KOHLER, Wisc. - Nobody noticed it at the time. Nobody.
After a wayward second shot on the 18th hole, Dustin Johnson stood over his ball and thought about his options. He had a one-shot lead in the PGA Championship, thanks to birdies on 16 and 17, but this was no time to press his luck. A bogey, after all, got him into a playoff, and that was a much better fate than what would happen if he tried something stupid.
Johnson put his club behind the ball, the backed off, distracted by a shadow. He stepped up again and hit his shot. It was an absolute beauty, right on the green. He was putting for the win. And though he missed the par putt that would have given him the PGA Championship, his first major, he was able to walk off the green satisfied that he was one of three men in a playoff.
And then the rules official put his arm around his shoulders.
The Straits Course at Whistling Straits Golf Club is unlike any course you will find in Wisconsin. Pressed up against Lake Michigan, the course was designed like a traditional Scottish links course, with rolling hills, long grass, and bunkers galore. Many players playing it in 2010 might have thought they were playing the British Open all over again.
Aside from the numerous bunkers within the holes, the course had acres and acres of waste area, places where sand and grass mixed together with no real regard for boundaries. During the PGA Championship, this area was roped off, the domain of spectators, but that's where Johnson hit his fateful shot on the 18th hole. His ball landed in one of the sandy areas that wasn't really a bunker.
The problem, however, was that the PGA of America had determined that all these waste areas would be treated as bunkers during the championship. Most players didn't pay much attention to that ruling - after all, it certainly didn't affect how they would play the shot. But it had a major effect on the final results of the tournament.
Before Johnson backed away from the distracting shadow on the 18th hole, Johnson's wedge had hit the ground. In normal circumstances, this was no problem. But since all the waste areas were being treated as bunkers, he had broken a rule. Rule 13.4b, to be exact: A player may not "touch the ground in (a) hazard or water in (a) water hazard with his hand or a club." Since those areas had been declared bunkers, and since Johnson touched his club to the ground before hitting, he had committed a penalty.
Of course, it seems like a petty rule. Johnson, like many other players, didn't realize that all the waste areas were considered bunkers, so he didn't know he was breaking the rule. For those arguing that ignorance of the rules is no excuse for breaking them, it could be (easily) argued that he gained no advantage from grounding his club before hitting it. But a rule is a rule, and Johnson had to pay the price. In this case, it was steep: Instead of walking off the green to go prepare for a playoff, he was forced to take a two-shot penalty, dropping him to a tie for fourth place, out of the playoff.
Immediately, Johnson became a tragic figure. People couldn't believe a player had lost a major because of an inadvertent rules violation. Afterwards, more attention was paid to Johnson than to Martin Kaymer, the eventual winner, and Bubba Watson, who also played in the playoff. He became more famous for losing a major than Kaymer did for winning.
As it is, Johnson got done in by breaking a rule he didn't know he was breaking by doing something that nobody caught until they saw the replay on TV. It's not fair, but it's a part of the game. And he'll always be remembered not for how he won a tournament, but for how he lost one.
Showing posts with label golf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label golf. Show all posts
Monday, August 15, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
April 11, 2010: For Family
When I started the countdown of greatest daily sports moments, I knew I'd have some fairly lame days. Not every day could have an exciting or historic sports moment. That would just be asking too much.
My first one came 11 days in, on April 11, when I had to settle for the final game for both Gordie Howe and Bobby Hull. I mean, really? That's the best I could find? I didn't even know they had ever been teammates until I was scrambling to find something, anything, to put for April 11.
Then Phil came to the rescue.
His second shot on the 13th hole in the final round of the 2010 Masters would have been enough to knock Howe and Hull out of this day's spot if Mickelson had won that tournament. But then he hugged his wife, tears flowing down his cheeks, and dedicated the win to her, and that was it. The most emotional golf victory in years had to make the cut. The last time I changed the best moment of a day was a somewhat difficult decision. This one was a slam dunk.
AUGUSTA, Ga. - How did he have the courage to even try that shot? Behind three trees, ball sitting on pine straw, the distant green protected by a creek designed to gobble up any shot hit short.
It seemed like the textbook definition of when a golfer should lay up, not try to be the hero but just survive to the next hole. Nobody would have blamed Phil Mickelson for making the safe play.
But Mickelson didn't become a household name in golf by taking the safe play. For years, he both delighted and frustrated his fans with his often reckless play, getting into and out of trouble with amazing frequency.
Still, though, now that he was older and had a few majors under his belt, you'd think he'd play it safe. So what inspired him to hit that incredible shot on the 13th at Augusta? What gave him the confidence that he could get it anywhere close to the hole? How on earth did he get that shot within three feet?
Five holes later, we saw the answer. After Mickelson sank the putt on 18 to clinch his third Masters title, he walked off the green and hugged his wife, Amy. And the tears started to flow. And we knew. We knew where he found the strength and the courage. He looked at her, following him on the golf course for the first time since she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and he saw her strength. That's where he got his.
Mickelson has won four majors in his career, and likely isn't done. He's hit many incredible shots, celebrated dozens of victories. But he'll always be remembered for the 2010 Masters, and his shot from behind the trees, and the tears that came afterward.
My first one came 11 days in, on April 11, when I had to settle for the final game for both Gordie Howe and Bobby Hull. I mean, really? That's the best I could find? I didn't even know they had ever been teammates until I was scrambling to find something, anything, to put for April 11.
Then Phil came to the rescue.
His second shot on the 13th hole in the final round of the 2010 Masters would have been enough to knock Howe and Hull out of this day's spot if Mickelson had won that tournament. But then he hugged his wife, tears flowing down his cheeks, and dedicated the win to her, and that was it. The most emotional golf victory in years had to make the cut. The last time I changed the best moment of a day was a somewhat difficult decision. This one was a slam dunk.
AUGUSTA, Ga. - How did he have the courage to even try that shot? Behind three trees, ball sitting on pine straw, the distant green protected by a creek designed to gobble up any shot hit short.
It seemed like the textbook definition of when a golfer should lay up, not try to be the hero but just survive to the next hole. Nobody would have blamed Phil Mickelson for making the safe play.
But Mickelson didn't become a household name in golf by taking the safe play. For years, he both delighted and frustrated his fans with his often reckless play, getting into and out of trouble with amazing frequency.
Still, though, now that he was older and had a few majors under his belt, you'd think he'd play it safe. So what inspired him to hit that incredible shot on the 13th at Augusta? What gave him the confidence that he could get it anywhere close to the hole? How on earth did he get that shot within three feet?
Five holes later, we saw the answer. After Mickelson sank the putt on 18 to clinch his third Masters title, he walked off the green and hugged his wife, Amy. And the tears started to flow. And we knew. We knew where he found the strength and the courage. He looked at her, following him on the golf course for the first time since she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and he saw her strength. That's where he got his.
Mickelson has won four majors in his career, and likely isn't done. He's hit many incredible shots, celebrated dozens of victories. But he'll always be remembered for the 2010 Masters, and his shot from behind the trees, and the tears that came afterward.
Monday, February 7, 2011
February 7, 2000: Seven down, seven to play
PEBBLE BEACH, Calif. - OK, this was getting ridiculous. It's easy to concede that Tiger Woods was the best golfer in the world. In fact, it was by this point a pretty lazy argument to make. Even the question of whether he was the best golfer of all time was getting absurd - after five straight victories, most of them in dominating fashion, even those arguments were starting to sound silly. But this - this was getting absurd.
As Woods teed off on the 12th hole in the final round of the 2000 Pebble Beach Pro-Am, he was seven shots behind tour rookie Matt Gogel. After he rolled in his final putt on the 18th green, he was the victor by two shots, a stunning turnaround that enabled Woods claim to his sixth straight victory. Three birdies and an eagle helped Woods gain back five shots from Gogel, while Gogel gave the rest back himself with four bogies coming in.
But it wasn't just Woods' remarkable back nine that was the story here. Those nine holes - or rather, those seven holes if you want to be specific - marked the beginning of a season where Tiger Woods played better than anybody had ever played before. Most tournaments seemed like they were over the moment he applied to play in them. Great players, even major-quality players, wilted under the pressure of merely playing with him. And as Woods dominated golf like no one ever before him, television ratings for the sport shot through the roof, and Woods became one of the most famous athletes in the world.
Woods' streak of consecutive tournament wins stopped at six, and he somewhat surprisingly didn't win the Masters in 2000. But from then on, he was unstoppable. His record-shattering performance at that year's U.S. Open - coincidentally, back at Pebble Beach - was hailed by many as the greatest performance in golf history, though his annihilation of the field at the British Open the next month rivaled that for dominance. He won the PGA with another record-setting score, even if he needed a playoff to do it.
In all, Woods won 10 events in 2000, the peak of a three-year run in which he won 23 events and firmly established himself as the greatest golfer of his generation. But he was perhaps never better than on the back nine at Pebble Beach, where he made a seven-shot deficit disappear into thin air.
As Woods teed off on the 12th hole in the final round of the 2000 Pebble Beach Pro-Am, he was seven shots behind tour rookie Matt Gogel. After he rolled in his final putt on the 18th green, he was the victor by two shots, a stunning turnaround that enabled Woods claim to his sixth straight victory. Three birdies and an eagle helped Woods gain back five shots from Gogel, while Gogel gave the rest back himself with four bogies coming in.
