by Adam Lazarus
We have also indicated there was no simple, predictable link between wet conditions and scoring. Despite softer and slower greens due to the major rains that fell on Saturday, the players’ scores that day were actually the highest of the entire championship (see boxplot one). Moreover, on the day that Miller shot 63, scoring conditions remained very difficult; only three other players broke 70. As Jack Nicklaus recalled, even though Oakmont was “extra wet,” the golf course on Sunday afternoon “played its normal way.”4
Miller himself has challenged another frequent claim: that it was relatively easy for him to “go low” on Sunday because he was so far behind, and started out so far ahead of the leaders, that he felt no pressure; he could shoot at the flagsticks without fear of consequences.
In fact, says Miller, he felt extreme pressure from the fifth hole onward. Once he birdied the first four holes and blew past Nicklaus and Trevino, he knew he was in the hunt. Indeed, he succumbed to the pressure by leaving makeable birdie putts short on numbers five and six, mishitting a short birdie try on number seven, and three-putting a relatively easy thirty-footer on number eight. Just when it looked like his comeback effort was doomed, he birdied five of the remaining ten holes to eke out a one-shot victory.
Claims and counterclaims by participants and observers are one thing; but assessing the historical significance of Miller’s final round requires more objective analysis. We employ four criteria to evaluate Miller’s performance, all of which confirm its unblemished claim to greatness.
First, Miller broke a golfing threshold by shooting the lowest score ever in a major championship. To do so in the final round, and to win, surely imbued the round with greater historical significance. But setting a new low score for the U.S. Open would have been a tremendous achievement on its own; even if he had failed to win, it would have permanently enshrined Miller in the record books.
Second, Miller shot his record score in the U.S. Open, historically the most difficult of the major championships to “go low.” While all of the U.S. Open venues were among the nation’s most difficult, the U.S.G.A. always toughened them in consistent ways—narrowing the fairways, growing the rough, hardening and quickening the greens—that inevitably raised scores. “Old Man Par” remained the standard for measuring greatness in a U.S. Open.
That Miller’s 63 came on the golf course historically regarded as America’s toughest magnified his achievement. A 63 was simply unthinkable at Oakmont. The three consecutive bogeys Palmer made immediately after learning Miller was eight under for the day reflected a blow to his composure so severe that even he, the bravest comeback performer in golf history, simply could not absorb.
A third vital historical marker was how many bona fide great champions Miller overtook to win the championship from six strokes back.
At age twenty-six, after four years on tour, Miller had already won two PGA tournaments, so he certainly knew how to finish strong. But on several prior occasions when he was perfectly positioned to win a major, he had stumbled badly on the back nine—“choked,” in the term he would make famous in 1990 as a TV broadcaster. No one had reason to believe that down the stretch in a U.S. Open, Miller could perform at his best. And especially not when the greatest players of the prior generation—Nicktaus, Palmer, Player, Trevino, Boros, Weiskopf, Littler, Charles—were between three and six shots ahead of him.
But that is what Miller did. Too much commentary on Miller’s 63 has centered on his magical birdie-birdie-birdie-birdie start, but it was his remarkable 31 on the back nine—exactly where he’d sabotaged his previous major championship opportunities—that won him the U.S. Open. Miller knew the well-tested greatness of the players still several shots ahead as he made the back-nine turn, yet he used their greatness as a spur to take their measure and unleash comparable greatness in himself. Remarkably, even though the leaders played quite well by U.S. Open standards, Miller made up the six-shot differential and forged into the lead after birdying number fifteen. And expecting one of the established stars to rise to his challenge, he kept pressing for birdies, missing only by tiny margins on numbers seventeen and eighteen. It truly could have been a 29, even a 28, on the back nine at Oakmont.
Breaking a scoring threshold, conquering a monster venue, and bypassing reigning superstars along the way clearly define a golden path to golf immortality. But Miller’s miracle at Oakmont contained a fourth dimension that reinforces the historic significance of his final round and makes it unique in the annals of U.S. Open golf.
