Instead, Furyk would be paired with Leaney, who was called “the unknown Aussie” so frequently on NBC, it almost sounded as if his full name was “the unknown Aussie Stephen Leaney.”
Leaney laughed at that thought. “They weren’t wrong,” he said.
Leaney had almost fallen apart at the start of the back nine. He had hit his worst drive of the week at the 10th and that had led to a double-bogey six. Shaken, he bogeyed the 11th, and suddenly he had fallen back into the pack at five under par. But he steadied himself with birdies at the 15th and the 18th, and, with Singh’s poor finish, that left him alone in second place, three shots behind Furyk.
“After 10 and 11, I told myself to take it easy, that I was still in good shape,” he said. “I reminded myself that no one went through an entire U.S. Open without a tough patch, and I’d just had mine. The birdie at 15 really settled me down. After that I was fine.”
No one else was within five shots of the lead: Singh was tied with Price at five under. Byrd, Eduardo Romero, and Canadian Ian Leggatt were another shot back at four under, and Mark Calcavecchia, Mark O’Meara, and Billy Mayfair, all of whom had matched Furyk’s 67, were at three under.
Tom Watson, clearly drained by all the emotions of the week, shot 75 on Saturday, which dropped him back to two over par for the tournament. He and Edwards went into Sunday holding out hope that a good round would get Watson into the top 15 and give him an automatic spot in the 2004 Open.
Tiger Woods had also disappeared from the leaderboard. He had made one more late bogey coming home and was now 11 shots behind Furyk at one over par and completely out of contention. Perhaps the only person holding out faint hope for a Tiger rally was NBC’s Tommy Roy.
“When we got the tee times, I noticed that Tiger was going to be teeing off just as we came on the air,” he said. “I thought, ‘Maybe Sunday will be the day that someone finally shoots 62 at a U.S. Open, and if it’s Tiger…’ ”
Even if it was Tiger, Furyk would still have to shoot three over par just to create a tie, and, based on his first three rounds, that wasn’t likely. Of course in golf, as Roy could attest, nothing was impossible.
In a sense, Furyk’s 10-under-par score, which was a 54-hole record, just as the seven under he and Singh had shot for 36 holes had been, was a reflection of what the players had been saying about Olympia Fields not being a typical, punishing U.S Open course. But it was also a reflection of how well he had played, especially given that only one player was less than five shots behind, and only six were within seven shots of his lead.
Furyk was extremely happy with the way he had played, especially pleased with the birdie on 18 after the bogey on 17. And he was surprised by Singh’s finish. More than anything, though, he knew he had put himself into a position he had never been in before: a major championship was now his to lose.
“It was definitely a different feeling,” he said. “I’d been in contention in majors before, believed I had a chance to win, but now I was 18 holes away, and it really had become my golf tournament to lose. I was certainly happy to be in that position, but it also made me very uptight. I knew when I left the golf course Saturday that if I didn’t win the next day, it was probably going to haunt me for a good long while.”
Furyk’s family could sense the added pressure at dinner that night. “Jim’s always a little quieter than usual the last night of a major when he has a chance,” Tabitha Furyk remembered. “But he was even quieter than that. I think without saying it, we all knew what he was thinking: ‘If I don’t win now, then when?’ ”
Leaney was just as tense as Furyk but for different reasons. Like Furyk, he was in a place he had never been before: not only in contention at a major but in the final twosome. He was well aware of what it would mean to win, but he was almost as aware of what second place or even a high finish would mean: a spot on the PGA Tour, since a top-four finish would mean he had made enough money to earn exempt status for the rest of 2003. A second-place finish (worth $650,000) would also give him enough money to clinch a spot in the top 125 and, thus, fully exempt status in 2004.
That was a lot to think about. Which was exactly why he didn’t want to think about any of it.
“I tried very hard to rely on my experience of being in contention at other tournaments,” he said. “It’s silly to tell yourself it’s just another tournament, because you know it’s not, and you know when you get out there, it’s not going to feel like just another tournament. What I tried to do was tell myself to go out and play to win and not think about anything else.”