But it wasn't just Woods' remarkable back nine that was the story here. Those nine holes - or rather, those seven holes if you want to be specific - marked the beginning of a season where Tiger Woods played better than anybody had ever played before. Most tournaments seemed like they were over the moment he applied to play in them. Great players, even major-quality players, wilted under the pressure of merely playing with him. And as Woods dominated golf like no one ever before him, television ratings for the sport shot through the roof, and Woods became one of the most famous athletes in the world.
Woods' streak of consecutive tournament wins stopped at six, and he somewhat surprisingly didn't win the Masters in 2000. But from then on, he was unstoppable. His record-shattering performance at that year's U.S. Open - coincidentally, back at Pebble Beach - was hailed by many as the greatest performance in golf history, though his annihilation of the field at the British Open the next month rivaled that for dominance. He won the PGA with another record-setting score, even if he needed a playoff to do it.
In all, Woods won 10 events in 2000, the peak of a three-year run in which he won 23 events and firmly established himself as the greatest golfer of his generation. But he was perhaps never better than on the back nine at Pebble Beach, where he made a seven-shot deficit disappear into thin air.
Friday, January 7, 2011
January 7, 1938: Breaking down gender roles
LOS ANGELES - Babe Didrikson had started to become a household name in 1938. After starring in the 1932 Olympics and playing on a touring baseball team, she started to focus her athletic goals on golf. It was the sport she was best at and the sport at which she would make her biggest impact.
One thing that hurt her career in golf, though, was the ruling that she could not play as an amateur, despite her very limited experience playing sports for money. With very few professional golf options available for women at the time, Didrikson did what she had to do: she signed up for a men's tournament.
On January 7, 1938, six decades before Annika Sorenstam became famous for competing in a men's tournament, Didrikson teed off in the first round of the Los Angeles Open. Playing at the Griffith Park course in Los Angeles' large urban park of the same name, Didrikson shot 81-84, missing the cut. It was a disappointing result, but it was groundbreaking nonetheless.
Didrikson eventually regained her amateur status and starting winning women's tournaments all over the country. She turned pro and founded the LPGA, still winning tournaments and majors before illness ended her career and life.
Didrikson was already famous when she teed off in the Los Angeles Open, and the tournament didn't really change her name recognition. But it did lead to a change in her name. Her playing partner for both rounds of the tournament was George Zaharias, and a connection must have been made; 11 months later, they were married, and Babe Didrikson became Babe Didrikson Zaharias.
One thing that hurt her career in golf, though, was the ruling that she could not play as an amateur, despite her very limited experience playing sports for money. With very few professional golf options available for women at the time, Didrikson did what she had to do: she signed up for a men's tournament.
On January 7, 1938, six decades before Annika Sorenstam became famous for competing in a men's tournament, Didrikson teed off in the first round of the Los Angeles Open. Playing at the Griffith Park course in Los Angeles' large urban park of the same name, Didrikson shot 81-84, missing the cut. It was a disappointing result, but it was groundbreaking nonetheless.
Didrikson eventually regained her amateur status and starting winning women's tournaments all over the country. She turned pro and founded the LPGA, still winning tournaments and majors before illness ended her career and life.
Didrikson was already famous when she teed off in the Los Angeles Open, and the tournament didn't really change her name recognition. But it did lead to a change in her name. Her playing partner for both rounds of the tournament was George Zaharias, and a connection must have been made; 11 months later, they were married, and Babe Didrikson became Babe Didrikson Zaharias.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
November 27, 2009: Crash
WINDERMERE, Fl. - The first news reports were straightforward: Tiger Woods was in a car accident outside his home. The back window of his car was broken, and he was found with a cut on his head and asleep in the street. Very strange, mildly scary, especially since the first reports said he was in "serious" condition.
Details started coming out: Woods' wife had apparently broken the window of his car in an attempt to get him out faster; the broken glass had caused the scratches. Then, it came out that Woods was sleeping in his street because he had taken a pain medication.
Then the questions: how did he run into a fire hydrent at the end of his own driveway? He had to know it was there. Plus, where was he going in such a hurry? He really needed to go screaming out of his driveway at 2:00 in the morning? Something wasn't right.
It was here that the legend, the carefully constructed personality of Tiger Woods began to quickly unravel. Why was he leaving so quickly? Most likely, he had been having an argument about the allegations of cheating that were revealed the day before. Did his wife actually break the window trying to get him out of the car, or had she smashed it in anger trying to get at him?
By the time Woods came clean about his infidelity a couple weeks later, it was everywhere. He had slept with countless women, had made frantic phone calls and text messages he had sent out asking for their silence (who can forget "Huge. Quickly. Bye"?). It was shocking.
And America couldn't get enough. Here was this clean-cut golfer, one who could supposedly do nothing wrong, and it turns out everything people had assumed about him was wrong. His behavior was no different than that of many other athletes who got famous too young and too quickly, but the fact that it was Tiger Woods doing these things made it the story that wouldn't go away.
His personal life in shambles, Woods retreated into relative obscurity. He stepped away from golf to go into sex addiction therapy in a last-ditch hope to save his marriage (it didn't work). He greatly reduced his golf schedule while he tried to work out his personal life, and he didn't win a tournament in 2010. His carefully crafted image was shattered, crashed into pieces, and it's still unknown exactly how long the effects will last.
One of the proudest, most seemingly untouchable athletes of his time had become humbled. He had spent 12 years on a golf course making many people think he was superhuman, only to be revealed as someone who was all too human. And it all started when he backed his SUV into a fire hydrant.
Details started coming out: Woods' wife had apparently broken the window of his car in an attempt to get him out faster; the broken glass had caused the scratches. Then, it came out that Woods was sleeping in his street because he had taken a pain medication.
Then the questions: how did he run into a fire hydrent at the end of his own driveway? He had to know it was there. Plus, where was he going in such a hurry? He really needed to go screaming out of his driveway at 2:00 in the morning? Something wasn't right.
It was here that the legend, the carefully constructed personality of Tiger Woods began to quickly unravel. Why was he leaving so quickly? Most likely, he had been having an argument about the allegations of cheating that were revealed the day before. Did his wife actually break the window trying to get him out of the car, or had she smashed it in anger trying to get at him?
By the time Woods came clean about his infidelity a couple weeks later, it was everywhere. He had slept with countless women, had made frantic phone calls and text messages he had sent out asking for their silence (who can forget "Huge. Quickly. Bye"?). It was shocking.
And America couldn't get enough. Here was this clean-cut golfer, one who could supposedly do nothing wrong, and it turns out everything people had assumed about him was wrong. His behavior was no different than that of many other athletes who got famous too young and too quickly, but the fact that it was Tiger Woods doing these things made it the story that wouldn't go away.
His personal life in shambles, Woods retreated into relative obscurity. He stepped away from golf to go into sex addiction therapy in a last-ditch hope to save his marriage (it didn't work). He greatly reduced his golf schedule while he tried to work out his personal life, and he didn't win a tournament in 2010. His carefully crafted image was shattered, crashed into pieces, and it's still unknown exactly how long the effects will last.
One of the proudest, most seemingly untouchable athletes of his time had become humbled. He had spent 12 years on a golf course making many people think he was superhuman, only to be revealed as someone who was all too human. And it all started when he backed his SUV into a fire hydrant.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
September 26, 1999: The Battle at Brookline
BROOKLINE, Mass. - It was not an easy putt for Justin Leonard - 50 feet away, a big break, hard to read the slope through the late afternoon shadows, and so on. But then, nothing about that week had been easy for the Americans.
Entering the final day of the 1999 Ryder Cup, the United States was in a seemingly insurmountable hole. Trailing 10-6, the heavily favored Americans had put themselves in a position where even one loss in the singles competition on Sunday would lead to defeat. In fact, the Europeans were in such an advantageous position that they could have won the Ryder Cup without winning a match on Sunday; a half in eight of the 12 matches would be enough to clinch.
So it was on to the singles, where most golf analysts acknowledged that the Americans had the edge, but a 6-point deficit was probably far too much to overcome. It would take 12 players playing near perfect golf for them to take home the championship.
Sunday began, and the scoreboard started filling up with American flags. At first, it seemed like they had just gotten off to a hot start in the front nine, and it seemed like somebody would blow their lead. But then the matches started going final. Davis Love III won 6 and 5, Tom Lehman won 3 and 2, Phil Mickelson won 5 and 3. They weren't just victories, they were routs. Hal Sutton won in another rout, 4 and 2, and suddenly, the competition was tied. David Duval put the Americans ahead with a 5 and 4 win. The turnaround was shocking, and it wasn't even done. After Tiger Woods and Steve Pate won, the Americans had improbably won the first seven singles matches of the day.
The Europeans showed some mettle, winning two of the next three, but the Americans had 14 points when Leonard lined up his putt on the 17th green. If he could win this hole from José Maria Olazabal, the worst he could do was halve the match, which would give the Americans the 14.5 points they needed to win the Cup. But he was faced with a long, nearly impossible putt on 17.
Which is why he celebrated the way he did when the putt dropped. Throwing both arms in the air, he ran off the green in celebration, chased by his exuberant teammates, who mobbed him in celebration. The problem was, though, that Olazabal still had a putt to try, a putt that if he made it would keep the match tied
going into 18. The Americans had celebrated before the Cup had been clinched. It was fortunate, then, that Olazabal missed, officially giving the Cup back to America.
