After sober reflection, I state my conviction that, if I lived the length of a dozen lives, I should never again be the spectator of such an amazing,
thrilling and magnificent finish to an Open championship.
-Bernard Darwin (1876-1961), The Times of London

Mark Frost has already proven himself a terrific writer, with such television series as the great Hill Street Blues and the innovative Twin Peaks to his credit,
and a few successful novels, including the excellent Sherlock Holmes homage, The List of Seven>, and a sequel, The Six Messiahs. But I don't know that
anything can have prepared even his fans for this book, which, though one must have some reservations about its form, is quite simply one of the best golf
books ever written.

To begin with, Mr. Frost has chosen his topic wisely. Harry Vardon (1870-1937) and Francis Ouimet (1893-1967)--both of whom came from working
class families, had difficult relationships with their fathers, and learned to golf as boys at the local courses where they caddied, Ouimet in Massachusetts, Vardon some twenty-plus years earlier on
the Isle of Jersey--are thoroughly compelling heroes. In 1913 their similar stories converged at The Country Club, in Brookline, MA--the very club at which Francis had caddied--in the United
States Open. Harry Vardon was at that time probably the best golfer in the world and in previous visits to America had been instrumental in marketing the game here. But it was to be the young
amateur Francis Ouimet's playoff victory over the professional Vardon and countryman Ted Ray that, or so Mr. Frost argues, gave birth to the modern golf era in America.

The book starts with extended biographical sketches of the two men and the events that brought them to the tee for their face-off. Numerous other characters are on hand to lend color--two of
whom stand out, and will be the star-making roles in the inevitable movie: the dashing young American professional Walter Hagen (golf's eventual answer to Babe Ruth) and Eddie Lowery,
Ouimet's preternaturally self-assured ten year old caddie. Digressions inform us about changes in rules and equipment, the professionalization of the sport, and its popularization. But it is the
tournament itself that forms the bulk of the book, particularly the final day, the Monday playoff, when the little known twenty year old, playing before large and enthusiastic hometown galleries, on a
course across the street from his own house, had to fend off two of the world's best.

Mr. Frost's prose gets a tad purplish at times, but personally I thought that gave it the feel, of old time sportswriting. Besides, the story is so improbable that the reality seems like a clich?, so why not
write it like a sports movie? More troubling is that Mr. Frost has chosen to provide dialogue and to ascribe thoughts and feelings to the various players even though he has had to create some of it
himself, without ever differentiating which is which. Although it serves his purposes as a storyteller well, fleshing out the characters and letting us see them interact "naturally" with one another, it
actually becomes distracting because you can't help but wondering which thoughts and words come from people's memoirs and contemporaneous accounts of the event (which are apparently
sufficiently extensive so that much of what's here is genuine) and which are purely made up. It also--though we've seen experiments of this kind in recent years, like Edmund Morris's
Dutch--seems more than a little unfair to attribute imagined words and emotions to real people who don't have an opportunity to dispute or confirm them. It would, I think, have been preferable to
simply call the book a novelization, in the tradition of Michael Sharaa's Pulitzer Prize-winning account of Gettysburg, The Killer Angels. At the very least, there should be footnotes to indicate where
truth ends and fiction begins. From an author or publisher's point of view there may be reasons not to do these things--just in terms of the sales and marketing of novels vs. nonfiction and reader
dislike of footnotes--but from a standpoint of intellectual rigor it's somewhat disconcerting.

Once you get past these considerations--and take my word for it, the writing and the story are so exciting that you will get past any questions--you're in for an unbelievably thrilling tale. It's
especially recommended for golf fans, who will find the tangential stuff about the clubs and balls they used just as interesting as the championship, but it should really appeal to everyone, in much the
same way that Seabiscuit reached past horse race fans to a wide audience. It's a marvelous read and seems certain to make for a great movie.