by Julie Ganz
Man, do I feel great.
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THE STORY OF THE 1897 OPEN CHAMPIONSHIP
GARDEN GRANT SMITH
Lovely summer-like weather prevailed at Hoylake, in the month of May, for the week in which, for the first time on this course, the Open Championship was played. Cloudless skies overhead, and the hot sun tempered by a gentle easterly breeze, that eased the outward journey and did not seriously impede the homeward, made the weather conditions perfect, for players and spectators alike. The course was in first-rate order, if a trifle on the hard side, and the putting greens, especially, would have been much improved by a day’s rain.
For a few days previous to the event, the combatants had been gathering from near and from far. Professional competitions, organised during the previous week by the neighbouring clubs at Wallasey and Southport, helped to relieve the monotony of practice at Hoylake, and the results of these were eagerly scanned, as affording some index of the prevalent form of the players.
The championship fell to be played on the Wednesday and Thursday, but by the Sunday previous, almost all the competitors, of whom there were 88, were at Hoylake, and all day long—there being no Sunday play at Hoylake—the links were dotted over with little groups of golfers, inspecting the course, and discussing the probabilities of the coming event. At the “Old Alps,” quite early, was a group comprised of Mr. J. E. Laidlay, Mr. C. Hutchings, Mr. H. H. Hilton, Andrew Kirkaldy, J. H. Taylor, W. Auchterlonie, J. Kay, the two Simpsons, and Willie Park—a pretty strong galaxy of golfers. Andrew Kirkaldy, though he had not yet played over the course, expressed the opinion that the putting greens “were jist the kin’ that he liked”; and how accurately he had diagnosed their suitability for himself, he proved, next morning, by going round in 76. Taylor had done a 73 the previous week, but he now seemed a bit off-colour, and ascribed that marvellous performance to luck on the greens. He and the other professionals seemed to fancy most the chances of Harry Vardon, last year’s champion, who had been first at Southport, the previous day, and who was in magnificent form. Mr. Hilton, who knows Hoylake and its possibilities better perhaps than any other player, gave it as his opinion that two 79s and two 80s would win, and that while an individual score of 76 might be returned, two rounds of 75 would not be done throughout the competition. Little he recked, as he stood there, that he was to prove, in his own proper person, the falsity of his predictions in each particular. But we must not anticipate. Willie Park and Mr. Laidlay were engaged in an animated discussion on putting, in which department of the game they both found themselves, for the moment, out of form, and were administering to each other sundry hints and prescriptions for their respective varieties of this distressing malady. Elsewhere were to be seen the two Vardons, with their finely cut features and fists like legs of mutton, and the stalwart form of Braid, towering above a group in which were cheery Ben Sayers from North Berwick, and Davie Brown and Willie Fernie, two former champions. With the exception of Mr. H. Hutchinson and Douglas Rolland no golfing figure of note was absent. In the club-house, the chances of the amateurs were favourably entertained. With Mr. Ball and Mr. Hilton playing on their own green, with Mr. Tait, Mr. Laidlay, and Mr. Mure Fergusson all to the fore, it was felt that the professionals would not have things all their own way, as had so often previously been the case.
Monday and Tuesday were again glorious days, though Jack Morris’s prayers for rain remained unanswered, and the putting greens became more and more fiery. From morning till night the air was alive with the crack of clean-hit balls, and some excellent scores were made in practice, though Andrew Kirkaldy’s score of 76 on Monday morning, was not beaten before Wednesday, when the competition opened.
The first round produced nothing sensational in the way of scores. Mr. John Ball and A. Herd returned cards of 78 each; Mr. Tait and Davie Brown 79 each; and Mr. Hilton, J. Braid, and G. Pulford took 80. Mr. Laidlay and J. H. Taylor were 82 each, Harry Vardon 84, while Willie Park put himself completely out of the running with a 91.
The afternoon saw the best all-round play of the competition. Mr. Hilton returned a magnificent card of 75, which was immediately surpassed by a 74—an absolutely perfect score— by J. Braid. Ben Sayers greatly improved his position with a 78. Mr. Tait again did 79, a score which was equalled by G. Pulford, Peter McEwan, and T. Renouf.