While the Americans celebrated, the Europeans steamed, some calling the display the worst act of sportsmanship they had ever seen. The European press continued the charge, calling the celebration a "disgrace" and a "horror show" in large, front-page headlines. The biggest problem may have come with the fact that the Americans danced right in the line of Olazabal's putt, but for his part, he never claimed their celebration had anything to do with his miss.
Steaming, the Europeans got the best revenge they could, winning the next three Cups, including two that were among the biggest routs in the competition's history. Despite the European response, Leonard's putt has remained as one of the defining moments in the event's history.
Skip ahead to 4:18 for Leonard's putt
Entering the final day of the 1999 Ryder Cup, the United States was in a seemingly insurmountable hole. Trailing 10-6, the heavily favored Americans had put themselves in a position where even one loss in the singles competition on Sunday would lead to defeat. In fact, the Europeans were in such an advantageous position that they could have won the Ryder Cup without winning a match on Sunday; a half in eight of the 12 matches would be enough to clinch.
So it was on to the singles, where most golf analysts acknowledged that the Americans had the edge, but a 6-point deficit was probably far too much to overcome. It would take 12 players playing near perfect golf for them to take home the championship.
Sunday began, and the scoreboard started filling up with American flags. At first, it seemed like they had just gotten off to a hot start in the front nine, and it seemed like somebody would blow their lead. But then the matches started going final. Davis Love III won 6 and 5, Tom Lehman won 3 and 2, Phil Mickelson won 5 and 3. They weren't just victories, they were routs. Hal Sutton won in another rout, 4 and 2, and suddenly, the competition was tied. David Duval put the Americans ahead with a 5 and 4 win. The turnaround was shocking, and it wasn't even done. After Tiger Woods and Steve Pate won, the Americans had improbably won the first seven singles matches of the day.
The Europeans showed some mettle, winning two of the next three, but the Americans had 14 points when Leonard lined up his putt on the 17th green. If he could win this hole from José Maria Olazabal, the worst he could do was halve the match, which would give the Americans the 14.5 points they needed to win the Cup. But he was faced with a long, nearly impossible putt on 17.
Which is why he celebrated the way he did when the putt dropped. Throwing both arms in the air, he ran off the green in celebration, chased by his exuberant teammates, who mobbed him in celebration. The problem was, though, that Olazabal still had a putt to try, a putt that if he made it would keep the match tied
going into 18. The Americans had celebrated before the Cup had been clinched. It was fortunate, then, that Olazabal missed, officially giving the Cup back to America.While the Americans celebrated, the Europeans steamed, some calling the display the worst act of sportsmanship they had ever seen. The European press continued the charge, calling the celebration a "disgrace" and a "horror show" in large, front-page headlines. The biggest problem may have come with the fact that the Americans danced right in the line of Olazabal's putt, but for his part, he never claimed their celebration had anything to do with his miss.
Steaming, the Europeans got the best revenge they could, winning the next three Cups, including two that were among the biggest routs in the competition's history. Despite the European response, Leonard's putt has remained as one of the defining moments in the event's history.
Skip ahead to 4:18 for Leonard's putt
Monday, September 20, 2010
September 20, 1913: The caddie from across the street
BROOKLINE, Mass. - Imagine growing up across the street from a golf course, so close that stray shots going toward the 17th green could end up on your front porch.
Imagine that this proximity gave you the advantage of being able to caddy at that club starting at a young age, a job that allowed you to play the course whenever you wanted. It's quite an opportunity, because at this time in America, golf was played only by the rich, not by a low middle-class family like yours.
Eventually, you improve your play enough to get some regional notice, all because of your opportunity to caddy at this great course across the street from your house. Then, the U.S. Open, the national championship, is played at that course. What an opportunity! Think of all the great players you'll get to watch.
Except instead of watching, you're playing.
Francis Ouimet was fortunate to grow up across the street from The Country Club in Brookline. His time caddying and practicing there made him a very accomplished young golfer, and when he won the 1913 Massachusetts Amateur at the age of 20, he seemed to have a bright future. But even he had to be surprised when Robert Watson, the president of the USGA, personally asked Ouimet to play in that fall's U.S. Open at his home course. Of course, the answer was yes.
There must be something to be said for home-course advantage in golf, because Ouimet had the week of his life, ending regulation play tied with Harry Vardon and Ted Ray on top of the leaderboard. Vardon and Ray, two Englishmen, were considered the two top golfers in the world at that time, so for Ouimet to be mentioned in the same breath with those two was accomplishment enough.
But then, the 18-hole playoff started, and Ouimet shocked the world. The 72 he shot was five shots better than Vardon and six clear of Ray, and the most improbable U.S. Open champion in history was crowned. He was the first amateur champion of the event, and only the second American to ever win the national championship.
Ouimet's win had a resounding effect on American golf. What was once seen as a sport played only by Europeans or by the elite suddenly became a game for the masses. At the time of his victory, the vast majority of American courses were private; within a decade, public courses were everywhere and the number of American golfers had tripled.
Ouimet remained an amateur his entire career, winning the U.S. Amateur in 1914 and 1931. A third-place finish in 1925 was the closest he ever came to winning the U.S. Open again. But it didn't matter. His win in 1913 was one for the ages, and one that would never be forgotten.
From left: Harry Vardon, Francis Ouimet, and Ted Ray before the playoff
Imagine that this proximity gave you the advantage of being able to caddy at that club starting at a young age, a job that allowed you to play the course whenever you wanted. It's quite an opportunity, because at this time in America, golf was played only by the rich, not by a low middle-class family like yours.
Eventually, you improve your play enough to get some regional notice, all because of your opportunity to caddy at this great course across the street from your house. Then, the U.S. Open, the national championship, is played at that course. What an opportunity! Think of all the great players you'll get to watch.
Except instead of watching, you're playing.
Francis Ouimet was fortunate to grow up across the street from The Country Club in Brookline. His time caddying and practicing there made him a very accomplished young golfer, and when he won the 1913 Massachusetts Amateur at the age of 20, he seemed to have a bright future. But even he had to be surprised when Robert Watson, the president of the USGA, personally asked Ouimet to play in that fall's U.S. Open at his home course. Of course, the answer was yes.
There must be something to be said for home-course advantage in golf, because Ouimet had the week of his life, ending regulation play tied with Harry Vardon and Ted Ray on top of the leaderboard. Vardon and Ray, two Englishmen, were considered the two top golfers in the world at that time, so for Ouimet to be mentioned in the same breath with those two was accomplishment enough.
But then, the 18-hole playoff started, and Ouimet shocked the world. The 72 he shot was five shots better than Vardon and six clear of Ray, and the most improbable U.S. Open champion in history was crowned. He was the first amateur champion of the event, and only the second American to ever win the national championship.
Ouimet's win had a resounding effect on American golf. What was once seen as a sport played only by Europeans or by the elite suddenly became a game for the masses. At the time of his victory, the vast majority of American courses were private; within a decade, public courses were everywhere and the number of American golfers had tripled.
Ouimet remained an amateur his entire career, winning the U.S. Amateur in 1914 and 1931. A third-place finish in 1925 was the closest he ever came to winning the U.S. Open again. But it didn't matter. His win in 1913 was one for the ages, and one that would never be forgotten.
From left: Harry Vardon, Francis Ouimet, and Ted Ray before the playoff
Saturday, August 28, 2010
August 28, 1954: Palmer's big step
GROSSE POINTE FARMS, Mich. - It was, as one sports writer put it, a dream matchup. On one side was Bob Sweeny, a 43-year-old British millionaire famous around the world for his high living lifestyle. On the other was Arnold Palmer, a 24-year-old paint salesman who grew up the son of a golf pro in suburban Pittsburgh. The two would be battling for the U.S. Amateur championship at the Country Club of Detroit.
Along with the disparate backgrounds, the two were contrasts in their playing style, as well. Sweeny was known as one of the best putters in the world, mastering the finesse part of golf, while Palmer was a grip-it-and-rip-it type of player, hitting towering drives on every hole.
As they teed off for the championship match on August 28, 1954, they were in different stages in their golf career. Sweeny had won the British Amateur championship in 1937 and was already a well-accomplished amateur player. A win in this year's tournament would simply be icing on the cake. Palmer, living in Cleveland after finishing his stint in the Coast Guard, was at a career crossroads. He had just won his first important tournament, and a win in the U.S. Amateur would help build his confidence in a future career in professional golf.
Sweeny played like the player with nothing to lose, jumping out to a quick 3-hole lead after 4 holes. Included in his run was a 40-foot birdie putt that seemed to deflate Palmer. After the 4th hole, though, Sweeny said to Palmer, "Look on the bright side. You know there's no way I can keep this up."
Sweeny proved prophetic, as Palmer won the 8th, 9th, and 10th holes to tie the match. From then, it was a back-and-forth battle, with Palmer's booming drives, often 40 yards farther than Sweeny's, going against the Englishman's pinpoint accuracy.
