Portrait of Golf Legend Ben Hogan - Golf Legend

Dimensions: 18 x 18 x 1.50 inches

Early life

Ben Hogan was born in Stephenville, Texas and raised ten miles away in Dublin, Texas. His father Charles Hogan, a blacksmith, committed suicide when Ben was only nine years old. When Clara Hogan moved the family to Fort Worth, Texas, Ben helped the family put food on the table by delivering newspapers.

Professional Career

Early Struggles

Hogan started playing golf as a pro in 1931 at the young age of 17. He joined the PGA Tour two years later, but still had many flaws in his game, especially a very large hook in his swing. His early years as a pro were very difficult, and he went broke more than once. He left the tour and didn't return until 1937 . He did not win his first pro tournament until 1938, nine years after first turning pro. Hogan's wife Valerie believed in him, and this helped see him through the tough years, when he was still battling his hook, which he later cured

Swing change, start of success

When Hogan's struggles continued, he decided to switch his mechanics, a move that would change his career. John Omicinski, writing for Gannett News Service said, "(Hogan) lost his duckhook and start smashing shots of such purity that people came from miles around just to watch them fly.

http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Ben_Hogan

Contact

Reproductions/Prints are available via my gallery at Fine Art America/Pixel

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Memories of Provence

I'd be leisurely walking back to my gite, taking my time, sitting under trees and chewing on small blades of grass while looking up in to the sky. After a while I put my watercolor pad under my arm, smiling from ear to ear, hurrying just a bit, to get home just before dark. A light gust of wind separates me from my straw hat, and blows it just across the row of lavender behind me. I Leave it without worry, knowing it will still be there tomorrow, I'll fetch it then when I come back. Back in my gite, I'd eat something simple, break little pieces off freshly baked baguette, I love that crunchy noise it makes, remembering my grandmother, who like me, loved plain bread and a glass of wine. Later I'd fall in to bed, thinking about how lucky I am, to be in this heavenly place. ~~~~~ The next day I do it all over, walking on air, free in the countryside among the wild lavender and olive trees.