The Master

Ask not what Jack Nicklaus can do for golf; ask only what golf can do for Jack Nicklaus. What more, that is. In a little over four years as a pro, Nicklaus, 26, has won 18 tournaments and earned $449,048 in prize money--plus another $2,000,000 or so from endorsements, investments, articles, books and TV. That allows him to live in a $140,000 house, fly his own $225,000 airplane, stuff himself with steaks (sometimes four per meal), and get eleven hours sleep a night. It also entitles him to blow a round now and then. Like the awful 76 he shot in the Tournament of Champions in Las Vegas. Nothing to be alarmed about, said Jack--just a slight hangover. "I'm still reacting to the week of the Masters."

"Too Bad, Fat Jack!" Now there was a week. The august members of Georgia's Augusta National Golf Club were embarrassed when Nicklaus ripped their course to shreds last year--firing a record 17-under-par 271 for 72 holes, winning the Masters by nine strokes. Last week there were spongy fairways to deaden long drives and two new greens that were as fast as billiard tables. Hostile fans screamed, "Too bad, Fat Jack!" whenever Nicklaus flubbed a shot. History was against Jack: nobody had ever won the Masters twice in a row. And so, it seemed, was fate.

On the night before the tournament started, Nicklaus' close friend Bob Barton was killed in a private-plane crash (along with his wife and another couple) while en route to watch Jack play. "Golf has never seemed so secondary," muttered the melancholy champion. "It's pretty hard to get excited about 5-ft. putts this week."

It was a clear measure of Nicklaus' greatness that he shot a four-under-par 68 in the first round, when the wind was blowing in gusts up to 30 m.p.h. It was a measure of his state of mind that he soared to a 76 next day, three-putting five greens. Grimly telling himself to "concentrate! concentrate!", he pulled his game together for a third-round 72 that tied him for the lead with Tommy Jacobs, 31.

"I haven't played well enough to have a shot at winning," said Nicklaus, going into the fourth round. Even so, he came within a hairbreadth. On the 400-yd. 17th hole he laid his No. 9-iron second shot just 40 in. from the hole. Incredibly, he bungled the birdie putt. On the 420-yd. 18th, his second shot left him 40 ft. from the pin; his long curling putt for a birdie slid an inch past the cup. The tap-in gave him an even-par 288, locked him in a three-way tie with Jacobs and Gay Brewer, 34.

A Matter of One-Half Inch. Most golfers would have gone to bed with a pill and a prayer for the morrow. Not Nicklaus, the perfectionist. What, exactly, was wrong on those two missed putts? He got his answer studying a TV rerun. "I had my eyes outside the ball," he said. It took a few minutes of intense practice to adjust his stance--a matter of about one-half inch. Beaming broadly, he strode onto the first tee for next day's play-off and slammed his opening drive 325 yds.

For Gay Brewer, the match was over quickly: he three-putted on the second hole, wound up with a 78. Jacobs' undoing was the tenth: he chipped short, two-putted for a bogey. That gave Nicklaus a stroke--which he increased to two by rolling in a 25-ft. birdie putt on the eleventh green. Finally, only the tree-lined 18th was left. "Two shots can disappear awfully fast," Nicklaus reminded himself, and he decided to play it safe--aiming his drive straight into the jampacked gallery on the left. Then he hit his only really bad shot of the day, a hooked No. 7-iron that wound up in a patch of dirt below the green. Pulling a putter from his bag, Jack ran the ball to within 6 ft. of the pin, sank the putt for a 70, a two-stroke victory and $20,000.

At the victory ceremony, there was an awkward moment: tradition calls for the defending champion to help the new champion into the winner's green blazer. "Fellows," said Nicklaus, "I'll put my own coat on."

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