By the time the two teed off on the 36th and final hole of the day, Palmer was one hole ahead. He hit his final drive right down the middle, while Sweeny pulled his behind two trees. As they walked up the fairway, Sweeny said "Congratulations, you've won," conceding the match. The match official who was with them told the players to finish the hole anyway, saying it would be called a 1-up victory for Palmer. Because of this, nobody knew that Sweeny had actually conceded until 50 years later, when Palmer told the story.
Palmer's win elevated him to among golf's most popular players. Here was a guy from a decidedly middle-class background who had a chance to dominate the game. The fans took to his background, personality, and style of play instantly, and he remains as popular today as he was after his U.S. Amateur win in 1954.
Along with the disparate backgrounds, the two were contrasts in their playing style, as well. Sweeny was known as one of the best putters in the world, mastering the finesse part of golf, while Palmer was a grip-it-and-rip-it type of player, hitting towering drives on every hole.
As they teed off for the championship match on August 28, 1954, they were in different stages in their golf career. Sweeny had won the British Amateur championship in 1937 and was already a well-accomplished amateur player. A win in this year's tournament would simply be icing on the cake. Palmer, living in Cleveland after finishing his stint in the Coast Guard, was at a career crossroads. He had just won his first important tournament, and a win in the U.S. Amateur would help build his confidence in a future career in professional golf.
Sweeny played like the player with nothing to lose, jumping out to a quick 3-hole lead after 4 holes. Included in his run was a 40-foot birdie putt that seemed to deflate Palmer. After the 4th hole, though, Sweeny said to Palmer, "Look on the bright side. You know there's no way I can keep this up."
Sweeny proved prophetic, as Palmer won the 8th, 9th, and 10th holes to tie the match. From then, it was a back-and-forth battle, with Palmer's booming drives, often 40 yards farther than Sweeny's, going against the Englishman's pinpoint accuracy.
By the time the two teed off on the 36th and final hole of the day, Palmer was one hole ahead. He hit his final drive right down the middle, while Sweeny pulled his behind two trees. As they walked up the fairway, Sweeny said "Congratulations, you've won," conceding the match. The match official who was with them told the players to finish the hole anyway, saying it would be called a 1-up victory for Palmer. Because of this, nobody knew that Sweeny had actually conceded until 50 years later, when Palmer told the story.
Palmer's win elevated him to among golf's most popular players. Here was a guy from a decidedly middle-class background who had a chance to dominate the game. The fans took to his background, personality, and style of play instantly, and he remains as popular today as he was after his U.S. Amateur win in 1954.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
August 25, 1996: Undeniable
PORTLAND, Ore. - Who is Steve Scott?
No, we're not playing Jeopardy. We're simply posing a question. Who is Steve Scott? He's the golfer who came close to dethroning Tiger Woods at the U.S. Amateur Championship, the man who came ever so close to stopping Woods' run at a third straight Amateur championship.
Through 18 holes on August 25, 1996, Scott was five holes up on Woods. Woods was scuffling, nothing was going right for him. It seemed like his run at history was going to get derailed. He would fail where so many great golfers before him had, coming short in his quest to be the first man to win three straight Amateur titles.
But then he became Tiger Woods, the fearsome golfer. He showed the golf world what the future held. In the second 18 holes of the day at Pumpkin Ridge Golf Course, Woods roared back against Scott, making the putts that had been missing in the morning, showing the tenacity that had already, at age 18, given him the reputation as a lethal competitor.
Woods never held the lead in the 1996 U.S. Amateur until the final hole, when he tapped in a two-foot par putt on the second hole of the playoff, the 38th hole of the day, to clinch the championship. He had done what nobody had done before him, something none of the great amateur champions of golf's early days could do.
Less than a month later, Woods was no longer an amateur. He was playing on the PGA tour, beginning his meteoric rise up the golf rankings. He won two events in his first three months on tour, and he won the Masters by 12 shots in his first Major as a professional. But that August in Oregon, he was just a college kid at Stanford who needed 38 holes to beat somebody named Steve Scott.
So who is Steve Scott? He's the guy who, after playing 38 of the best holes of golf of his life, could only look at Tiger Woods and say "I don't know how I stayed with you that long."
No, we're not playing Jeopardy. We're simply posing a question. Who is Steve Scott? He's the golfer who came close to dethroning Tiger Woods at the U.S. Amateur Championship, the man who came ever so close to stopping Woods' run at a third straight Amateur championship.
Through 18 holes on August 25, 1996, Scott was five holes up on Woods. Woods was scuffling, nothing was going right for him. It seemed like his run at history was going to get derailed. He would fail where so many great golfers before him had, coming short in his quest to be the first man to win three straight Amateur titles.
But then he became Tiger Woods, the fearsome golfer. He showed the golf world what the future held. In the second 18 holes of the day at Pumpkin Ridge Golf Course, Woods roared back against Scott, making the putts that had been missing in the morning, showing the tenacity that had already, at age 18, given him the reputation as a lethal competitor.
Woods never held the lead in the 1996 U.S. Amateur until the final hole, when he tapped in a two-foot par putt on the second hole of the playoff, the 38th hole of the day, to clinch the championship. He had done what nobody had done before him, something none of the great amateur champions of golf's early days could do.
Less than a month later, Woods was no longer an amateur. He was playing on the PGA tour, beginning his meteoric rise up the golf rankings. He won two events in his first three months on tour, and he won the Masters by 12 shots in his first Major as a professional. But that August in Oregon, he was just a college kid at Stanford who needed 38 holes to beat somebody named Steve Scott.
So who is Steve Scott? He's the guy who, after playing 38 of the best holes of golf of his life, could only look at Tiger Woods and say "I don't know how I stayed with you that long."
Friday, August 20, 2010
August 20, 2000: The Battle at Valhalla
LOUISVILLE, Ky. - Tiger Woods was exactly where everybody expected him to be. After his record-shattering performances earlier that summer at the U.S. and British opens, nobody was surprised to see his name topping the leaderboard of that year's PGA championship with another record-setting score, this time a score of 18 under par. But there was something else up on the leaderboard, something that people didn't expect to see.
Sharing the line with Woods on the leaderboard was the entry "May, -18."
Confusion. Was that a reference to May 18? What happened then? No, it wasn't the month. It was a player. Somebody had tied Woods.
Very few people had heard of Bob May before the 2000 PGA Championship. He had only played in three majors before going to Valhalla that weekend and had won only one event in his career. And yet, there he was at the end of the round on Sunday, standing eye-to-eye with the greatest golfer in the world, the man who was playing better that summer than anybody had ever played before.
And it wasn't just that May was tied with Woods, it was how he got there, making up six shots on Woods over the final three rounds. The playoff, expanded to three holes for the first time that year, was a true David-vs.-Goliath matchup in golf.
While May's story was impressive, so was Tiger's. Challenged in a major championship for the first time, Woods birdied 17 and 18 on Sunday to force the playoff with the surprising May, then birdied the first playoff hole to take charge of the tournament. His putt on the first playoff hole featured one of his most famous moments on the course, as he jogged after the ball as it rolled toward the hole and emphatically pointed towards the cup as it was falling.
The one-shot advantage Woods gained with a birdie on the first playoff hole was all he needed, and he became the first man since 1937 to defend his title in the PGA championship. He also became only the second player to win three professional majors in the same year, and the next April, he would win the Masters to become the first man to hold all four major championships at the same time.
For Bob May, the 2000 PGA was his first and only moment in the golf spotlight. He played in all four majors in 2001 but was nowhere near contention, and he hasn't played in a major since. A back injury further curtailed his career, and he has since lost his Tour card. Now, May plays mostly on the second-tier Nationwide Tour, a humble place for the man who once stood face-to-face with the best in the world and didn't flinch.
Sharing the line with Woods on the leaderboard was the entry "May, -18."
Confusion. Was that a reference to May 18? What happened then? No, it wasn't the month. It was a player. Somebody had tied Woods.
Very few people had heard of Bob May before the 2000 PGA Championship. He had only played in three majors before going to Valhalla that weekend and had won only one event in his career. And yet, there he was at the end of the round on Sunday, standing eye-to-eye with the greatest golfer in the world, the man who was playing better that summer than anybody had ever played before.
And it wasn't just that May was tied with Woods, it was how he got there, making up six shots on Woods over the final three rounds. The playoff, expanded to three holes for the first time that year, was a true David-vs.-Goliath matchup in golf.
While May's story was impressive, so was Tiger's. Challenged in a major championship for the first time, Woods birdied 17 and 18 on Sunday to force the playoff with the surprising May, then birdied the first playoff hole to take charge of the tournament. His putt on the first playoff hole featured one of his most famous moments on the course, as he jogged after the ball as it rolled toward the hole and emphatically pointed towards the cup as it was falling.
The one-shot advantage Woods gained with a birdie on the first playoff hole was all he needed, and he became the first man since 1937 to defend his title in the PGA championship. He also became only the second player to win three professional majors in the same year, and the next April, he would win the Masters to become the first man to hold all four major championships at the same time.
For Bob May, the 2000 PGA was his first and only moment in the golf spotlight. He played in all four majors in 2001 but was nowhere near contention, and he hasn't played in a major since. A back injury further curtailed his career, and he has since lost his Tour card. Now, May plays mostly on the second-tier Nationwide Tour, a humble place for the man who once stood face-to-face with the best in the world and didn't flinch.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
July 15, 1923: A first for the amateur
INWOOD, N.Y. - Bobby Jones had plenty of reason to be upset at the 1923 U.S. Open. Entering the final round with a three-shot lead, Jones had given away the lead with a bogey, bogey, double-bogey finish, then watched as Bobby Cruickshank birdied the 18th to force a playoff.
