Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius

Synopsis: Robert Tyre Jones, Jr., aka "Bobby Jones" rises from complete obscurity to become a golfing legend. Jones overcomes his own fierce temper, intense passion, and perfectionist tendencies to master the game and win the Grand Slam, the U.S., British, and Amateur Opens in golf, a feat unequaled even today. But it is Jones's style, personality, and character that separate him from the other professionals in his field. When Jones realizes that his unparalleled success may be destroying those he loves he's presented with an astounding proposition, one that shocks the world.
Director(s): Rowdy Herrington
Production: Film Foundry Releasing
  1 nomination.
Rotten Tomatoes:
120 min

Hello, Angus.

Is that really you, Bobby Jones?

Where is everybody?

My Lord.

- How have you been?

- Fine, Bobby. Just fine.

We're on our way to the Olympics in Berlin...

and I couldn't be this close

to the Old Course...

Good Lord.

I only told one person

there was a reservation for an R. Jones.

Angus, my game is...

Your game is always fine here.

Welcome back, Bobby.

- Great to see you, Bobby.

- Smile for the front page.

- You were terrific.

- Thank you, Bobby.

Watch this one, boy.

Sh*t fire!

You looking for this?

- I'm sorry, Camilla, I hooked it.

- You best take care...

you don't hook none of these windows

in this house, young man...

or your daddy will tan your hide.

- How is your tummy today?

- It's okay.

Think you can eat some lunch for me?

I got some leftover chicken and biscuits.

I was gonna make a pie.


- Robert, are you all right?

- Yes, Mama.

Come on in.

I want to see how much you weigh.

Look at you. You've gained another pound.

Can I play baseball

with Frank and Perry now?



Hey! There he is.

I have something in my pocket.

And I wonder what it could be?

You got it. Come here.

Let's go see your mama.

Why did you tell Camilla

this is monkey year?

Not monkey year, honey.

I said it was the Year of the Monkey.

In the Chinese zodiac...

each of the 12 years

is named for a different animal.

So each animal contributes

its own characteristics to that year.

So if you are born in that year,

you take on those traits.

Like a monkey or a horse or an ox.

- What animal am I?

- You, my dearest, are a tiger.

Tigers are born leaders. They are loners.

They have a short temper...

but they go after their ambitions

no matter how hard the opposition.

- What animal are you, Mama?

- I'm a dragon.

- Can you breathe fire?

- Yes, I can.

Especially if I find out...

you've been playing with Frank Meador

while he's still coughing.

You are my little man.

I don't want anything bad to happen to you.

Don't worry, Mama. I'm a tiger.

- Good night.

- Good night, dear.

You're a frightful long ways

from Carnoustie.

And my ass is painful to prove it.

It's a beautiful course.

And some nice people, too.

Free with their money.

- Can any of them play?

- Not really.

If they could,

they wouldn't need you, would they?

They make their whiskey out of corn here.

- You're joking.

- No, I'm not.

We're gonna miss you, Jimmy.

It's great that your brother

could take your place.

It's an honor to have him here.

So, Stewart,

what do you think about my stance?

Go on.

You cannot keep it in the policies,

you're craving for the byre.

Come more down on the left hand.

Sh*t fire!

Show him, Stewy.

Baseball was my game.

I had a contract after I graduated

from Georgia...

with the Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers.

But my father put the quietus on it.

Threatened to disown me.

- I went to law school instead.

- Good idea.


Is that lad touched in the head?

- Wee Bobby?

- Yeah.

No, he's just sickly.

He nearly died as a baby.

Couldn't eat, he's allergic to everything.

They just bring him along for the exercise.

Dirty rotten bastard!

Oh, dear.

Good afternoon, Camilla.

Are you here by yourself?

Yes, Mr. Jones,

they are all yonder playing golf.

Ought to be back directly.

Playing golf on the Sabbath. Blasphemous.

Won't you have a seat and wait?

Let me get you a Coca-Cola.

There's nothing in the Bible

about Coca-Cola.

I will not permit it in my house.

- Just bring me a glass of cold water, please.

- Yes, sir. Coming right up.


Big Bob. Those cost 20 cents apiece.

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Rowdy Herrington

Rowdy L. Herrington (born 1951 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) is a Hollywood director and writer currently residing in Livingston, Montana. He is married and has no children. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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