"What gets me," he said, looking over at the host, "is how he can do a
day's work with all this social powwow going on."
"A day's? He does three days' work in every one. He's the hardest
trained mind in the business. Why, he could sit down here this minute,
in the middle of this room, and dictate an editorial while keeping up
his end in the general talk. I've seen him do it."
"He must be a wonder at concentration."
"Concentration? If he didn't invent it, he perfected it. Tell you a
story. Ban doesn't go in for any game except polo. One day some of the
fellows at The Retreat got talking golf to him--"
"The Retreat? Good Lord! He doesn't belong to The Retreat, does he?"
"Yes; been a member for years. Well, they got him to agree to try it.
Jim Tamson, the pro--he's supposed to be the best instructor in
America--was there then. Banneker went out to the first tee, a 215-yard
hole, watched Jim perform his show-em-how swing, asked a couple of
questions. 'Eye on the ball,' says Jim. 'That's nine tenths of it. The
rest is hitting it easy and following through. Simple and easy,' says
Jim, winking to himself. Banneker tries two or three clubs to see which
feels easiest to handle, picks out a driving-iron, and slams the ball
almost to the edge of the green.
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