Despite being a lifelong amateur, Jones still held high standards for himself, and he was thoroughly disappointed in the way way he finished. "I didn't finish like a champion," he said, "I finished like a yellow dog." Well, then.
Playing an 18-hold playoff the next day, July 15, Jones and Cruickshank were tied after 17 holes, when Jones hit his drive into the rough. With 200 yards between him and the flag, Jones calmly pulled out his 2-iron and hit it on the green within 8 feet of the cup, clinching his first major championship.
The win at Inwood Country Club was the first of seven Major championships for Jones, who was an amateur in the true sense of the word. A lawyer by trade, Jones never made a cent playing golf, competing only in his spare time. Still, he managed to become one of the most famous names in golf. Aside from his seven professional majors, Jones also won six amateur championships, including an amazing 1930 year when he won the professional U.S. Open and British Open and the amateur titles in both nations, winning the single-year Grand Slam.
But it's after golf where Jones made an even bigger name for himself. He gave up his amateur status by holding golf lessons in Hollywood and appearing in instructional videos, then made a fortune designing golf courses. His most famous creation is Augusta National, home of the Masters and one of the most beloved golf courses in the world. As chairman of the course, he founded the Masters and took great care to make it the renowned tournament it has become.
With all his success, his single most famous golf shot remains the 2-iron from 200 yards he used to clinch his first major title.
Despite being a lifelong amateur, Jones still held high standards for himself, and he was thoroughly disappointed in the way way he finished. "I didn't finish like a champion," he said, "I finished like a yellow dog." Well, then.
Playing an 18-hold playoff the next day, July 15, Jones and Cruickshank were tied after 17 holes, when Jones hit his drive into the rough. With 200 yards between him and the flag, Jones calmly pulled out his 2-iron and hit it on the green within 8 feet of the cup, clinching his first major championship.
The win at Inwood Country Club was the first of seven Major championships for Jones, who was an amateur in the true sense of the word. A lawyer by trade, Jones never made a cent playing golf, competing only in his spare time. Still, he managed to become one of the most famous names in golf. Aside from his seven professional majors, Jones also won six amateur championships, including an amazing 1930 year when he won the professional U.S. Open and British Open and the amateur titles in both nations, winning the single-year Grand Slam.
But it's after golf where Jones made an even bigger name for himself. He gave up his amateur status by holding golf lessons in Hollywood and appearing in instructional videos, then made a fortune designing golf courses. His most famous creation is Augusta National, home of the Masters and one of the most beloved golf courses in the world. As chairman of the course, he founded the Masters and took great care to make it the renowned tournament it has become.
With all his success, his single most famous golf shot remains the 2-iron from 200 yards he used to clinch his first major title.
Friday, July 9, 2010
July 9, 1977: The Duel in the Sun
SOUTH AYRSHIRE, Scotland - As Tom Watson and Jack Nicklaus stood on the 16th tee in the final round of the 1977 British Open, Watson smiled at Nicklaus. Watson, the redheaded up-and-coming star, the Masters champion in 1977, was tied with Nicklaus, the Golden Bear, the established superstar, with two holes left. They were paired together for the third round and had entered that round one shot off the lead. Matching 65s vaulted them into the lead, and here they stood, two holes from the end of the tournament, still tied. So Watson smiled and Nicklaus and said "This is what it's all about, isn't it?" Nicklaus smiled back and said "You bet it is."
You bet.
It is said that greatness inspires greatness, that the best athletes bring out the best of each other. It's possible that either Watson or Nicklaus could have shot a 65 again without being pushed by the other. But they had each other, and they rose to the occasion. And on a sunny day on the western coast of Scotland, they played one of the most legendary final rounds of golf ever seen.
They had matched each other shot-for-shot in the first three rounds, posting identical scorelines of 68-70-65. They were two chess grandmasters, one waiting for the other to blink. And after 16 holes of the final round, after 70 holes of matching each other shot-for-shot, Nicklaus finally blinked. He missed a makeable birdie putt on the 17th, and when Watson made his birdie putt, somebody finally had the upper hand. One shot up, one hole to play.
Watson extended his advantage on the 18th, driving into the fairway while Nicklaus found the rough. It seemed over when Watson's approach shot landed two feet from the pin, while Nicklaus ended up 40 feet away. But Nicklaus showed the resolve of a champion, showing why he had become known as the best golfer of all time, sinking the 40-foot birdie putt to give him a momentary share of the lead. Suddenly, Watson's two-footer to win the tournament didn't seem so easy. Still, though, Watson sank it, finishing up his second straight 65 to win the Open by one shot.
The Duel in the Sun, as the final round has come to be known, has become legendary in British Open lore. Nicklaus and Watson were at the top of their games, and nobody in the world had a chance against them that week. Nicklaus' score would have been a British Open record by seven shots, except that he didn't win the tournament. In the past, most opponents would have been intimidated by Nicklaus' performance in the last two rounds, would have eventually succumbed to the pressure of matching him shot-for-shot. Not Watson. And when Watson's final putt dropped, and he had his first British Open title, everybody praised him and announced expectations that he'd be golf's Next Big Thing.
In the quiet of the locker room after the round, Nicklaus had a much more sobering account. Shaking his head, he said quietly, "I just couldn't shake him."
HONORABLE MENTION
July 9, 2002: MILWAUKEE - If there will be a lasting image of Bud Selig's tenure as baseball commissioner, it might be that shrug after the 11th inning of the All Star Game in Milwaukee. Because that's what most people remember about that game. Some probably remember Torii Hunter robbing Barry Bonds of a home run in the first inning, followed by Bonds playfully lifting Hunter over his shoulder with almost frightening ease. But few remember the National League taking a 7-2 lead in the sixth, only to see the American League storm back to tie the game. Then came extra innings. Then the meeting between the managers and Selig. Then Selig's Shrug. It wasn't Selig's fault that the managers had run out of pitchers and that nobody was available to pitch the 12th inning and beyond. But it was Selig's fault that he couldn't come up with a solution, that all he could think of doing was shrugging his shoulders and saying "Then I guess it's a tie."
You bet.
It is said that greatness inspires greatness, that the best athletes bring out the best of each other. It's possible that either Watson or Nicklaus could have shot a 65 again without being pushed by the other. But they had each other, and they rose to the occasion. And on a sunny day on the western coast of Scotland, they played one of the most legendary final rounds of golf ever seen.
They had matched each other shot-for-shot in the first three rounds, posting identical scorelines of 68-70-65. They were two chess grandmasters, one waiting for the other to blink. And after 16 holes of the final round, after 70 holes of matching each other shot-for-shot, Nicklaus finally blinked. He missed a makeable birdie putt on the 17th, and when Watson made his birdie putt, somebody finally had the upper hand. One shot up, one hole to play.
Watson extended his advantage on the 18th, driving into the fairway while Nicklaus found the rough. It seemed over when Watson's approach shot landed two feet from the pin, while Nicklaus ended up 40 feet away. But Nicklaus showed the resolve of a champion, showing why he had become known as the best golfer of all time, sinking the 40-foot birdie putt to give him a momentary share of the lead. Suddenly, Watson's two-footer to win the tournament didn't seem so easy. Still, though, Watson sank it, finishing up his second straight 65 to win the Open by one shot.
The Duel in the Sun, as the final round has come to be known, has become legendary in British Open lore. Nicklaus and Watson were at the top of their games, and nobody in the world had a chance against them that week. Nicklaus' score would have been a British Open record by seven shots, except that he didn't win the tournament. In the past, most opponents would have been intimidated by Nicklaus' performance in the last two rounds, would have eventually succumbed to the pressure of matching him shot-for-shot. Not Watson. And when Watson's final putt dropped, and he had his first British Open title, everybody praised him and announced expectations that he'd be golf's Next Big Thing.
In the quiet of the locker room after the round, Nicklaus had a much more sobering account. Shaking his head, he said quietly, "I just couldn't shake him."
HONORABLE MENTION
July 9, 2002: MILWAUKEE - If there will be a lasting image of Bud Selig's tenure as baseball commissioner, it might be that shrug after the 11th inning of the All Star Game in Milwaukee. Because that's what most people remember about that game. Some probably remember Torii Hunter robbing Barry Bonds of a home run in the first inning, followed by Bonds playfully lifting Hunter over his shoulder with almost frightening ease. But few remember the National League taking a 7-2 lead in the sixth, only to see the American League storm back to tie the game. Then came extra innings. Then the meeting between the managers and Selig. Then Selig's Shrug. It wasn't Selig's fault that the managers had run out of pitchers and that nobody was available to pitch the 12th inning and beyond. But it was Selig's fault that he couldn't come up with a solution, that all he could think of doing was shrugging his shoulders and saying "Then I guess it's a tie."
Saturday, July 3, 2010
July 3, 1954: The Other Babe
PEABODY, Mass. - Babe Didrikson Zaharias was one of "those" athletes, the kind that could play any sport at any time and be immediately good at it. Those kinds of pure natural athletes often inspire both jealousy and awe, and when they enter a competition, people often think it's over before it begins.