After an opening 71, Miller shot a 69 on Friday that was mainly a result of spectacular putting—the best putting Palmer (his playing partner) had ever seen at Oakmont. Even Miller admitted he’d never putted better. Miller’s 76 on Saturday allegedly resulted from his missing yardage book on the front nine. But, as we demonstrated earlier, that explanation makes little sense; Miller actually scored worse on the second nine, with yardage book in hand. The plain fact is that from a ball-striking perspective, Miller didn’t play particularly well on either Friday or Saturday. A hot putter was all that kept him in sight of the leaders.
On Sunday, Miller obviously turned things around from tee to green. He hit all eighteen putting surfaces in regulation and—vital for good scoring at Oakmont—he kept his ball below the hole each time. Once Miller striped a three-iron and stopped it within five feet of the flagstick on number one—the toughest opening hole in all of championship golf—there was little doubt that this round would yield a very different outcome from the 76 the day before.
But just how different that outcome was is what makes Miller’s final round stand out from all other victories in U.S. Open history. Between 1898 and 1973, seventy U.S. Opens were contested over four rounds.5 Interestingly, there was considerable variation in the winners’ scores between rounds three and four. Looking at the difference between the round three and round four scores for the seventy U.S. Open winners, we found that the final-round score for half the winners was within three strokes (plus or minus) of their third-round score (see boxplot two). This is a pretty wide range, especially in a U.S. Open where, the experts tell us, consistent excellence of performance under pressure is essential to victory.
In fact, that’s not how it actually worked out for half the winners, whose final-round scores (also captured in boxplot two) were four or more strokes different, plus or minus, from their third-round scores. Perhaps surprisingly, the winners in half the U.S. Opens were thus not very consistent over their final two rounds.
Even more interestingly, one-quarter of the time (25 percent) the winner’s final-round score was four or more strokes higher than his third-round score; likewise, one-quarter of the time (25 percent) his score was four or more strokes lower than his third-round score. A not untypical winner, for example, might shoot 69 in his third round and 75 in his fourth round; similarly, a not untypical winner might finish 75 and 69.
Stated another way, one-quarter of the winners of U.S. Opens did not finish in a blaze of glory; their fourth-round score was considerably higher than their third-round score, yet they still managed to win. And because they won, history will not record them as having “choked.” For example, Bobby Jones, in his Grand Slam U.S. Open victory in 1930, shot 68 in his third round and 75 in his fourth round, yet he still won.
Alternatively, one-quarter of U.S. Open winners shot considerably lower in their fourth than in their third rounds. Predictably, these victors came from well behind the third-round leaders to win: none more so than Arnold Palmer, who famously won at Cherry Hills in 1960 from seven shots behind by shooting a record-setting 65 following a 72 in round three.
Johnny Miller obviously fits among that quarter of U.S. Open victors who not only won from well behind (six shots), but scored four or more shots lower in his final than in his third round. But it’s the scale of Miller’s improvement that separates him dramatically from every other winner. Miller had to improve his Sunday score by an incredible thirteen strokes to win (he beat John Schlee by a single sh
ot). That achievement singles him out statistically from all other U.S. Open champions (see boxplot two; only Miller’s rate of improvement is statistically different from the rest of the winners).
Not Palmer’s dramatic come-from-behind victory in 1960; not Jack Fleck’s surprising 75-67 finish at Olympic to tie (and eventually defeat) Hogan in 1955; not twenty-year-old Gene Sarazen’s shocking 75-68 finish at Skokie to win in 1922 stand out statistically as unpredictable comebacks. Miller’s thirteen-shot improvement in the final round had no counterpart in U.S. Open history.
Whatever his ultimate source of inspiration—an inner voice, a psychic, an anonymous letter from Iowa, or a clear-eyed recall of how to correct a persistent bad habit in alignment—Miller’s miracle at Oakmont is sui generis in U.S. Open history. It remains not only the greatest closing round in the history of championship golf, but a personal triumph over previous failure that may match any in all of sport.