The results of the first day’s play left the competition a very open one, and was remarkable in that three amateurs were to be found in the first six. The following list shows the respective scores of the first six:—
J. Braid ... ... ... ... ... 80 ... 74 = 154
Mr. H. H. Hilton ... ... ... 80 ... 75 = 155
Mr. F. G. Tait ... ... ... ... 79 ... 79 = 158
G. Pulford ... ... ... ... 80 ... 79 = 159
Mr. John Ball ... ... ... ... 78 ... 81 = 159
A. Herd ... ... ... ... ... 78 ... 81 = 159
The first round on Thursday—another perfect day—seemed to be, on the face of it, a disastrous one for the two leaders, for Mr. Hilton took 84, and J. Braid 82. Mr. Ball spoiled his chance with an 88. Pulford, Herd, and Mr. Tait improved their positions with two 79’s and an 80, respectively, so that, at the completion of the third round, the position of the leaders was as follows:—
1st Day’s Score.
J. Braid ... ... ... ... ... 154 ... 82 = 236
Mr. F. G. Tait ... ... ... 158 ... 80 = 238
G. Pulford ... ... ... ... 159 ... 79 = 238
A. Herd ... ... ... ... ... 159 ... 79 = 238
Mr. H. H. Hilton ... ... ... 155 ... 84 = 239
All this promised a close and exciting finish, and the onlookers were not disappointed in this respect. Mr. Tait was the first of the likely ones to finish his fourth round. By steady and beautiful golf, he handed in another score of 79, bringing his grand aggregate to 317; and this score, in the opinion of many, gave him a very strong position. This fine score, however, was not long allowed to go unchallenged. It was soon reported that Mr. Hilton was playing in surprising form. Starting in the most sensational way, with 18 for the first five holes, he accomplished the outward journey in 38 strokes—a performance which he even excelled coming homewards, and he finished, full of running, in 75, making his grand aggregate 314, or three better than Mr. Tait’s. This brilliant effort completely altered the aspect of events, and all interest was now transferred to the doings of Braid, who, with Pulford and A. Herd alone, had any chance of beating Mr. Hilton’s total. When Mr. Hilton finished, Braid was at the “Rushes” hole, and hither, helter-skelter, sped Mr. Hilton’s crowd, all agog with excitement. They learned that Braid’s score to the 13th hole was 55, so that he only required to complete the remaining five holes in 22 strokes, or three under fives, to beat Mr. Hilton. Holing out in magnificent style at the “Field” hole in four, he still further improved his chance, and 18 to win, or 19 to tie, was now the comparatively easy task he had before him. The “Lake” hole he played steadily in five, leaving one five and two fours for the remaining three holes. But alas! the “Dun” hole proved disastrous to his chances. A raking tee shot, followed by a superb brassy, in which he crossed the corner of the field and lay about 30 yards short of the green, seemed to make a five certain. The approach to this green, however, is of the most tricky description, and Braid’s ball, though beautifully struck, got a bad fall on the hard green, and shot past the hole, some 10 yards, into the rough ground beyond the green. He failed to get his long putt dead, and took six to hole out. Even yet, two fours would enable him to tie—a three and a four seemed too much to hope for—but owing to weakness on the green at the 17th hole, he took five, so that even to tie with Mr. Hilton, he had to do the last hole in three. His second shot to the hole-side with his cleek was a beauty, and looked as if it were going to lie dead. It rolled some yards past, however, and as he failed to hole the long putt, he lost the championship by two strokes, finishing one stroke behind Mr. Hilton. Pulford and Herd, though again returning good scores of 79 and 80, had to be
content with third and fourth places, Pulford tieing with Mr. Tait for third place. The final scores were as follows:—
1st Day’s Score. 2nd Day’s Score.