Known first as Babe Didrikson, then as Babe Zaharias after she got married, she got her first job as a secretary for an insurance company in Dallas. In reality, though, she was hired so she could compete on the company basketball team, leading them to the AAU national championship.
Zaharias first gained national prominence at the 1932 AAU track and field championships, where she won six of the ten events. She was so dominant that she won the team championship despite being the only member of her team. She continued that success at the 1932 Olympics, winning three track and field medals in Los Angeles.
After the Olympics, she made money playing on travelling baseball and basketball teams, also dabbling in billiards. In 1935, she started playing golf for the first time, and by the 1940s had become America's first female golf celebrity.
She won 41 professional tournaments in her golf career, including 10 majors. But it was her last major win, at the U.S. Open in 1954, that might be her most impressive athletic achievement. The president of the LPGA at the time, Zaharias entered the Open despite being only a month removed from colon cancer surgery. Despite being physically weakened by the cancer and chemotherapy, Zaharias dominated the field. Her final-round 75 on July 3 was her low round of the tournament, and she won by 12 shots, her largest margin of victory in a major.
Zaharias won three more tournaments in her career before finally succumbing to cancer in 1956. When she died, America had lost its first true female athletic superstar. She is still mentioned as among the best female athletes of all time, despite playing in a time when women were often discouraged from competing, if not flat-out banned. Had she competed in the modern era, with women being encouraged to compete without the negative stigma that Zaharias had to deal with, she might have become even more of a celebrity.
As it stands, her legacy remains impeccable. She'll always be remembered as an Olympic gold medalist, as a founding member of the LPGA, and as the type of athlete who could beat anybody in anything at any time.
Known first as Babe Didrikson, then as Babe Zaharias after she got married, she got her first job as a secretary for an insurance company in Dallas. In reality, though, she was hired so she could compete on the company basketball team, leading them to the AAU national championship.
Zaharias first gained national prominence at the 1932 AAU track and field championships, where she won six of the ten events. She was so dominant that she won the team championship despite being the only member of her team. She continued that success at the 1932 Olympics, winning three track and field medals in Los Angeles.
After the Olympics, she made money playing on travelling baseball and basketball teams, also dabbling in billiards. In 1935, she started playing golf for the first time, and by the 1940s had become America's first female golf celebrity.
She won 41 professional tournaments in her golf career, including 10 majors. But it was her last major win, at the U.S. Open in 1954, that might be her most impressive athletic achievement. The president of the LPGA at the time, Zaharias entered the Open despite being only a month removed from colon cancer surgery. Despite being physically weakened by the cancer and chemotherapy, Zaharias dominated the field. Her final-round 75 on July 3 was her low round of the tournament, and she won by 12 shots, her largest margin of victory in a major.
Zaharias won three more tournaments in her career before finally succumbing to cancer in 1956. When she died, America had lost its first true female athletic superstar. She is still mentioned as among the best female athletes of all time, despite playing in a time when women were often discouraged from competing, if not flat-out banned. Had she competed in the modern era, with women being encouraged to compete without the negative stigma that Zaharias had to deal with, she might have become even more of a celebrity.
As it stands, her legacy remains impeccable. She'll always be remembered as an Olympic gold medalist, as a founding member of the LPGA, and as the type of athlete who could beat anybody in anything at any time.
Friday, June 18, 2010
June 18, 2000: 12 under
PEBBLE BEACH, Calif. - The wind was howling, the rain coming down hard. The ball was in the deep rough, more than 200 yards from the hole. Between the ball and the hole was a large cypress tree - oh, and the Pacific Ocean. Seems like a perfect time for the sensible golfer to lay up, take a par, and move on.
Not Tiger Woods. Nothing he did this week was sensible or ordinary. And when his approach shot - the one out of the rough, over a tree and the ocean, fighting the wind and the rain - landed within 15 feet of the hole, everybody else should have taken it as a sign that the tournament was over.
Most of the scores posted during the 2000 U.S. Open reflected the weather's impact. Pebble Beach is a tough course in perfect conditions, but the rain and the wind were howling in 2000. A score of 3 over was good enough for second place. But then there was Woods' score, a score that stood out so impressively and improbably that it had to be a misprint, a score that made it look like he was playing a different course than everybody else.
12 under.
Woods had wowed golf fans before. His performance at the 1997 Masters was jaw-dropping in its brilliance. But he had only one major since, and the whispers started about whether he would live up to the lofty expectations placed on his shoulders at such a young age.
But then 12 under happened, and everybody stopped doubting.
On its own, 12 under doesn't seem that impressive - after all, he had gone 18 under in winning the Masters three years before, and players routinely break 12 under in non-Majors. But he became the first player in the 106-year history of the U.S. Open to hit double-digits under par for the tournament, and his 15(!)-shot victory set the standard for all Major championships.
Woods started strong, getting a break by playing his first round in calm conditions on Thursday morning. His opening 65 was the low round of the tournament, but it left him only 1 shot clear entering the second round.
The wind and the rain picked up in round 2, and the scores plummeted. While players were taking turns falling down the leader board, Woods was improbably climbing, posting a 2-under for the day, including his impossible approach shot on 6, to push his lead at the halfway mark to 6 shots.
In the U.S. Open, the 36-hole cut line is usually set at the top 60 players and ties, plus anybody within 10 shots of the leader. In 2000, only 63 made the cut, the lowest number ever. That's because only 17 players were within 10 shots of Woods. It was only Saturday, but the tournament was already over.
Woods shot an even-par 71 in the third round, but still extended his lead to 10, as the weather continued to wreak havoc on the field. The weather clamed down for the final round on Sunday, but that only gave Woods an opportunity for more birdies. His 67 was the low round of the day, and punctuated a remarkable weekend.
The U.S. Open was the start of a three-month stretch where Woods was untouchable. He set scoring records in the British Open and the PGA Championship later that summer, firmly stamping his place at the top of the golf world. But for all his success that summer, and in the future, he likely was never better than he was in the four days of the U.S. Open. It's possible nobody ever played as well as Woods did that June.
(The aforementioned iron shot - over the tree, et al - is at 1:12 of this highlight package)
Not Tiger Woods. Nothing he did this week was sensible or ordinary. And when his approach shot - the one out of the rough, over a tree and the ocean, fighting the wind and the rain - landed within 15 feet of the hole, everybody else should have taken it as a sign that the tournament was over.
Most of the scores posted during the 2000 U.S. Open reflected the weather's impact. Pebble Beach is a tough course in perfect conditions, but the rain and the wind were howling in 2000. A score of 3 over was good enough for second place. But then there was Woods' score, a score that stood out so impressively and improbably that it had to be a misprint, a score that made it look like he was playing a different course than everybody else.
12 under.
Woods had wowed golf fans before. His performance at the 1997 Masters was jaw-dropping in its brilliance. But he had only one major since, and the whispers started about whether he would live up to the lofty expectations placed on his shoulders at such a young age.
But then 12 under happened, and everybody stopped doubting.
On its own, 12 under doesn't seem that impressive - after all, he had gone 18 under in winning the Masters three years before, and players routinely break 12 under in non-Majors. But he became the first player in the 106-year history of the U.S. Open to hit double-digits under par for the tournament, and his 15(!)-shot victory set the standard for all Major championships.
Woods started strong, getting a break by playing his first round in calm conditions on Thursday morning. His opening 65 was the low round of the tournament, but it left him only 1 shot clear entering the second round.
The wind and the rain picked up in round 2, and the scores plummeted. While players were taking turns falling down the leader board, Woods was improbably climbing, posting a 2-under for the day, including his impossible approach shot on 6, to push his lead at the halfway mark to 6 shots.
In the U.S. Open, the 36-hole cut line is usually set at the top 60 players and ties, plus anybody within 10 shots of the leader. In 2000, only 63 made the cut, the lowest number ever. That's because only 17 players were within 10 shots of Woods. It was only Saturday, but the tournament was already over.
Woods shot an even-par 71 in the third round, but still extended his lead to 10, as the weather continued to wreak havoc on the field. The weather clamed down for the final round on Sunday, but that only gave Woods an opportunity for more birdies. His 67 was the low round of the day, and punctuated a remarkable weekend.
The U.S. Open was the start of a three-month stretch where Woods was untouchable. He set scoring records in the British Open and the PGA Championship later that summer, firmly stamping his place at the top of the golf world. But for all his success that summer, and in the future, he likely was never better than he was in the four days of the U.S. Open. It's possible nobody ever played as well as Woods did that June.
(The aforementioned iron shot - over the tree, et al - is at 1:12 of this highlight package)
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
June 16, 2008: Rocco pulls a Rocky
SAN DIEGO - It was supposed to be the feel-good story of golf. The journeyman underachiever with back problems, he of the 5 career victories, going against the greatest player of his, or any, generation. Even his name, Rocco, was just a couple steps away from that of America's most famous fictional underdog, Rocky.
Indeed, when Rocco Mediate teed off for the playoff round of the U.S. Open on June 16, 2008, he likely had many Americans pulling for him. After all, Tiger Woods had played this game before. In many of his 13 Major victories, he had been the favorite, both sentimentally among fans and statistically among oddsmakers. Sports fans tend to love dominating performances, even if they won't admit it, but they also love the underdog. So Mediate was easily the fan favorite in this playoff.
