The Vedic Observer

Transcendental Commentary on the Issues of the Day

Lord Kṛṣṅa on the Battlefield of...Golf?

by Satyarāja dāsa

FIVE YEARS AGO, William Morrow & Company published Steven Pressfield’s novel The Legend of Baggar Vance: Golf and the Game of Life, which quickly attracted a wide audience. The book follows in a long line of fictional works on golf and mysticism. The forerunner of the genre is Michael Murphy’s 1972 classic, Golf in the Kingdom, in which a godlike character, Shivas Irons, teaches the mortal world of the parallels between the secrets of golf and the secrets of life.

In Pressfield’s book, instead of Shivas (read: Shiva, the demigod of destruction), we have Bagger Vance (read: Bhagavān, “the Holy One,” a name for the Supreme Lord, Śrī Kṛṣṅa), and the story is essentially an inventive retelling of the Bhagavad-gītā. Pressfield obviously knows his Gītā well, and this is reflected throughout his novel.

The setting of Bagger Vance revolves around a golf tournament at Krewe Island, off Savannah, Georgia’s, windy Atlantic shore. The year is 1931, and we are here to watch an engaging thirty-six-hole match in which Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen, legends of golf in their own time, are joined by a reluctant opponent, the famed but troubled war hero Rannulph Junah (read: R. Junah, or Arjuna, Kṛṣṅa's devotee). The outcome of the game, as we soon see, depends more on Bagger Vance, a caddie who carries the secret of “the Authentic Swing,” than on the talents of the golfers. His inscrutable wisdom and mysterious powers guide the play and leave a lasting impression, not only on R. Junah but—sixty years later—on a brilliant but discouraged young medical student. Like the Gītā, then, the instructions of Bagger Vance are not just for R. Junah, but for Everyman.

Although the Gītā is never mentioned directly (except one verse, which opens the book), the parallels are uncanny. Bagger Vance, tall and dark (like Kṛṣṅa), turns the game field into something more, the battlefield of life. He instructs R. Junah in a good deal more than golf, and by the end of the novel it becomes clear that Bagger Vance is no ordinary mortal. “I come again in every age,” says Vance, “taking on human form to perform the duty I set myself. I return to right the balance of things. . . . Forget all else Junah, but remember this: You are never alone. You have your caddie. You have me.”

I spoke with Pressfield, the author of Bagger Vance, and he told me that he had always been interested in the Gītā and appreciated the idea of Bhagavān, God, humbling Himself to become the charioteer of His devotee Arjuna. In the same way, Pressfield said, a caddie, as qualified as he may be, takes the humble position of assisting the golfer.

In an interview published on the Bagger Vance web site, Pressfield reveals more about the book:

The idea behind Bagger Vance was to do the Bhagavad Gita contemporarily. In the Gita the troubled warrior Arjuna receives instruction from Krishna, Supreme Lord of the Universe, who has assumed human form as Arjuna’s charioteer. Instead of a troubled warrior, it’s a troubled golf champion (Rannulph Junah); instead of his charioteer, it’s his caddie—Bagger Vance. . . . Golf, as everyone knows who has played it and loved it, is a very mystical sport. A golf course is like a battlefield. It even looks like a battlefield, with its rolling ramparts and redoubts.

Hearing the Gītā’s Message

It is clear from Bagger Vance that Pressfield has high regard for the Gītā, generally interpreting it according to traditional models. The Vaiṣṅava tradition (with roots in the Gītā), however, explains what might be missed in a general reading: that texts such as the Gītā are meant to be understood in certain esoteric lineages. The Gītā itself declares this to be true. (4.2) Moreover, the Gītā says that to truly understand its internal message, one must be a devotee and friend of Lord Kṛṣṅa: bhakto ’si me sakhā ceti. (4.3) While Pressfield’s use of the Gītā may be a bit unorthodox, there is much to suggest that he is, by some measure, Kṛṣṅa's devotee and friend. Nonetheless, without the disciplic succession, it is difficult to get all the Gītā has to offer.

