(About the Series: Based upon my Conversation with guest Derek Meinecke, I’m going back in time to be in the stands at 10 sporting events. This week, it’s #5. You’re able to find links to the previous installments below.)
I “retired” from playing golf over a decade ago. I never exhibited the patience or time needed to move to become as proficient as I’d like. It was, as the old expression notes, “a good walk spoiled” for me.
Watching golf’s Majors, however, has always been enjoyable.
I’m fairly certain I was interested in The Masters April 10-13, 1986. My neighbor during freshman year at Eastern Michigan University’s Phelps Hall was a big golf fan and I have ever reason to believe that Joe Grezlik had the tournament on as we all were prepping for that month’s final exams (yeah, right;-).
That said, I cannot say with any degree of certainty if I was paying close attention to what occurred during the back nine on Sunday’s final.
It was, of course, the last great competitive charge on the PGA Tour by the man known as the Golden Bear, Jack Nicklaus. A World Golf Hall of Fame inductee in 1974, Nicklaus was six years removed from his most-recent Major championships (the 1980 U.S. Open and PGA Championship) and, at the age of 46, was considered by some of his contemporaries to be semi-retired. His previous Masters’ win was 11 years earlier for heaven’s sake.
And when he arrived at the ninth hole that Sunday afternoon, he was even par for the day and had seven players between him and the lead.
Then, there was a little magic in that old straw hat (sorry, the Frosty the Snowman song is currently earworming me), er, putter in his bag.
He birdied No. 9, then No. 10, and No. 11. A bogey at No. 12 threatened to derail him, but he rallied to birdie the Par 5 13th, parred No. 14, and then eagled No. 15 to move to 7-under par. He went on to birdie No. 16 and No. 17 before parring No. 18 and finished 9-under and then waited it out in the clubhouse where he witnessed Seve Ballesteros and Greg Norman both coming undone down the stretch.
As long as Nicklaus is doing the playing, I won’t worry about this walk being spoiled. The only thing that would make it better would be to have the occasional iconic TV call by Ben Wright and Verne Lundquist piping into my head while enjoying this lovely Sunday afternoon.
“Maybe … Yes sir!”
Verne Lundquist on the 17th hole at Augusta National, 1986
Previous Installments
- Number 10 – 1972 NLCS Game 5
- Number 9 – 1936 Berlin Summer Olympics
- Number 8 – 2007 One Hall of a Trip
- Number 7 – 1973 Secretariat’s Triple Crown Run
- Number 6 – 1980 Wimbledon Final Borg-McEnroe