Mr. H. H. Hilton 155 ... 84 75 = 159 = 314
J. Braid ... ... 154 ... 82 79 = 161 = 315
Mr. F. G. Tait ... 158 ... 80 79 = 159 = 317
G. Pulford ... ... 159 ... 79 79 = 158 = 317
A. Herd ... ... 159 ... 79 80 = 159 = 318
H. Vardon ... ... 164 ... 80 76 = 156 = 320
As will be seen, H. Vardon, the holder, had the distinction of having the best aggregate on the second day of the competition, and though defeated on this occasion, he worthily upheld his reputation.
Mr. Hilton’s win—his second in the open championship—was warmly received, and there can be no question that his was a magnificent performance. The advantage of knowing the course as he does, no doubt counts for something, and though, in receiving the trophy, he modestly, in view of this fact, gave the greater merit to Braid, it seems probable that this advantage is much overestimated. A man may know a course too well. Mr. Hilton himself took 84 to his third round, and the fact that Braid returned a 74 in the competition, and H. Vardon a 76, is sufficient to show that, in the few days at their disposal, these players, at any rate, had managed to master a good deal of Hoylake’s peculiarities.
Braid’s play throughout was a treat to witness, and indeed more superb golf it would be difficult to conceive. He drives an exceedingly long and low ball, that keeps very straight, and the ball leaves the club as if shot from a cannon. His second stroke for the “Dun” hole in the final round, in which he successfully carried the corner of the field, straight on the hole, was, under the circumstances, a magnificent effort, and one that will live in the memory of all golfers who witnessed it.
Perhaps the most satisfying player to watch, however, was Mr. F. G. Tait. Mr. Tait’s style is particularly fascinating, by reason of its quietness, and the suggestion it conveys of reserves of power. Here, there is nothing of the exuberant waggle of the professional, no wide straddle, or other strongly accented peculiarity. Nor is any trace of “side” temper, or playing to the gallery to be seen in Mr. Tait’s play. His demeanour, playing before a crowd of 3,000, is like that of the soldier on parade. But after dinner, “Freddy,” as he is known to his friends, can unbend, and whether blowing the bagpipes or proposing a toast, he takes, as he does at golf, a deal of beating.
Mr. Ryder Richardson, the club secretary, Mr. Harold Janion, and the rest of the club committee did much to make the meeting one of the most successful gatherings of golfers that has ever been held.
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THE STORY OF THE 1959 BRITISH OPEN
GARY PLAYER
The first one is always hard, and so it was for me, purely because I had worked myself to the bone to get to this point of winning my first Major.
There are degrees of success, and I arrived at Muirfield in Scotland having fulfilled most of these as a tournament winner around the world. But that was never going to be enough for me. I had to win Majors, to say I had beaten the best in the world at the game’s highest level.
It’s safe to say I made a disastrous start to this one, opening with a 75 that left me seven shots off the first round lead.
I battled my way through the next rounds, but was still in no great shape going into the final day.
That evening I attended a dinner which the president of Slazenger, Humphrey McMaster, also attended. I remember walking up to his table and saying, “Mr. McMaster, tomorrow I am going to win the Open.” He looked at me in disbelief and replied, “Young man, at your age? And besides, you’re six shots back.”
Willie Auchterlonie was 21 when he won the 1893 Open. Young Tom Morris was 17 when he won the Open in 1868. And here I was, 23 years old, six shots back, and saying I was going to win. Why not?
Then the moment came. I was playing the final hole, and all I needed was a par four to win the tournament. It would’ve given me the 66 I had set for myself as a target at the start of the round. The 66 I knew would win me the Open and change my life forever.
I made six.
My whole world collapsed on me right there. There is a famous photograph of me with my head in my hands and my wife, Vivienne, trying to console me. It took all of my resolve just to sign my scorecard.
Because I was so far behind at the start of the round, I finished much earlier than the rest of the field. So I left the golf course and headed straight for my hotel, convinced that I had thrown away the Open Championship.
I didn’t choke on that last hole. The weather was terrible and the wind was howling. That 18th fairway was very narrow, and I hit a drive that just crept into the bunker. I hit it out and hit the third on the front edge of the green, because the wind was blowing so hard, and then I three-putted.
But I had shot 284 in those conditions, and it proved too much for the rest of the field to match. I received a phone call from the course to inform me that I had won the Open, and could come and collect the Claret Jug at the official prize giving.