His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda, author of Bhagavad-gītā As It Is and one of the world’s leading authorities on the Vaiṣṅava tradition, writes in his commentary on the Gītā (18.75): “This is the mystery of the disciplic succession. When the spiritual master is bona fide, then one can hear the Bhagavad-gītā directly, as Arjuna heard it. . . . If one does not come to the disciplic succession, he cannot hear Kṛṣṅa; therefore, his knowledge is always imperfect, at least as far as understanding Bhagavad-gītā is concerned.”

In his commentary on Śri Īśopaniṣad, Mantra 13, Prabhupāda writes:

When Lord Śrī Kṛṣṅa was present on this earth, the bhakti-yoga principles defined in Bhagavad-gītā had become distorted; therefore, the Lord had to reestablish the disciplic system beginning with Arjuna, who was the most confidential friend and devotee of the Lord. The Lord clearly told Arjuna (Bg. 4.3) that it was because Arjuna was His devotee and friend that he could understand the principles of the Gīta. In other words, only the Lord’s devotee and friend can understand the Gītā. This also means that only one who follows the path of Arjuna can understand Bhagavad-gītā. At the present moment there are many interpreters and translators of this sublime dialogue who care nothing for Lord Kṛṣṅa or Arjuna. Such interpreters explain the verses of the Bhagavad-gītā in their own way.... Such interpreters believe neither in Śrī Kṛṣṅa nor in His eternal abode. How, then, can they explain Bhagavad-gītā?

The Legend of Baggar Vance is not exactly what Prabhupāda is writing about here. It is not a formal commentary on the Gītā, nor is it a direct statement on Kṛṣṅa's teachings. Rather, it is a well-written work of fiction with many Gītā-inspired themes and ideas. Naturally, it sometimes differs from the perspective of the disciplic succession. For example, while philosophizing about “the golfer” and “the golf field”—reminiscent of the Gītā’s “the knower” and “the field”—Baggar Vance puts forward the monistic idea of the two becoming one. He says that enlightenment is attained when “the Knower” and “the Field” become identical. You have to “become the game, get so immersed in the game that you can’t tell where it begins and where you end.”

Clearly, you never really become the game. You become immersed in the game, but there is always a distinction between you and the game. And there is a distinction between you and God, too. Bhagavad-gītā is clear on this, even if The Legend of Bagger Vance is not. The Gītā states that the knower of the field and the field are eternally separate. It explains the field of activity (the body) and the process of understanding one’s relationship with the body—and with God. This relationship is understood by the soul (the self), the knower of the field. According to the Gītā, understanding the distinction between the field and the knower of the field is the first step in God realization. From this point, one can progress toward realizing God.

Several other problems with the Bagger Vance text become evident when seen in the light of the Bhagavad-gītā: Vance’s message ultimately convinces R. Junah that he should stay in the game. But why? It seems he should continue his worthy game/profession/life simply because of its mystical existential nature—for its own sake. But an equally legitimate response would be to drop out of life altogether. Isn’t renunciation an equally honorable path? Bagger Vance has no response. Love for the mystery of life, for duty, the game, the battle—in and of itself—seems to be implied. But what about love for Vance, for Kṛṣṅa? Where is the message of love of God, which is intimate and personalistic? This is a main point in the Gītā; it is nowhere to be found in The Legend of Bagger Vance.

Pressfield does a brilliant job of communicating the great mysteries of life but neglects the theme of devotional service. Bhagavad-gītā teaches that service to the Lord is the greatest component of love. This may be considered the central teaching of the Gītā. But Pressfield leaves it aside. Such subtle philosophical nuances sharply distinguish the message of the Gītā from that of The Legend of Bagger Vance.

