The first fact anyone will recognize when seeing Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius is that Jesus (Jim Caviezel, Passion of the Christ) plays Bobby! May God not strike me down with lightning, but to a golf aficionado as myself, that fits as well as any actor-to-role in history.

Let's see, I grew up playing golf, watching golf, still loving the game as a pastime, and appreciating the traditions. Bobby Jones is a bedrock foundation of golf, especially here in Atlanta, his hometown. He also built this little course down the road you might have heard of, Augusta National. Of course I'm going to see this movie!

Unfortunately, while Stroke of Genius is a fitting tribute, it didn't leave the audience (or at least me) emotionally invested. What's the telltale sign of such interest? I never got chills. Not once. Wasn't even on the verge. What I can vouch for is that the movie is the kind of movie that inspires the audience to look up the history of the man, the game and the era, and for golf fans you'll come away with a little more knowledge and appreciation for Jones.

	Jones contemplates the controversy when it's revealed his swing isn't genius, just brilliant.

An Atlanta icon, Robert Tyre Jones Jr. was our sport's ace in his time and still today, it's not a stretch to label him the Babe Ruth of golf. A sickly child, he was raised next to East Lake Golf Club, which is still a classic course where I volunteered a couple of years back at the Tour Championship, one of golf's biggest non-major events.

Born on St. Patrick's Day, "luck is not an issue" with Jones' swing. No one will ever say that Jones sought notoriety, shying away from fame as much as possible despite being among the biggest stars in sports at that time, or any time. Just check out the ticker-tape parades in his honor as a testament to his stature.

All the more poignant is that Jones won 13 majors between 1923-30, including the Grand Slam in 1930, never turned pro, and retired at the age of 28. Before that, from the ages of 14 through 20 he couldn't win a major and was considered a disappointment! He wasn't even 21! Not even Tiger had that kind of pressure, or was that good at such an age.

"The face of an angel and the temper of a timber wolf," Grantland Rice wrote in The Saturday Evening Post in 1940. Jones endured losing and settled down by learning lessons in the game's mental tricks from legends Harry Vardon (Aidan Quinn) and Walter Hagen (Jeremy Northam), the latter of which becomes the "sports flick" rule that the enemy becomes the biggest supporter in the end. Screen master Malcolm McDowell is the elder pal and mentor to Jones, Atlanta Journal scribe O.B. Keeler, who seemingly accompanied the young golfer to more events than Jones' parents and acted like a secondary father.

Much of Caviezel's performance aspires to create as much personal drama within Jones as possible. He's wound up, unhappy, sick and short in dialogue with folks around him. Someone should have told Caviezel that while Jesus was sent to Earth to suffer and die for mankind, Jones was not sent to the golf course to agonize for the future of golf. Smile more, Jim! Throw in a bit more funny, a little less emoting, and we'll adore and appreciate the legend as much, if not more.

Claire Forlani, she of the most striking blue eyes in Hollywood, hasn't been around lately, but she dutifully fulfills the role as the "sports wife" here. At first, she's ga-ga before she even knows Jones is famous, then shies from the fame, doubts her husband's motives, then finally succumbs and becomes his biggest fan, motivating her athlete spouse onto bigger and better dreams. If there's any wife of a sports legend not portrayed like this, I'm not sure I've seen the movie.

Director Rowdy Herrington hasn't done much of note, but I have to give credit for one of those late-night TBS guilty pleasures, as he helmed the Patrick Swayze flick Road House! Herrington tries a few tricks to make the film pop, but overdoes the shots as the ball in flight, looking down on the course. Stroke of Genius could have used an editor, also, because it is unnecessarily long at over two hours when the story could have been a half-hour shorter without missing a plot line.

The film was easily noticed to be have been done on the cheap, because there are never more than 20 people in a crowd. To show us it's the 1920s, we're shown period cars and outfits, which becomes the proof we need, but not entirely convincingly, especially since the golf courses are a little too well-tailored for an era that didn't have mowers able to cut grass to the tenth of an inch. But hey, there's an old-time film reel effect, so this must be 1920!

The movie spends quality time recognizing the tradition of the game from the UK, which really is just a good way for me to post a link from my trip to St. Andrews for The Open in 2000.

The bit that may have placed this movie squarely in the old days was its ethics more than the style. It may be corny to say that Jones played for "love of the game," but in this case, the hokieness works, because he never turned pro for just that reason. If he left the rank of amateur and sought a paycheck, the game was played less for pride than money. One would be hard-pressed to find that kind of mindset today, especially when hordes of kids graduate high school and turn professional right off the bat, before they've even grown up.

Contributing to the corny nature, there's all kinds of cute humor, and not exactly the sharpest or most innovative dialogue, punctuated mostly with clich�s and rehashed quotes. But at least it doesn't try to be artsy-fartsy like The Legend of Bagger Vance, instead letting Jones' play supply the poetry.

Because of his ideals, it makes sense that Jones did everything for everyone, and it's no shock that he retired at a young age. When he did so, Jones had plenty of life left to do his own things. Of course, with his game, plus degrees from Georgia Tech and Harvard, and a law degree later, he had plenty of swings at whichever hole he chose.

When Jones retired, the decision was a combination of fulfilling what he wanted in golf, and a nervous disorder later found out to be syringomyelia (affecting the spinal cord) that was near-crippling on the course. It makes his achievements that much more impressive, too, and eventually took his life in 1971 at the age of 69.

To his friends and family, Jones as Bob, but his public persona quickly and forever became Bobby, the kid with an angelic face and the most poetic swing to grace the game. That legend remains, and there's no reason given in Stroke of Genius to withdraw any of the fondness given to Jones' story.

Bobby Jones is like a par five with water running in front. The movie didn't go for glory, it laid up, playing safe for the easy play. No risk, no reward, but everyone walks away feeling okay about what happened.

The movie's not a work of genius, but it is a fair testament to a person responsible for the popularity of the game of golf, for better (birdie!) or worse (bogey). In golf, one good shot brings you back for more, and Stroke of Genius hits a few shots right at the pin to provide an excuse to come again.