At last, I was the Open champion. I had broken through with my first Major.
THE CHOKE CHALLENGE
Breaking through for the first time brings with it a whole different set of pressures. I understood the pressure of Major championship golf. A year before Muirfield I had finished second in the US Open, and I’d had top-ten finishes in the Open in 1958 and the Masters in 1959. But this was new in terms of dealing with the pressure of trying to become a Major championship winner for the first time in my career.
It’s a case of dealing with the nerves of realising a dream for the first time. That can be a major obstacle when you want something so badly and have worked all your life to be at that point. The secret is not to focus on the pressure of the situation, but rather on the blessing of being in a position to go for your dream. And often, at the moment when it looks as if that dream has fallen to pieces right in front of your eyes, that’s when the phone call comes.
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THE STORY OF THE 1965 U.S OPEN
BY GARY PLAYER
Foreigners just didn’t win the US Open in the modern era. Harry Vardon did it in 1900, becoming the first non-American to win. Ted Ray also achieved the feat in 1920. But it eluded South Africa’s Bobby Locke, and he told me it was the one thing missing from his amazing career.
Of course, I wasn’t immune to the aura of the US Open either. It had long been in my mind to win the US Open. But let’s face it, American golfers dominated their national Open.
And of course, there was another not so small matter hanging in the balance here as well. The “Big Three”—the collective term for the dominance of myself, Arnold Palmer, and Jack Nicklaus—was now an established fact in the game. Between us we have won nearly sixty Majors on both the PGA and Senior (now Champions) Tours. This has never happened before by any three players and may never happen again.
By 1965, each of us had won three of the four Majors in the game. For Arnold, the PGA Championship was proving the elusive title. For Jack, it was the British Open. And for me, the US Open. I’d come close in 1958, finishing as runner-up four strokes behind Tommy Bolt.
So it came to pass that on a sweltering week in Missouri, in what is considered one of the most searching and demanding tests of golf established by the United States Golf Association (USGA), the Grand Slam was beckoning. And for a foreigner on top of it.
As always, I did my homework. Ben Hogan was a master of the US Open, and he always arrived well before the tournament to get used to the local conditions. Like Hogan, I made sure I had my daily routine running smoothly, down to the finest detail. I didn’t go out for dinner and stayed in my hotel room at night. I’m not a superstitious person, but I washed my same black golf shirt after every round and wore the same outfit every day.
Then I studied the golf course. It was a monster. At 7,190 yards it was the longest of any US Open golf course in history at that
time, and was made even longer by the lousy equipment and balls we had. During the practice rounds, I made copious notes and sketches of the course and greens, and would then study them in my hotel room in the evenings.
I started off well by shooting an opening round 70 and was two shots off the lead of Australian Kel Nagle. I added another 70 in the second round, and led Nagle by one stroke. A 71 in the third round kept me in front. It came down to the final nine holes, and what was now just a battle between Nagle and me. I was three strokes ahead of him to start the round.
Kel played superbly over those closing holes, cutting my lead down to only one stroke before I again opened up a three-stroke lead with three holes to play.
I stepped onto the tee at the par-three 16th. It’s a long hole, and I had a three wood in my hands. But then the wind died suddenly. I changed to a four wood, but in my mind I had this thought that I need to hit it quickly before the next gust of wind came up again. It was a classic example of how impatience can cost you.
My ball finished in a plugged lie in the greenside bunker, and I made five. Kel had made three, cutting my lead to one again. And when Kel birdied the 17th, it vanished completely. We ended regulation play tied for the lead, setting up an 18-hole playoff on Monday.
I putted superbly in that playoff, and was five up through the first eight holes on my way to winning the tournament with a 71 to Nagle’s 74.
I had finally done it. I had won the US Open. I had won my first Major in a playoff. I had won the Grand Slam. I had become only the third person in history to win all four Majors, at the age of 29. I had followed in the footsteps of Gene Sarazen and Ben Hogan. And more significantly, I was the first foreigner to accomplish the feat. Forty-five years later, I remain the only one to do so.