Finally, life is not a game. The real Arjuna was fond of the hunt; he was a warrior, a gamesman. But enlightenment came to him on the field of his profession. And he took it seriously. The metaphor of life as a mystical, existential game can be dangerously irresponsible. Bagger Vance may assume too much of its audience, expecting them to see the game of life, analogized with the game of golf, as something more than a passing frivolity. A game, by its nature, is to be taken lightly.

It should be remembered that Baggar Vance does not pretend to be scripture, to reveal “the truth.” The book, as far as it goes, renders a great service—it ignites interest in the Gītā among those who may not have had such an interest. Still, if a book is going to be that close to the Gītā, a person who knows the Gītā will naturally look for points of commonalty and difference.

Creative Teaching

Aside from a few rough areas, though, Bagger Vance is thought provoking, presenting the fundamental teachings of the Gītā in a creative way. For example, while an existential crisis besieges R. Junah, Vance helps him understand his true identity, much as Kṛṣṅa reminds Arjuna that he is the soul rather than the body:

“Tell me who you are, Junah. Who, in your deepest parts, when all that is inauthentic has been stripped away. Are you your name, Rannulph Junah? Will that hit this shot for you? Are you your illustrious forebears? Will they hit it? . . . Are you your roles, Junah? Scion, soldier, Southerner? Husband, father, lover. Slayer of the foe in battle, comforter of the friend at home? Are you your virtues, Junah, or your sins? Your deeds, your feats? Are you your dreams or your nightmares? Tell me, Junah. Can you hit the ball with any of these?” . . . Vance pressed yet harder, “Then who are you? Answer me!”

Bagger Vance elaborates on the spiritual dimension of reality and explains that all beings partake of this higher nature.

Gītā parallels go further. Bagger Vance offers a brilliant analogy involving yoga (the path of discipline), jñāna (the path of knowledge), and bhakti (the path of devotion), acknowledging the supremacy of bhakti over the others. While explaining how to master the Game, Vance describes three possible approaches:

The first path, I heard him say, was the path of Discipline. It had something to do with beating balls, with endless practice, an utter relentless commitment to achieving physical mastery of the game. Second was the path of Wisdom. I heard practically nothing of what Vance said here (I was checking yardage to three separate bunkers off the eighteenth) except, I believe, that the process was largely mental—a study of the Swing much like a scientist might undertake: analysis, dissection, and so on. Third (and this I heard most of) was the path of love. . . .

Vance goes on to explain that the path of love is the most effective. If you love the Game, you have the greatest chance of being a great player. The other paths are important, but bhakti is supreme.

Throughout the book, Vance describes the search for the “Authentic Swing,” which, he says, is metaphysically tantamount to the search for “the Self.” While the book may or may not help people find the Authentic Swing, the author seems to have found something: the recently released paperback version of his book is swinging rapidly from store shelves to home libraries.

What’s next—“Bhagavad-gītā, The Movie”? Well, not exactly. Filming of The Legend of Bagger Vance was completed on schedule last December. The movie, directed by Robert Redford, will be in theaters this year. Award-winning actors Will Smith and Matt Damon will portray Bagger Vance and R. Junnah, respectively. But don’t expect to learn Bhagavad-gītā from the movie: If the Bagger Vance book is a few golf holes short of the Gītā, the movie is on another playing field altogether. The Gītā-like mysticism is snuffed out of the Bagger Vance character, and he appears like a mere trickster instead—the wise one is replaced with a wise guy.

Nonetheless, people in the know are saying this will be the blockbuster movie of the year. Critics are already calling it “a major hole-in-one.” But for the real deal behind the Bagger Vance story, one would do well to read Bhagavad-gītā As It Is, by Kṛṣṅa's devotee and friend His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda. For the Gītā, it might be said, is “The Holy One’s Hole-In-One.”

Satyarāja Dāsa is a disciple of Śrīla Prabhupāda and a regular contributor to BTG. He has written many books on Kṛṣṅa consciousness. He and his wife live in New York state. This article is adapted from the introduction to his forthcoming book The Mystical Tradition Behind Bagger Vance.