s were halved in 4, 5, 4, 4, 4,
4, 4, 5, 4, 4. Then Park drew first blood, but in the end I finished two
up on the day's play. When Park came to Ganton three weeks later, I beat
him on the two matches by 11 up with 10 to play. Naturally he was
disappointed, but he was very sportsmanlike. He was acknowledged to be
the greatest match-player of his time. I do not care for myself to lay
any more stress on the importance of this match, or of the value of my
own achievement; but those who have taken up golf quite lately can have
no conception of the stir that it caused. It was the event of my
lifetime.

The remembrance of this encounter brings forward the question of big
money matches generally, which several people have declared they would
like to see renewed. Fifty years ago they were common enough, and there
are great stories told of foursomes between Allan Robertson and Tom
Morris on the one side and the brothers Dunn on the other for a stake of
L400, and so on. The sightseers of golf ask why there are no such
matches now. I think it is because golf professionals have to work too
hard for the money they earn, and they do not care for the idea of
throwing it away again on a single match. They do not receive large
"benefits" or gate money, as do professionals in other branches of
sport. So they deem it best to be careful of their savings. Besides,
such matches tend to create bad feeling among the players, and we
professionals are such a happy family that we distrust any scheme with
such a tendency. Moreover, golf at the present time is a delightfully
pure game, so far as gambling is concerned--purer than most others--and
such matches would very likely encourage the gambling idea. That would
be a misfortune. I contend that after all, for the best and fairest and
most interesting trial of strength there is nothing like a good
tournament where each player has to test himself against all comers.
Every man plays to win, the golf is generally good, and what more is
wanted?

When I won the Championship again in the following year at Sandwich, my
success was chiefly due to my brassy play, which was better than it ever
was before or has been since. From my brassy strokes the ball was often
enough laid dead near the hole; certainly my second shots were always
the winning shots. The game seemed very easy to me then, and I gained
the Championship for the third time with less difficulty than on either
of the two previous occasions. In