Along with the fan support for an emotional boost, Mediate also had, for perhaps the only time in his career, the physical advantage. Woods had undergone arthroscopic knee surgery that April, and as he cringed and grimaced his way through the four rounds, it was apparent to everybody watching that he hadn't completely healed from that surgery and he was playing at much less than 100 percent. After the tournament, Woods revealed that in his rehab from the surgery, he had suffered a double stress fracture in his leg. Everybody knew he was hurt, but nobody knew it was that bad.
Still, that didn't prevent Woods from sinking one of the biggest putts of his career that Sunday. With Mediate holding a one-shot lead in the clubhouse, Woods and Lee Westwood found themselves with medium-length birdie putts on the 18th hole to force a playoff. Westwood missed his 15-footer, but Woods' 12-footer snaked in, going halfway around the lip of the hole before dropping.
The Monday playoff was a battle of attrition between two men who knew about perseverance. Mediate hadn't won a tournament of any kind since 2002, and had missed upward of five years in his career because of back problems. For Woods, the perserverance was more in the present, as he was playing his fifth round of golf in as many days on a leg he shouldn't have even been walking on.
Halfway through the playoff, things seemed to be going the way everybody expected, with Woods taking a three-shot lead. But Mediate stayed patient, kept believing, and took a one-shot lead on the 15th hole. There the score remained until the 18th green, when Woods once again found himself with a medium-length birdie putt needed to force a tie. Once again, the indomitable Woods sank the putt, forcing a sudden death playoff hole. A par for Woods was enough to top the bogey of Mediate, and Woods had his 14th Major victory.
For Woods, it was the most difficult and unexpected victory of his tremendous career. Only after having surgery on his knee and missing the rest of the 2008 season did golf fans truly appreciate how difficult his accomplishment was, and only then did he start getting the credit he deserved.
For Mediate, the ending wasn't the one he had hoped for. The fairy tale didn't have the storybook ending. But for people who wanted to compare Rocco to Rocky, it shouldn't have been a surprise. After all, in the movie, Rocky stands up to the champ, doesn't flinch, and becomes America's hero. And he loses.
Indeed, when Rocco Mediate teed off for the playoff round of the U.S. Open on June 16, 2008, he likely had many Americans pulling for him. After all, Tiger Woods had played this game before. In many of his 13 Major victories, he had been the favorite, both sentimentally among fans and statistically among oddsmakers. Sports fans tend to love dominating performances, even if they won't admit it, but they also love the underdog. So Mediate was easily the fan favorite in this playoff.
Along with the fan support for an emotional boost, Mediate also had, for perhaps the only time in his career, the physical advantage. Woods had undergone arthroscopic knee surgery that April, and as he cringed and grimaced his way through the four rounds, it was apparent to everybody watching that he hadn't completely healed from that surgery and he was playing at much less than 100 percent. After the tournament, Woods revealed that in his rehab from the surgery, he had suffered a double stress fracture in his leg. Everybody knew he was hurt, but nobody knew it was that bad.
Still, that didn't prevent Woods from sinking one of the biggest putts of his career that Sunday. With Mediate holding a one-shot lead in the clubhouse, Woods and Lee Westwood found themselves with medium-length birdie putts on the 18th hole to force a playoff. Westwood missed his 15-footer, but Woods' 12-footer snaked in, going halfway around the lip of the hole before dropping.
The Monday playoff was a battle of attrition between two men who knew about perseverance. Mediate hadn't won a tournament of any kind since 2002, and had missed upward of five years in his career because of back problems. For Woods, the perserverance was more in the present, as he was playing his fifth round of golf in as many days on a leg he shouldn't have even been walking on.
Halfway through the playoff, things seemed to be going the way everybody expected, with Woods taking a three-shot lead. But Mediate stayed patient, kept believing, and took a one-shot lead on the 15th hole. There the score remained until the 18th green, when Woods once again found himself with a medium-length birdie putt needed to force a tie. Once again, the indomitable Woods sank the putt, forcing a sudden death playoff hole. A par for Woods was enough to top the bogey of Mediate, and Woods had his 14th Major victory.
For Woods, it was the most difficult and unexpected victory of his tremendous career. Only after having surgery on his knee and missing the rest of the 2008 season did golf fans truly appreciate how difficult his accomplishment was, and only then did he start getting the credit he deserved.
For Mediate, the ending wasn't the one he had hoped for. The fairy tale didn't have the storybook ending. But for people who wanted to compare Rocco to Rocky, it shouldn't have been a surprise. After all, in the movie, Rocky stands up to the champ, doesn't flinch, and becomes America's hero. And he loses.
Friday, June 11, 2010
June 11, 1950: Comeback complete
ARDMORE, Pa. - Ben Hogan should have been dead.
Sure, the car accident that happened in February 1949 was bad enough - after hitting a Greyhound bus head-on, Hogan had a broken collarbone, pelvis, and ankle, plus had a crushed rib and developed blod clots. That's pretty severe. But he should have been dead, and if he wouldn't have thrown himself in front of his wife to protect her, the steering column would gone through him. Instead, it went through the driver's seat, and Hogan was sent to the hospital.
Doctors told him he'd never walk again, that he was lucky to be alive, but that wasn't acceptible to Hogan. While recovering in the hospital, he took small steps and practiced his golf swing, determined to get back on the course. He left the hospital after 49 days, but he still had a long way to go to be fully recovered.
One year later, he was on the course. The 1950 U.S. Open wasn't his first tournament back, but
it was the tournament that became his lasting legacy. At Merion Golf Club in Pennsylvania, and playing with heavily bandage legs, Hogan found himself in contention entering the final day, a brutal 36-hole marathon that would certainly strain his still-damaged body.
With the tournament seemingly his to win, he started to fade, bogeying the 15th and 17th holes of his second round that day. On the 18th, needing a par to join a playoff, Hogan hit his most famous shot as a golfer, a 1-iron from 200 yards away, into a wind, that landed on the green within easy range for a par. The picture at left, one of the most famous in golf history, shows Hogan following through on his legendary 1-iron shot.
But Hogan's work wasn't done. He still had the playoff the next day, June 11. But after sufficient rest, his legs could handle 18 holes - it probably seemed like nothing compared to the 36 from the day before - and Hogan shot a 69 to win by four shots.
Hogan was already considered one of the best golfers in the world before his car accident. His win in the 1950 U.S. Open served notice that it would take more than a bus to slow him down.
HONORABLE MENTION
June 11, 1997: SALT LAKE CITY, Utah - There have been many images of Michael Jordan in triumph on a basketball court, but none have looked like this: Jordan slumped over in the arms of teammate Scottie Pippen, being dragged to the bench, completely out of energy. He had woken up the day before with the flu, and, still visibly weak, gutted out Game 5 of the finals anyway. Unable to concentrate, and often on the brink of collapse, Jordan still played 44 of a possible 48 minutes, scoring 38 points, including a game-clinching 3-pointer with less than a minute to play. The Bulls won the title in Game 6, a championship that might not have been possible if it wasn't for Jordan's famouse Flu Game.
Sure, the car accident that happened in February 1949 was bad enough - after hitting a Greyhound bus head-on, Hogan had a broken collarbone, pelvis, and ankle, plus had a crushed rib and developed blod clots. That's pretty severe. But he should have been dead, and if he wouldn't have thrown himself in front of his wife to protect her, the steering column would gone through him. Instead, it went through the driver's seat, and Hogan was sent to the hospital.
Doctors told him he'd never walk again, that he was lucky to be alive, but that wasn't acceptible to Hogan. While recovering in the hospital, he took small steps and practiced his golf swing, determined to get back on the course. He left the hospital after 49 days, but he still had a long way to go to be fully recovered.
One year later, he was on the course. The 1950 U.S. Open wasn't his first tournament back, but
it was the tournament that became his lasting legacy. At Merion Golf Club in Pennsylvania, and playing with heavily bandage legs, Hogan found himself in contention entering the final day, a brutal 36-hole marathon that would certainly strain his still-damaged body.With the tournament seemingly his to win, he started to fade, bogeying the 15th and 17th holes of his second round that day. On the 18th, needing a par to join a playoff, Hogan hit his most famous shot as a golfer, a 1-iron from 200 yards away, into a wind, that landed on the green within easy range for a par. The picture at left, one of the most famous in golf history, shows Hogan following through on his legendary 1-iron shot.
But Hogan's work wasn't done. He still had the playoff the next day, June 11. But after sufficient rest, his legs could handle 18 holes - it probably seemed like nothing compared to the 36 from the day before - and Hogan shot a 69 to win by four shots.
Hogan was already considered one of the best golfers in the world before his car accident. His win in the 1950 U.S. Open served notice that it would take more than a bus to slow him down.
