales, who will be older. Then I'll turn pro."
END OF A DREAM
Consider the poor golfer. Like the citizen of a police state he is forever squeezed between his own helpless inadequacy and the persecution of the ruling authorities. In the latter instance it is the U.S. Golf Association which is constantly harassing the duffer with rules and regulations that perpetuate his bondage to mediocrity.
Take, for instance, the 1957 Rules of Golf, on which the ink is scarcely dry. On page 68 there is a new section called "Computation of Par and Bogey." Boiled down to its essence, this section simply stretches par into an even more fearsome yardstick for the man who, year by year, finds the air thicker, the ball heavier and his clubs more unwieldy. Under the new rules the yardage for a par 3 hole has been expanded from 220 to 250 yards, for a par 4 from 445 to 470 yards, and anything over 470 yards is now par 5. As a palliative the USGA has offered the duffer a secondary standard called "bogey," in which holes up to 190 yards are rated at 3, up to 370 yards at 4, up to 540 at 5, and everything over that at 6. Nonetheless, every golfer's handicap will still be measured by par, and so, of course, the handicap has been inflated by fiat, like the dollar.
That may not seem so important to some people, but it utterly disregards a basic urge of golf—the duffer's secret, Mitty-like dreams of one day tying all his best holes together for a round in perfect figures. Such a dream now sadly recedes into the mists of impossibility. The USGA slyly rationalizes its heartless new ruling with the pronouncement that "players have gradually developed an ability to achieve greater distance with the golf ball, by one means or another."
Whom do they think they are fooling? It may very well be that the pros and a smattering of strong young men have achieved this "greater distance"—but what about the weekend toiler of rapidly maturing years? For him there is nothing left but the ignominious term "bogey." Come to think of it, the word also describes those men at the USGA. They're bogeymen. That's what they are.