
I wonder what Ben Hogan would think about the state of the game today. The game, and in fact the world, has changed so much since Hogan teed it up in his final tournament at Colonial nearly 40 years ago. The "Wee Icemon," as the Scots called him, was among the trio of greats with Sam Snead and Byron Nelson who were the prelude to the popularity that Arnie brought to bear on professional golf.
A few months shy of his 19th birthday in 1930, Hogan dropped out of school to pursue his professional golf career, starting at the Texas Open in San Antonio. Over the next decade Hogan would return to his home in Fort Worth several times. Not because he wanted to rest from the rigors of the road, though -- Hogan came home because he was broke. He was plagued by wayward hooks off the tee and a sometimes balky putter, and it would take 10 years before Hogan's legacy, the one that we now know today, was to begin.
So what would a man who lost his father to suicide at a young age, who served his country in World War II and who truggled to finance his golf career think of $1-million paydays and courtesy cars? What would he think of private jets and Ian Poulter's outfits? What would he think of the FedExCup and a $10 million bonus when the first check he ever earned on the PGA TOUR was less than $9?
It has been more than 10 years since the "Wee Icemon" passed away a month shy of his 85th birthday back in 1997. No player's game has been scrutinized as much as Hogan's has. The venerable Bob Toski, who can still be found teaching some of the game's best down in Florida, made the study of his friend's golf swing. Toski, who led the money list in 1954, certainly was not alone in this field of study. Countless books and articles have been written in an attempt to unearth Hogan's secret. The secret is a theory concerning the cupping of the left wrist at the top of Hogan's back swing. Either way, to hear Toski talk about Hogan's golf swing is to listen to an artist describe a masterpiece.
Watch a video of his swing and even to the untrained eye, there is magic in the motion. That may be the only thing about his game that translates to today's style of play on the PGA TOUR. Hogan was the ultimate tactician. When asked once if Tiger Woods was the greatest ball-striker of all-time, Jack Nicklaus said, "no Hogan, easily." The greatest player of all time didn't even hesitate.
Earlier this year, Tiger passed Hogan on the career wins list. Tiger didn't have to take three years off early in his career due to World War II, though. Not to mention, Hogan's career was shortened by a near-fatal accident in February, 1949. Even on bandaged legs, he came back a year later to win the U.S. Open at Merion. That victory was made more famous by the rare black-and-white image of Hogan standing in the middle of the fairway, holding his pose as his 1-iron shot finds the middle of the green at the final hole. He would win in a playoff the next day, his only victory of the year.
The world is a different place now, more convenient and smaller than it was when Hogan steamed across the ocean to play in the British Open. The truth is I don't know what Hogan would think. I would hope that he would be proud that he and his contemporaries laid the foundation for the modern TOUR. And he should certainly be proud of the Crown Plaza Invitational at Colonial and the fact that he is the face and image of the event, even posthumously. Finally, I bet that he would have smiled that nearly imperceptible smile for which he was famous when Phi Mickelson's ball emerged from certain doom on the final hole on Sunday. He would have been impressed by the imagination and courage that pulled it off.