Word: putt
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...this match, no moment that spectators could record in their diaries. Memorable instants there were to be sure-Von Elm chipping with his mashie around and over a stymie to win the second hole; Jones failing by six inches to make the hole in one; Jones conceding a hard putt to Van Elm because the latter was bothered by cries from the gallery; Von Elm returning this courtesy; Jones carefully lining a putt on the 17th which he must sink if the match was to go on . . . and Jones missing that putt and standing with a cigaret in his mouth...
Last week another effort was made. Smith, whose mouth turns down at the corners, missed a putt; Sarazen, whose mouth curls up in a grin, holed a birdie 4. Smith, who sometimes falters, shied his drive into the rough; Sarazen, who swings with compact precision, banged far down the fairway. "Ho ho!" cried hasty ones, "You see how this will end!" But Smith, whose wrists are wiry, winged a shot home and sank his putt for a 3. He missed another birdie by an eyelash, then holed a long side- hill recovery putt. He sized up putt after putt thereafter...
...niblick shot between his legs, saw his ball stop 14 feet from the cup. He holed out in two, while Harrison R. ("Jimmie") Johnston, winner of the qualifying medal with a brilliant 141 and favorite to capture the Western Amateur title at St. Paul, missed a two-foot putt. On the 18th green Johnston's putter again faltered. He missed a six-footer and enabled Dolp to square the match. Johnston repeated with a two-foot miss on the extra hole, was eliminated. Dolp then sailed on easily to his first Western Amateur Championship-Chuck Hunter defaulted...
...Metropolitan Open Golf Tournament, after beginning the final round three strokes behind small swart MacDonald Smith , small swart Gene Sarazen regained the three strokes and three more, seemed to have the crown in the bottom of his immense bag. Then, on the last two holes, came a three-putt green and a fumbled approach, and he and Smith were tied...
...slid four yards past the hole. Turnesa, watching, brushed his hand across his forehead. So it was all no use, his own fight over the harsh Scioto course, with its clods like stones, no use, the 294 that meant riches, pleasure, fame. Jones had two to win. His first putt missed. Turnesa was frozen now. If someone yelled, if a lightning bolt fell, if a caddy dropped a bag, Jones might. . . . But already the second putt had clinked into the cup. Jones's score...