Haven't yet read it -- but here is my colleague Rick Shefchik's review of Dodson's book (and one other), from last June 13th's St. Paul Pioneer Press:
As Tiger Woods begins to look mortal after all, and the previous generation's legends -- Nicklaus and Palmer -- near the ends of the their careers, the golf world again seems to be looking backward with renewed appreciation to its most enigmatic hero: Ben Hogan.
This year's golf books repeatedly invoke Hogan's name with a mixture of respect, awe and near-disbelief that such a golfer once existed. Though he died in 1997, Hogan seems more alive today than ever.
"Ben Hogan: An American Life" by James Dodson (Doubleday, $27.50): Earlier this year, a movie about the life of Bobby Jones appeared and then left theaters as quickly as a bladed wedge leaves a bunker. As great a player as Jones was, the Harvard-educated attorney's story is simply not the kind of come-from-behind sports saga the general public loves.
If Hollywood is looking for the greatest sports story of the 20th century -- a story to rival Seabiscuit for against-the-odds improbability -- it ought to make a movie of Hogan's life, again.
Hogan's rise from the newsstands and caddy yards of Fort Worth, Texas, to golf prominence after 10 years of struggle, only to climb an even higher mountain after nearly being killed in a car-bus crash in 1949, was deemed inspirational enough back in 1950 that 20th Century Fox put it on the screen. The bioflick "Follow the Sun" was a bit corny but a big hit.
And the film didn't even get the beginning or the ending right. The beginning should have been a scene in which Hogan's father commits suicide with a revolver in front of his 8-year-old son, forcing the Hogans into borderline poverty and Ben into a mindset of wariness that he never fully overcame.
And the ending should have been Hogan's astonishing 1953 season, in which he won three of golf's four major championships, including his fourth U.S. Open, on legs that never fully recovered from the bus crash.
The story is so compelling, so frankly hard to believe, that Dodson is retelling it only a few years after Curt Sampson's well-written biography, "Hogan."
Dodson's book is the one golf historians will turn to from now on, however. He has gone much deeper into Hogan's family history than previous biographers, thanks primarily to the cooperation of Hogan's nieces, whom the golfer doted on. Ben and Valerie Hogan never had children, but the nieces benefited from the often hidden warmth and generosity Hogan reserved for those closest to him and those most in need of it. Through their words, a portrait emerges of a much-misunderstood icon who was not nearly as icy as his reputation.
Valerie Hogan, on the other hand, does not fare as well. Always the supportive partner, she became the paranoid caretaker of Hogan's legend after his playing days ended, virtually cutting him off from the outside world in his last years.
"Ben was becoming more open, relaxed and friendly after he left public life," says his niece. "He was far less guarded and a great deal happier, I think. She was going the other way."
If you read this book hoping to discover the secret to Hogan's exceptional ball-striking, you'll encounter a number of swing theories, but you'll come to understand that it was endless, obsessive practice as much as technique that made him so much better than his peers. Dodson also reveals, perhaps for the first time, that impaired vision in Hogan's left eye -- a lifelong residual from the bus crash -- was the primary contributer to the putting woes that eventually drove him from competition.
If you read this book hoping to finally get a fix on what kind of person Ben Hogan really was, you might still come away scratching your head, for Hogan could be charming, gracious, candid and approachable in one setting, and cold, aloof and forbidding in another. There are instances in this book in which he is totally cooperative with the press and jocular with his fellow pros and other times when he almost seems to take a perverse joy in denying anyone access to his real thoughts.
What does become clear is just how hard this man worked to become Ben Hogan and then to become an even greater version of Ben Hogan after nearly losing his life and his career. The effort to be the best took nearly everything out of him, leaving little energy for idle chatter.
Dodson documents many instances in which Hogan's soft-hearted side compelled him to help those who truly needed help; and just as many instances in which Hogan's brusque, direct style stopped fools, snoops and stuffed shirts in their tracks.
Hogan was not a cuddly man, but if any professional athlete may be described as great based on his accomplishments alone, Hogan was a great man. Dodson's book shows that, in many ways, he was a good man, too. Let the cameras begin rolling again.
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"Afternoons With Mr. Hogan" by Jody Vasquez (Gotham Books, $20): This slight volume (160 pages) is the perfect companion to Dodson's biography. Vasquez was a caddy at Hogan's club, Shady Oaks, during the '60s, when Hogan's competitive career was coming to an end. He still hit balls every day, however, and tapped Vasquez to be his shagger.
Vasquez describes in vivid, affectionate detail the experience of standing 200 or more yards from the game's best ball-striker and having shot after shot land one bounce from his feet.
Vasquez takes a shot at revealing Hogan's swing "secret" -- retaining the flex in the right knee on the backswing to support the cupping of the left wrist at the top of the swing, thus preventing a hook. He says Hogan made him promise never to tell anyone, but as likely as this story sounds, it is also similar to others told by other Hogan confidants who describe other swing keys as Hogan's much-rumored "secret." More and more, it appears Hogan had a number of secrets, depending on whom he was talking to.
Vasquez confirms Dodson's assertion that Hogan's damaged left eye was the reason for his putting troubles. He also says, amusingly, that Hogan was occasionally prevailed upon to give lessons to Shady Oaks members and touring pros alike, none of whom was capable of learning anything useful from Hogan's somewhat impatient demonstrations.
There's no question Vasquez and Dodson are writing about the same man -- often generous, sometimes chilly and abrupt, with a sly sense of humor. "Afternoons With Mr. Hogan" is a delightful portrait of one specific part of the life of an enigmatic hero.