Leaney often sits down at night before an important round and writes out on paper things that can happen and how he will handle them when they do. On this Saturday night, knowing he wouldn’t be teeing off until three o’clock Chicago time, he sat up late trying to think through his round.
“I wrote down things like ‘first bogey’—how to deal with that. I wrote down what I’d try to tell myself if the other guys started to get close to me or caught me. There were some very good players not far behind me: Vijay, Pricey, Byrd, [Mike] Weir (who was two under). I didn’t want to look up and see them making a move and panic. I also wrote down what to do if I caught Jim and found myself really close to having a chance to win.
“I’ve always found if I write down all the things that can possibly happen in an important round and think about how to deal with them the night before, then when they happen I’m better prepared mentally to deal with what comes next.”
He smiled. “I had also found in the past that once I’d written things down and gone through it all mentally that I slept better. That didn’t happen this time. I barely slept at all.”
Exhaustion finally caught up with him in the middle of the night, and he slept—relatively late—which was a good thing given the late tee time. “Even so, I was jumpy and wanting to get to the golf course,” Leaney said. “I usually like to go out on the putting green about an hour and fifteen minutes before my tee time, hit a few putts, then go to the range.”
On this Sunday, he was greeted by a number of TV crews and some writers from Australia when he arrived. The good news about most of the first three days was that he had been completely under the radar. Watson and Edwards had been the story the first day; Furyk and Singh the second day and most of the third—with Woods an uncertain sidebar for everyone.
“It wasn’t until Vijay faded there a bit at the end on Saturday and people realized I was in the last group that anyone really wanted to talk to me,” he said. “Now, I had become at least part of the story, which didn’t bother me, although it was another reminder that this was a very big day in my life.”
He finished talking to the media, did a brief “unknown Aussie” interview with NBC’s Jimmy Roberts, and went into the locker room to get something light to eat. Soon after, he walked out to the putting green to begin his preround routine.
“I went onto the putting green, hit a few putts, and looked at my watch,” he said. “I still had an hour and forty-five before we teed it up. I said, ‘Hold on here, you need to slow down.’ So I went back inside and just sat in front of my locker for half an hour. There was no one in there. Everyone else was either playing or out warming up. I didn’t look at television or anything. I just sat there and tried to keep myself calm.”
Furyk was having at least as much trouble staying calm. He killed time in the morning playing with his eleven-month-old daughter Caleigh, watching a movie, and reading the paper, the way he normally did with a late tee time. But his father could see he was struggling.
“I don’t think I’d ever seen him so tight,” Mike Furyk said. “Usually, the first thing he says to me on Father’s Day is ‘Happy Father’s Day, Dad.’ He never said it to me that morning. I knew it was going to be an emotional day for him—leading the Open, his first Father’s Day as a father. There was just a lot going on. I could almost see him churning inside.”
Furyk was trying as hard as he could to keep himself together emotionally, not wantin
g anything to spill out before he went to play the last round of the U.S. Open. NBC likes to show the leaders as they walk from their cars to the locker room on the final day. As Furyk made his walk, Dan Hicks, the 18th-hole anchor for the network commented, “He looks relaxed.”
All of which proves that looks can be deceiving.
Furyk went into the locker room for a few minutes and then met his dad to walk to the range—just as they always did—to warm up. They were crossing the putting green when Jim stopped and pulled his father aside.
“I’d wanted to say ‘Happy Father’s Day’ to him all morning,” Jim said. “I just knew whenever I said it that I was going to break down. Part of it was certainly that it was my first one as a dad, but really it was more about all the years we had worked together, all the hours, all the effort we’d both put in trying to get to a moment like this—a moment that was still a long way off—but still right there within striking distance.