Appendix II
Interviews Conducted for Chasing Greatness
(in alphabetical order)
Miller Barber
Al Barkow
Andy Bean
Chris Blocker
Gene Borek
Jim Cartwright
Bob Charles
Bill Christine
Jim Colbert
Bob Cooper
Ben Crenshaw
Darryl Donovan
Jim Donovan
Julia Donovan
Dave Eichelberger
John Fitzgerald
Raymond Floyd
Bob Ford
Dick Fuhrer
John Garbo
Bob Gilder
Vinny Giles
Hubert Green
Rusty Guy
Laurie Hammer
Frank Hannigan
Geoff Hensley
Hale Irwin
Ralph Johnston
Tom Joyce
Jason Kunde
Ken Lindsay
Gene Littler
Dave MacDonald
Neal Maine
Dave Marad
Donnie Massengale
Terri McKinney
Bryant Mullen
Bob Murphy
Larry Nelson
Bill Nichols
Jack Nicklaus
Arnold Palmer
Marino Parascenzo
Loren Roberts
Bill Rogers
Sherie Roman
Curt Siegel
Ray Sigurdson
Marilynn Smith
J. C. Snead
Susan Stafford
Dave Stockton
Austin Straub
Sandy Tatum
Dick Thompson
Tom Tihey
Lanny Wadkins
Chick Wagner
Herman Worsham
Rick Worsham
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We have benefited from the gracious assistance of many individuals at Oakmont Country Club; their commitment to excellence sustains the vitality of the Fownes vision into the twenty-first century.
Banks Smith, Jim Malone, Bob Wagner, Pat LaRocca, and the late Fred Brand and Bob Hackett (who watched Tommy Armour hole his birdie putt on the eighteenth at Oakmont’s first U.S. Open in 1927) provided essential early encouragement.
In recent years, Tom Wallace, John Zimmers, Bryant Mullen, Chick Wagner, Dick Fuhrer, Bob Cooper, Dick Thompson, and Paul Pochan have offered that same heartfelt enthusiasm and readiness to assist. Three former caddies at Oakmont during the 1973 U.S. Open, John Garbo, Rusty Guy, and Tom Tihey, also contributed vital information to our research.
We extend very special thanks to John Fitzgerald, Oakmont’s archivist, whose lively intellect, boundless energy, and avid embrace of digital technology provided a model for our own research methods; and to Bob Ford, Oakmont’s magnanimous head golf professional, without whose guidance on innumerable occasions this book would not have been possible.
The U.S.G.A. headquarters in Far Hills, New Jersey, has extended vital support to our research, most especially in facilitating use of its archival and film collections. We can’t thank Nancy Stulack, Patty Moran, and Shannon Doody enough for making each day at Far Hills a joy, and for tolerating desperate phone call requests as well. Rand Jerris, the U.S.G.A.’s longtime museum director and now its director of communications, not only welcomed our inquiries but also answered them with special insight and meticulous care. Under the spirited leadership and creative vision of David Fay, the U.S.G.A. has pioneered on many fronts during the past two decades, and we are grateful that maintaining a first-class archive for tracking golf’s evolution is one of them.
Bernie Loehr, director, amateur status and rules of golf of the U.S.G.A., provided prompt and expert guidance in enabling us to resolve a complex rules deliberation of nearly a half century ago, and we truly appreciate his assistance. And Carol Semple Thompson and the late Phyllis Semple, in their passion for the game of golf, proved more instrumental in launching this project than they probably realized.
We also extend much thanks to Gail Tooks, Jesse Wilson, and the unfailingly helpful staff of the history department at Carnegie Mellon University, and to Joan Stein and Barry Schles of Carnegie Mellon University libraries for enabling us to access an endless stream of print and electronic data.
We were fortunate to interview several outstanding golf journalists who were generous in sharing their time and unique perspectives on golf, notably Al Barkow (a memorable eight hours of nonstop golf talk), Marino Parascenzo, and Bill Nichols. And we gained distinctive insights from several discussions, phone calls, and e-mail exchanges with two legendary U.S.G.A. officials, both of whom were on-site at Oakmont in 1973: former U.S.G.A. executive director Frank Hannigan and former U.S.G.A. president Sandy Tatum.
