Last Word
By Jimmy Roberts
The U.S. Open is upon us. All the majors are special in their own way, but the ring of “national championship” has always seemed especially meaningful to me.
I’m lucky to have covered 32 Opens, and each one of them is seared in my mind for one reason or another. They form a tapestry of wonderful memories.
I grew up understanding that the U.S. Open was “the toughest test in golf.” But when I went to my first in 1981 at Merion, I walked away a bit confused. David Graham hit all 18 greens and missed just one fairway in his final round 67 that won him the title. Part of me was thinking: OK, that didn’t look that hard. What’s all the fuss about?
The same thought passed through my mind 19 years later at Pebble Beach when Tiger Woods set the championship scoring record of 12 under par. Of course, he was the ONLY player under par that week. He won by 15 strokes!
But the fact is, that although there may have been a handful of outliers through the years, the Open has always been defined by difficulty. No example of that is more emblematic than the 1974 championship, which came to be known as the “The Massacre at Winged Foot,” the title of the book Dick Schaap wrote about a trying week where Hail Irwin prevailed after shooting 7 over par.
At one point during the week, an angry player ran down the USGA’s Sandy Tatum, who was the chairman of the championship committee.
“No,” Tatum replied. “I thought we were just trying to identify them.”
And that has been the Open’s fingerprint. While the Masters has a beautiful intensity to it – the second nine is often filled with birdies and eagles – coming home at the Open is mostly about survival. If AP physics and calculus had a baby in the name of golf – the final exam would have been the U.S. Open.
When I think of U.S. Opens I’ve been to, I think of dramatic triumphs, like Tom Watson chipping in from “nowhere” on 17 to win at Pebble Beach in 1982 and deny Jack Nicklaus a record setting 5th national championship.
I also think of the heartbreak, like Phil Mickelson – pick a year – he finished second a record six times.
One of those runner-up finishes was in 1999. I think that might be the Open I remember most … but not because of Mickelson.
I always like to get to the site of the championship the Sunday before. The course is closed to the public, and a handful of players are always out getting in some early preparation.
When I showed up at Pinehurst in 1999, I ran into Payne Stewart, who was walking the course with his coach Chuck Cook.
The famed No. 2 would present players that week with a myriad of choices when they missed greens, which – given the “domed” putting surfaces and closely mown falloffs – they inevitably would.
Payne could be prickly, but on this day, he was excited to talk about the unique nature of the challenge that lay in front of the field.
As we walked, he demonstrated how the same lie could be played two or three different ways and with any one of several different clubs.
He was like a savant kid fascinated by having found something fun to play at. It was an amazing few hours for me to watch, listen, and learn.
Of course, Stewart won that week and the behind-the-curtain peek he gave me made me sound so much smarter than I actually was.
But the thing I remember most about that week is what Stewart said the night he won. We had just recorded an interview, and we were casually talking. For some reason – I don’t remember why all these years later – I asked him if he had any regrets?
He said that he wished he’d been nicer to people.
A few months later, he died in a plane crash. Aside from the tragedy of a woman losing her husband, two kids losing a dad, and so many people losing a friend, I was struck that day with another dimension to the sadness.
Payne Stewart lost his life just as he had come to appreciate the meaning of his humanity.
The man was on top of the world in so many ways … and then he was gone.
I think of that quiet Sunday night conversation with Stewart every time the open rolls around.
It’s good to be a champion, but my sense is he was more satisfied with his epiphany.
I can never look at that U.S. Open trophy without thinking of Payne and his victory on the course … and off it.
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Parting Shot: