Man is a ranking animal. He is not content for there to be a multiplicity of greats, all of roughly equal worth. No, there must be a No. 1, a No. 2, a No. 3… Man must rank.
When I was in college, I took a class from the anthropologist Richard Wrangham. I can’t remember what compelled him to say it, but he said, “Anthropologists are not ranked like tennis players, you know.”
Who is currently the No. 1 in tennis, by the way? Jannik Sinner. But that doesn’t mean he’s the GOAT, i.e., the Greatest of All Time. That would be Federer, or Djokovic, or Nadal. Or Laver, or Serena…
The ranking fever certainly exists in music. Mozart or Beethoven? Or Bach? In the middle of the 20th century, who was the No. 1 pianist, Rubinstein or Horowitz? Who was the No. 1 soprano, Callas or Tebaldi? A little later, who was the No. 1 tenor, Pavarotti or Domingo?
Couldn’t you appreciate them all, for their various gifts? No fair. The ranking imperative must prevail.
The sports world is aflame with ranking. In basketball, who is the GOAT, Michael or LeBron? In golf, is it Jack or Tiger?
I always say, “I’m not a ranker,” sometimes as a prelude to going ahead and ranking anyway. This parlor game is hard to resist. Generally, though, I’m of the school that says, “All an athlete can do is dominate his era. He can’t compete against those who have come before him and he can’t compete against those who will come after. All he can do is dominate his own time.”
Bobby Jones, the golf legend, said essentially the same thing. He said it in 1953, when Ben Hogan was dominating the world of golf (as Jones himself once had). Michael Arkush quotes Jones more than once—agreeing with him and kicking against him at the same time.
He does it in his new book, The Golf 100: A Spirited Ranking of the Greatest Players of All Time. He starts with No. 100 and counts down to No. 1. Such ranking is “an impossible task,” as he readily concedes. But this does not daunt or deter him.
There is subjectivity involved, needless to say. But there is also a method to the author’s madness. He has a point system. He awards 2,000 points for each victory in a major, 500 points for second place, 250 for third…
“Major”? Yes, there are four major tournaments, namely the U.S. Open, the British Open, the Masters, and the PGA. In days gone by, the U.S. Amateur and the British Amateur were considered majors.
We used to say that Jack Nicklaus had 20 majors—18 “professional majors” and 2 U.S. Ams. But if Jack has 20, Tiger Woods has 18: 15 professional ones and 3 U.S. Ams. You know when people started saying Jack had 18, instead of 20? About the time Tiger came along, I think.
In The Golf 100, Michael Arkush says that Jack still regards his record as 20—20 majors. And Arkush agrees with him. Which is fine with me: except, in that case, you have to bump Tiger up three.
I have long been uncomfortable with “majoritis,” as I call it: a concentration on majors as the be-all, end-all in golf. They are important, yes, but there are other tournaments, other measures, too.
Take Colin Montgomerie. He never won a major—but he finished second in five of them. He won 54 professional tournaments. He was the leading player on the European Tour in eight seasons, including seven in a row.
I think of the players who have won one major, only. I would disparage none of them (heaven knows). But Montgomerie was a better player, and had a better career, than many of them. Most of them? Possibly.
But I could get lost in the weeds of a parlor game…
Arkush, a veteran sportswriter, begins with John McDermott, his No. 100. McDermott won the U.S. Open in 1911 and again the next year. And the author’s No. 1? Is it Jack or Tiger? We’ll get to that soon.
But look: You can ignore all the ranking, if you wish. The ranking is just a “hook,” a gimmick, if you like. Arkush has produced a collection of 100 articles about golfers: brief lives, mini-bios. They are wonderful. They are full of charm and intelligence. Arkush has read widely, and he has interviewed many of the players themselves.
His tone is conversational, as when he introduces his No. 8, “The Haig”: “I love the stories about the larger-than-life Walter Hagen. Check out this one, for starters.”
Years ago—55 years ago—there was a movie called Five Easy Pieces. Arkush offers 100 breezy pieces, and they go down easy.