Stimulated by Bill Fields’s pioneering article on John Schlee in Golf World, our own research on Schlee (the antihero of Chasing Greatness) could not have been completed without candid conversations with various people who knew him well at different life stages. While not everyone will agree with our interpretation, we deeply appreciate the amount of time and energy our informants devoted to helping us shape our own views. Thanks especially to Jim Cartwright, without whose great generosity and personal caring our on-site research in Seaside and Gearhart, Oregon, would not have been possible. Sincere thanks also to Neal Maine, Ray Sigurdson, Dave MacDonald, Jason Kunde, and the wonderfully helpful staff of Seaside Public Library; and to Ken Lindsay, Julia Donovan, Jim Donovan, and Darryl Donovan.
Many players at the 1973 U.S. Open generously took time from their busy schedules to share their recollections of the event, and of Oakmont, with us, and we truly appreciate their courtesy (we list them all in Appendix II).
Thanks especially to Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus, who granted us more time than we had any right to expect. Special thanks also to Vinny Giles, Lanny Wadkins, Jim Colbert, Ralph Johnston, Dave Marad, Doc Griffin, the late Curt Siegel, and the late Gene Borek for sharing their recollections, and to Bob Murphy, Raymond Floyd, Dave Stockton, Bob Ford, and Rick Worsham for educating us about Oakmont in comparison to other great golf venues.
Adam’s Thanks
I want to express my never-ending gratitude to my wife, Sarah. Chasing Greatness was a part of my life just a few months before I met her, so she has been beside me during nearly every phase of the process. Throughout she has been supportive of me and our vision. Thank you, Sarah, for being an enthusiastic and encouraging cheerleader for this book.
Steve’s Thanks
My mother and late father, Ralph R. Schlossman, inspired me to take intellectual and athletic chances on whatever opportunities came my way. That combination has been a precious freedom for which I remain forever grateful.
Many thanks to my good friends, Gary Brant and Jon Schmerling, for sharing their gift of contagious enthusiasm.
ENDNOTES
PROLOGUE
1 “Since my arrival”—Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, May 16, 1935, Bert P. Taggart, “Brews
Here for Practice at Oakmont.”
1 “like a marble”—Pittsburgh Sun, June 18, 1927, Grantland Rice, “Armour Worthy Successor to Jones.”
1 “Oakmont is a duffer’s”—Pittsburgh Press, May 14, 1935, “Sports Stew-Served Hot.”
1 “We canna’ say”—New York Sun, June 11, 1935, George Trevor, “Oakmont Terrain Is Freakish.”
2 “the severest test”—Pittsburgh Press, June 1, 1935, Art Krenz, “296 Score Will Win National Open, Krenz Predicts; Oakmont’s Length and Traps Will Be Real Hazards.”
2 “Real Frankenstein”—Pittsburgh Press, June 6, 1935, Joe Williams, “Real Frankenstein!”
2 “I always regard”—Pittsburgh Press, May 12, 1935, Joe Huhn, “Oakmont Pays Dividends to No Golfer Unless His Game’s Near Perfect.”
2 “Wherever you go”—Pittsburgh Press, May 15, 1935, Joe Huhn, “National Open Championship Gives City International Fame—without Cost.”
2 “it is the most talked-of”—Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, June 1, 1935, Gene Sarazen, “Sarazen Says Oakmont Troubles His Slumbers.”
3 “Yes, you bet”—Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, June 3, 1935, “300 Score Will Win Open.”
3 “A shot poorly”—Golf Course Management, May 1983, Ronald E. Whitten, “Mighty Oakmont Rumbles Again.”
3 “His knowledge of”—Sarazen, “Sarazen Says.”
3 “mediocre player”—Martin, H. B., Fifty Years of American Golf (New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1936), p. 339.
3 “the most consistent”—Price, Charles, The World of Golf (New York: Random House, 1962), p.218.
3 “spun-glass”—New York Sun, June 11, 1935, George Trevor, “Oakmont Terrain Is Freakish.”