“I couldn’t say it at the house because I didn’t want a scene with everybody there. But in the back of my mind, I didn’t want to leave it unsaid before I played, because then it would be on my mind. I knew he’d understand if I waited, but I didn’t want to wait. So, when we got on the putting green and there really wasn’t anyone around at that moment, I just took him aside and said, ‘Happy Father’s Day, Dad.’ I’m not sure I got all four words out before I started to cry.”
As soon as Jim started to cry, Mike joined him, and the two men hugged. NBC, which has cameras everywhere during the Open, caught the hug and the emotional look in Jim’s eyes. As luck would have it, Leaney was just finishing his pre-warm-up putting session when he saw the two Furyks.
Leaney’s father had been on his mind all week—not because of Father’s Day, which is celebrated in September in Australia, but because his father was in the hospital having just had surgery to remove part of his stomach after cancer had been discovered there. The prognosis, Leaney had been told, was good, but nevertheless he had been concerned all week.
“I saw the two of them standing there, and I could tell they were having a moment,” he said. “Needless to say, it made me think about my dad. I knew he would be watching that morning [it would be 6 a.m. in Busselton when Furyk and Leaney began their round], and I knew if I played well it would make him feel a lot better. But seeing Jim and his dad also reminded me that this was a big day for Jim too, really for all of us who were on the leaderboard.”
Mike Furyk wanted to be certain that the emotions of the day didn’t overcome Jim before he got to the first tee. “Hey,” he finally said to his son, “let’s go out there and win a golf tournament”—purposefully not mentioning which golf tournament his son was trying to win.
“I wanted, as much as it was possible, to keep him in the frame of mind that he was trying to do something he’d already done,” he said. “He knew how to win golf tournaments; he’d done that seven times on tour before that day. I knew it was going to be hard for him to take the ‘it’s just another tournament’ approach, but I wanted to try to keep it on that level for as long as I possibly could.”
That wasn’t going to be very long. It was Father’s Day. It was U.S. Open Sunday. “If he’s not under par for the day after six holes,” Johnny Miller said soon after NBC came on the air, “he’s going to be very nervous.”
In fact, Furyk was already very nervous. His tee time was still more than an hour away. If Mickelson was the Best Player to Have Never Won a Major, Furyk was now the BPTHNWAM who would take a three-stroke lead into the final 18 holes of one.
10
Make Sure to Get the Trophy Engraved
WHEN NBC WON THE rights to the U.S. Open beginning in 1995, it committed to wall-to-wall weekend telecasts. ABC had changed golf coverage in 1982 when, for the first time, it televised all 18 holes of the final two rounds, beginning the telecast just as the final twosome reached the first tee. But NBC’s deal with the USGA for the Open took that concept several steps further, the weekend telecasts beginning long before the final group teed off. In fact, NBC went on the air at 1:30 p.m. eastern time, a full two and a half hours before Jim Furyk and Stephen Leaney were scheduled to tee off.
Normally a lot of the pre-leaders’ airtime was devoted to features and a fluffy interview with that year’s USGA president. Every Open Sunday on NBC included some kind of reminder that Johnny Miller, who was the heart and soul of their telecasts, had shot arguably the greatest round in Open history—a 63 on the final day at Oakmont in 1973 that had allowed him to come from seven shots behind to catch Arnold Palmer, among others, and win.
Since the final day at Olympia Fields was the thirtieth anniversary of the “Miracle at Oakmont,” NBC had prepared a lengthy feature as a tribute to Miller. It also used the memory of that day and that round to set up what they hoped would be another miraculous afternoon.
“This golf course can give up a 61, 62, 63, or 64,” Miller said at the start of the telecast. “It’s vulnerable, especially those first six holes.”
Then he added, “I think for Jim Furyk today, given the circumstances, even par is 72—which would tie the Open scoring record for four rounds at eight under par. If someone can go low, and he shoots that number, things might get very interesting.”
