My Shot: Dave Stockton

My father, Gail Stockton, was a good player, an individual conference champion when he played at USC and later a pro and an outstanding teacher. There's a picture on my wall of him conducting an exhibition with Walter Hagen. When I took up the game seriously, Dad gave me one rule I was to never violate, and that was to never hit more than five balls in a row with the same club. He was a demon about that, and I haven't come across a better practice rule since. It makes practicing more challenging and less ego-fulfilling because you don't have time to get grooved with that one club. But it makes your practice 10 times more productive.

I learned early on the importance of responsibility and keeping a commitment. At the 1976 PGA Championship at Congressional, play on Sunday was washed out and the final round was rescheduled for Monday, which worried me because I was supposed to do an outing for American Airlines in Washington, D.C., that day. Well, after I made a 15-foot putt on the last hole to win by a shot over Ray Floyd and Don January, I looked at my watch. After I got finished with the press interviews and the presentation ceremony, I showered up and got a ride to D.C. The American Airlines people were getting ready to leave when I strolled in with the trophy and even the oversize check they gave me. I talked for an hour and a half. You've never seen a more grateful group of executives in your life.

Golf should feel as natural as driving your car. But in competition, most amateurs suddenly start playing as though they just spotted a cop in their rearview mirror. What came naturally suddenly becomes mechanical—they place both hands on the wheel, check the speedometer and so on, all the while taking their eyes off the road to steal glances in the mirror, feeling uncomfortable as they wait for the lights to start flashing. The trick, of course, is to see how far you can go before you notice the cop. And when you do see him, summon the nerve to keep one hand on the wheel and not check the speedometer.

I'm proud to say I never noticed the cop. When I made the 15-footer to win the 1976 PGA, I felt no pressure at all. I really didn't. I treated that putt the same as any other and just made as good a read and as nice a stroke as I did normally. Now, I didn't have a career like Jack Nicklaus or Arnold Palmer, but it wasn't because I played like I had the cop in my rearview mirror. I just couldn't drive the car like those guys could.

I won two majors and nine regular tournaments. I played on two Ryder Cup teams and captained another. I finished second in the 1974 Masters and the 1978 U.S. Open. But I haven't come close to getting in the Hall of Fame. It was sort of heartening seeing Larry Nelson get in, because he had a great career and one that was similar to mine in terms of accomplishments. But it hasn't happened, and I haven't really come close. It bothers me a bit that Lanny Wadkins, Hubert Green and I haven't received the required number of votes, but on the other hand, I could take it or leave it. It's not the sort of thing they put on your gravestone.

Annika Sorenstam and I were doing a corporate outing years ago, and she asked for help with her putting. Annika's problem was, she was too technical, too mechanical, and she didn't let her creative side come into play. Once she learned to do that—improved her green reading and her imagination, went from hitting the ball to stroking it more smoothly, and one or two other secrets—she became a very good putter. That's when she began her dominant run. She gave me a very expensive rifle as a present.

Here's one of the secrets I gave Annika: You do not focus your eyes on the ball when you putt. You pick a spot one inch in front of the ball that you want the ball to roll over, and that's where you look. My whole career, I knew whether the ball was going into the hole within a split second after it left the face of the putter, because if it went over that spot an inch in front of the ball, it was going in the hole. Try it for a week, and I can all but guarantee you'll putt better than you ever have.

Never rely on a tip for more than a week. Tips—those great little thoughts that get great results—never last longer than seven days. About five days into that tip, you better start looking for a fresh tip, because the first one is about to run its course.

My wife, Cathy, owns what I believe to be a world record. She has a scorecard with every score from 1 through 8 on it. In her round of 89, she had a hole-in-one, a birdie, a par, some bogeys and a collection of "others."

Cathy has had both knees replaced, and to understand why, just know that she and I once hiked 38 miles into the back country of Alaska to hunt sheep. We hiked in and hiked out. She's a crack rifle shot who has half the Grand Slam of sheep. This is the same woman who was a Maid of California, a beauty queen, the best mother our two boys could have, and my constant travel partner throughout my 42-year career. I've told her it's the cement of the shopping malls that brought on those knee replacements, but deep down I know that wasn't it.