HONORABLE MENTION
June 11, 1997: SALT LAKE CITY, Utah - There have been many images of Michael Jordan in triumph on a basketball court, but none have looked like this: Jordan slumped over in the arms of teammate Scottie Pippen, being dragged to the bench, completely out of energy. He had woken up the day before with the flu, and, still visibly weak, gutted out Game 5 of the finals anyway. Unable to concentrate, and often on the brink of collapse, Jordan still played 44 of a possible 48 minutes, scoring 38 points, including a game-clinching 3-pointer with less than a minute to play. The Bulls won the title in Game 6, a championship that might not have been possible if it wasn't for Jordan's famouse Flu Game.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
April 13, 1997: Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
AUGUSTA, Ga. - Perhaps no professional golfer started his career with loftier expectations than Tiger Woods. Many of those expectations were self-imposed, by both Tiger himself and his father. Traditional golf fans scoffed when Tiger said his goal was to set the record for career majors won, and they just shook their heads when Earl Woods said Tiger would be the most important athlete in the world.
Then Tiger played his first career major, and those claims suddenly didn't seem so outlandish.
Nobody had any inkling of what was coming that week when Woods shot a 40 on the front nine in round 1. But he found his game and stormed to a six-under 30 on the back nine, ending the first round three shots behind the leader. And he never stopped charging.
A stunning 66 on Friday gave Woods the lead in a major for the first time. A bogey-free 65 on Saturday gave him a jaw-dropping nine-shot lead entering the final day. With a round still to play, Woods had completely buried the competition in a way never seen before.
Sunday's final round was nothing more than a coronation; the way he had been playing, nobody expected Woods to give back nine shots to the field. He didn't disappoint, further increasing his lead despite not playing all that sharply in the final round. His final numbers were staggering: a tournament-record score of -18 and a grand-slam record 12 shot margin of victory.
His dominance was so complete that all those predictions about Woods suddenly seemed reasonable. When Jack Nicklaus said Woods could end up winning 10 Masters, people seemed to think that was reasonable. When the TV ratings came back showing sky-high numbers despite Tiger's complete domination, Earl Woods' claims about Tiger changing the world didn't seem all that strange. And Tiger's stated goal of winning the most majors suddenly didn't seem lofty enough. He had completely changed the game, and golf has never been the same.
HONORABLE MENTION:
April 13, 1986: Augusta, Ga. - He was 46 years old, four shots behind the leader, and trailing seven players overall. Jack Nicklaus was no more than an afterthought entering the final round of the 1986 Masters. After shooting one-under on the front nine, he was pushed out of people's thoughts even more. But then he entered the back nine started. The shots started dropping. The roars got louder, echoing throughout the course. Though the leaders were several holes behind him, they knew what was going on. Jack was making a charge. When it was over, Nicklaus had shot a 30 on the back nine, a 65 overall, and had taken the lead at -9. The third-round leaders still had three holes to play, but everybody knew this one was already over. Twenty-four years after winning his first major, Nicklaus had won his 18th.
Then Tiger played his first career major, and those claims suddenly didn't seem so outlandish.
Nobody had any inkling of what was coming that week when Woods shot a 40 on the front nine in round 1. But he found his game and stormed to a six-under 30 on the back nine, ending the first round three shots behind the leader. And he never stopped charging.
A stunning 66 on Friday gave Woods the lead in a major for the first time. A bogey-free 65 on Saturday gave him a jaw-dropping nine-shot lead entering the final day. With a round still to play, Woods had completely buried the competition in a way never seen before.
Sunday's final round was nothing more than a coronation; the way he had been playing, nobody expected Woods to give back nine shots to the field. He didn't disappoint, further increasing his lead despite not playing all that sharply in the final round. His final numbers were staggering: a tournament-record score of -18 and a grand-slam record 12 shot margin of victory.
His dominance was so complete that all those predictions about Woods suddenly seemed reasonable. When Jack Nicklaus said Woods could end up winning 10 Masters, people seemed to think that was reasonable. When the TV ratings came back showing sky-high numbers despite Tiger's complete domination, Earl Woods' claims about Tiger changing the world didn't seem all that strange. And Tiger's stated goal of winning the most majors suddenly didn't seem lofty enough. He had completely changed the game, and golf has never been the same.
HONORABLE MENTION:
April 13, 1986: Augusta, Ga. - He was 46 years old, four shots behind the leader, and trailing seven players overall. Jack Nicklaus was no more than an afterthought entering the final round of the 1986 Masters. After shooting one-under on the front nine, he was pushed out of people's thoughts even more. But then he entered the back nine started. The shots started dropping. The roars got louder, echoing throughout the course. Though the leaders were several holes behind him, they knew what was going on. Jack was making a charge. When it was over, Nicklaus had shot a 30 on the back nine, a 65 overall, and had taken the lead at -9. The third-round leaders still had three holes to play, but everybody knew this one was already over. Twenty-four years after winning his first major, Nicklaus had won his 18th.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
April 6, 1958: Ascension of the King
AUGUSTA, Georgia - Long before Tiger Woods was knocking down racial barriers on the golf course, Arnold Palmer was knocking down class-based stereotypes. For decades, golf was an activity for the upper class, and both the players and fans were cut from largely the same cloth.
That started to change when Palmer started to rise to prominence. Palmer came from a much more humble background, the son of a greenskeeper at a municipal course in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. While not certainly not poor, his middle-class upbringing was much different than most of the other professional golfers of his time, and it helped make hime one of the most popular golfers of his time.
Other things that helped Palmer's popularity were his good looks, outgoing personality, and his fear-nothing attitude on the golf course. A true risk-reward player, he thrilled audiences with his aggressive play, leading to many tense, come-from-behind victories.
Palmer's win at the 1958 Masters was not of the come-from-behind variety, but that doesn't mean it was without drama. On the par-3 12th, he was only one shot up on Ken Venturi when Palmer's tee shot ended up embedded deeply in mud. An argument with a rules official followed, after wich Palmer first played his original ball, struggling home for a 5, and then a provisional ball, which he chipped close for a 3. Palmer's point had been that the muddy conditions should have allowed him to lift the ball and place it in a clean patch without penalty. As the rules official was uncertain, Palmer played shots covering both scenarios, just in case.
As Palmer and Venturi teed off on the par-5 13th, neither player knew whether Palmer would get credit for a 3 or a 5 on the previous hole. Undaunted, Palmer drilled his second shot within 18 feet, making the putt for an eagle. Then the players learned that Palmer would, correctly, get credit for a 3 on the 12th, and that he now had a three-shot lead with five holes to play. He struggled a bit on the final five holes, but held on for a one-shot victory.
Though this victory was Palmer's first of seven in major championships, it's remembered for more than just that. It's the tournament where the famous term "Amen Corner" was used for the first time to describe holes 11, 12, and 13 at Augusta National; the term was coined by Sports Illustrated writer Herbert Warren Wind. Inspired by the drama of the 12th and 13th, and remembering numerous past tournaments that turned on those three holes, Wind came up with the term that's still used today.
For Palmer, the win was proof that he was a force to be reckoned with. His popularity continued to grow from there, spreading to both sides of the Atlantic. He got the nickname "The King," and the large crowds that followed him at tournaments became known as Arnie's Army. This all probably would have happened without his win in 1958, but every great career needs a starting point.
HONORABLE MENTION:
April 6, 1896: ATHENS - American James Connolly wins the triple jump competition at the first modern Olympic games, becoming the first Olympic medalist in more than 1,500 years.
That started to change when Palmer started to rise to prominence. Palmer came from a much more humble background, the son of a greenskeeper at a municipal course in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. While not certainly not poor, his middle-class upbringing was much different than most of the other professional golfers of his time, and it helped make hime one of the most popular golfers of his time.
Other things that helped Palmer's popularity were his good looks, outgoing personality, and his fear-nothing attitude on the golf course. A true risk-reward player, he thrilled audiences with his aggressive play, leading to many tense, come-from-behind victories.
Palmer's win at the 1958 Masters was not of the come-from-behind variety, but that doesn't mean it was without drama. On the par-3 12th, he was only one shot up on Ken Venturi when Palmer's tee shot ended up embedded deeply in mud. An argument with a rules official followed, after wich Palmer first played his original ball, struggling home for a 5, and then a provisional ball, which he chipped close for a 3. Palmer's point had been that the muddy conditions should have allowed him to lift the ball and place it in a clean patch without penalty. As the rules official was uncertain, Palmer played shots covering both scenarios, just in case.
As Palmer and Venturi teed off on the par-5 13th, neither player knew whether Palmer would get credit for a 3 or a 5 on the previous hole. Undaunted, Palmer drilled his second shot within 18 feet, making the putt for an eagle. Then the players learned that Palmer would, correctly, get credit for a 3 on the 12th, and that he now had a three-shot lead with five holes to play. He struggled a bit on the final five holes, but held on for a one-shot victory.
Though this victory was Palmer's first of seven in major championships, it's remembered for more than just that. It's the tournament where the famous term "Amen Corner" was used for the first time to describe holes 11, 12, and 13 at Augusta National; the term was coined by Sports Illustrated writer Herbert Warren Wind. Inspired by the drama of the 12th and 13th, and remembering numerous past tournaments that turned on those three holes, Wind came up with the term that's still used today.
For Palmer, the win was proof that he was a force to be reckoned with. His popularity continued to grow from there, spreading to both sides of the Atlantic. He got the nickname "The King," and the large crowds that followed him at tournaments became known as Arnie's Army. This all probably would have happened without his win in 1958, but every great career needs a starting point.
HONORABLE MENTION:
April 6, 1896: ATHENS - American James Connolly wins the triple jump competition at the first modern Olympic games, becoming the first Olympic medalist in more than 1,500 years.
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