The story of John McDermott is actually more poignant than breezy. After his golf glory, when he was still in his mid-20s, he was confined to a mental institution. The following passage is one of the most affecting in the book:
In 1928, Hagen played with him on a short six-hole course on the hospital grounds. His swing, according to Hagen, was “as fluid as ever.”
Roberto De Vicenzo (No. 99) is best known for a mistake, unfortunately: He signed an incorrect scorecard at the 1968 Masters, costing him a chance to win in a playoff. But Arkush reminds us that De Vicenzo won the British Open the year before. At the age of 44, he beat the defending champion, Jack Nicklaus, by two strokes. Jack was in his prime, age 27. Roberto De Vicenzo was an amazing golfer.
Practitioners in one field can remind you of practitioners in another. Arkush quotes Ben Hogan (No. 4), who, in his retirement, said that he had seldom taken a day off practice. If he took three days off, it took him a long while to get back to form. “I had to practice and play all the time.”
I thought of the aforementioned pianist Vladimir Horowitz: “If I take a day off practicing, I know it. If I take two days off, my colleagues know it. If I take three days off, the public knows it.”
May I report that Mr. Arkush shares many of my biases, and crotchets, and that this delights me? He knows that the Senior Tour is really “the Senior Tour,” no matter that they call it “the Champions Tour.” He knows the person you are paired with in a tournament is your “playing partner,” not acceding to the modern “fellow competitor.”
He is irreligious about the Masters. The authorities at that tournament insist that you refer to the gallery, or the spectators, as “patrons.” Arkush thinks this is silly. And he thinks the FedEx Cup is a farce.
Last but not least—oh, not least—he calls the British Open “the British Open,” not “the Open Championship.” He will say “the Open”—about either the U.S. tournament or the British one—when the context is clear.
Halleloo.
I have some bones to pick. I’ll give you two. In his section on Tom Watson (No. 12), Arkush writes, “Watson also made a key discovery during an event later that year in Japan”—a discovery about his swing. What it was, Arkush does not disclose.
And in my opinion, he makes too much sport of Jean van de Velde, for his meltdown on the final hole of the 1999 British Open. (He does this when writing about Padraig Harrington, his No. 96.) Yes, van de Velde blew a three-shot lead. But his up-and-down from the bunker, to get into a playoff, was one of the bravest up-and-downs we have ever seen, given what had transpired.
In the spirit of David Letterman, let’s go to the Top Ten. For Arkush, No. 10 is Harry Vardon. No. 9 is Byron Nelson. No. 8 is Hagen, No. 7 Sam Snead. Nos. 6 through 3 are Mickey Wright, Arnold Palmer, Hogan, and Jones.
So, Jack or Tiger? A common view is this: Tiger Woods played the best golf that has ever been played (in the 2000 U.S. Open, for example, where he beat the field by 15 shots). But Nicklaus, overall, had the better career. He is the greater “champion.”
Pivot to another game for a second. In September 2024, during its 100th-anniversary gala, the World Chess Federation crowned Magnus Carlsen the GOAT. When he stepped to the podium, the man himself demurred.
“I am of course happy to get this award,” said Carlsen, “but in my personal opinion, I still think Garry had a better chess career than I have.” (That would be Garry Kasparov, Carlsen’s great predecessor.) “I understand why I got this award, but he was more deserving.”
Back to Jack and Tiger. Michael Arkush shares the above-stated “common view.” His No. 1 is Jack. He also says that Tiger “underachieved”—did not get the most out of his talent, owing to injuries, etc.—which I believe is true.
But, oh, what he achieved. Can we start with six straight U.S. Golf Association tournaments? Three U.S. Juniors and three U.S. Ams? And that is before he reaches the pros…
You may wonder about my own view of Jack versus Tiger. Forgive me for playing what may seem like dodgeball, but I don’t really know. I go back and forth. They are both so great—in a league of their own, practically.
Over and over, Arkush pleads that his list, his ranking, is imperfect. But again, you can ignore the ranking, as I (largely) did. The Golf 100 is a splendid book about golf and its outstanding figures.
The Golf 100: A Spirited Ranking of the Greatest Players of All Time
by Michael Arkush
Doubleday, 384 pp., $30
Jay Nordlinger writes at Onward and Upward on Substack and is the music critic of the New Criterion.
Read the full article here