Of course, the person NBC wanted to see go low happened to be on the first tee at the very moment NBC came on the air—karma as far as Tommy Roy was concerned. Tiger Woods was tied for 26th place, 11 shots behind Furyk, as he and Dan Forsman arrived at the first tee for their 12:30 (central) tee time. The largest margin any player had overcome on the final day of a major had been 10 shots. It had taken perhaps the greatest final-hole meltdown in major championship history—Jean Van de Velde’s infamous triple-bogey 7 at Carnoustie in 1999—to allow Paul Lawrie into a playoff with Van de Velde and Justin Leonard, which Lawrie won, making him the answer to two trivia questions: who overcame the greatest last-day deficit in major championship history, and who is the least well-known British Open champion of the past fifty years?
Woods had kept his driver in his bag most of the first three days, not having a lot of confidence in it and hoping to hit fairways off the tee. Now, he hit driver on the first tee, pulled it a bit left, and caught a lucky break when it bounced from the deep rough and just caught the first cut of rough.
“I really think Tiger still believes he can win,” said Mark Rolfing, who was walking with Woods and Forsman for NBC.
Woods’s second shot caught a front bunker, and he blasted out to about 10 feet. “He has got to make this putt,” Miller said, no doubt speaking for the entire network and most of the audience.
Woods made the putt. He trailed by 10. Furyk hadn’t even arrived at the golf course yet, but on NBC—regardless of the twenty-four players starting the day between Furyk and Woods—it had practically become match play at that moment. Miller even saw hope in Forsman’s first-hole birdie. “If Tiger is playing with someone who is also playing well, that will help him,” he said.
Forget about what it might do for Forsman. That didn’t really matter.
Woods took out his driver again on the 400-yard par-four second hole. This should hardly have been a surprise. He was 10 shots down on the last day, and his conservative strategy the first three days had gotten him a tie for 26th place. To do anything but play aggressively made absolutely no sense.
And yet when Miller saw the driver come out, he almost leaped from the anchor booth next to the 18th fairway. “This is a different Tiger Woods today,” he exclaimed. Woods hit a perfect drive. NBC went to commercial. When they came back, and Rolfing informed Miller that Woods had only 76 yards left to the hole, Miller said (you guessed it), “This is a different guy today.”
Dan Hicks joined in, adding, “He’s clearly got his foot on the accelerator.”
Unfortunately for NBC and the millions turning on TVs hoping to find Woods five under for the day after six holes, Woods’s accelerator was jammed. He did manage to birdie the sixth—the easiest hole statistically on the
golf course—but little else was happening for him. In fact, as he approached the end of the front nine and the leaders began their rounds, it was quickly becoming apparent that this was not going to be a day when 61, 62, 63, or 64 was likely or even possible. The USGA, with some help from the warm, dry weather, had seen to that.
Trip Kuehne, who had finished as the low amateur in the field at 10 over par, was the first to voice in his postround interview with Bob Costas what was becoming apparent: “The golf course is playing hard and very fast,” he said, having shot a very respectable final round 73. “The guys are going to get welcomed to the U.S. Open today.”
Almost at the exact moment that Kuehne was making his prediction, Woods came to the par-four ninth. He was still two under for the day, and Rolfing was noting that he needed to pick up the pace since he was still nine shots back of Furyk. Instead, after his second shot spun off the front of the green, Woods four-putted for double bogey. He then missed the fairway at 10 and made another bogey, leaving him one over par for the round and 12 shots behind Furyk with eight holes to play.
There would be no Tiger Miracle on this Sunday.
“Maybe this is the day that Olympia Fields exacts a little revenge,” Hicks commented.
There was early evidence that that was what was happening. Ernie Els had started his day with a double-bogey seven at the first hole. Eduardo Romero almost hit his tee shot out of bounds and made a bogey on the first, as did Mark O’Meara.
The twosome that seemed most likely to make a move on Furyk and Leaney was the one directly in front of them: Nick Price and Vijay Singh. Price had won three majors, although it had been nine years since his last one, and at forty-six, he would be the oldest Open champion if he won. Singh had won a pair of majors and, having just turned forty, was still in his peak years as a player.
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