Down The Stretch

It has been said by many great golfers that their main goal in any tournament is to get into contention going into the back nine of the final round. I would certainly agree with that, for that is where you see what you are made of, where you test yourself and all of the things you have been practicing not only for that week, or month, or year, but for your whole life. I tend to look at whatever my present state of affairs happens to be as the sum of everything that has happened in my life right up to that particular moment: all of my experiences combine to make me what I am right now, and my ability to react to the situation at hand depends on what I have learned from the past. Every decision, every choice I make is based on who I am, what I know, and how I feel about what is happening at the moment.

As we gain more experience, either through age or exposure to similar situations, it may seem like we have been there before, and we are better able to choose more effective reactions, make better choices. In life this might be termed “maturity”; in golf we call it getting better. But since golf is a physical pursuit, it is not only experience, but the mastery of the considerable demands of technique that determine how things turn out in the end. In addition, there is always the element of the competitor over whom we have little or no control, and that throws a major wrench into the equation.

I tell all my students that there is an inevitable, unavoidable cycle in golf. You practice so that you might play better when it counts (when it means something to you), and you play so that you can test what you have been practicing and figure out what to practice next. This is tournament golf in a nutshell: you play the course as best you can, and when all the scores have been added up you are either a winner or you are not. If you win, you enjoy it for a while and try to figure out how you managed it, and if you lose you get out to the range or the course to figure out what happened and how you can do better the next time. That’s pretty much it, although it becomes apparent right from the start that no two competitions are alike, and if you think you know just what to do and how to do it at any particular point just wait until the next shot, or the next hole, and you will be faced with something completely different. Of course, that is half the fun.

I have played competitive golf for 35 years, so you might think that I have been in most every situation you could come up with as far as finishing tournaments goes. Well, you would be wrong, as my account of three events will show. I’ll start with the Maryland State Open, which happened to be played this year at my home course, Woodholme Country Club. I have a pretty good record in the Open, but I hadn’t won in 10 years, since I went back-to-back at Congressional and Chartwell in 1994 and 95. I always want to win the tournaments I play in, but certain events mean more than others, not unlike the majors on the big Tour, or events such as the TPC, the Memorial, or the WGC Championships. For PGA Club Professionals there is the National CPC, the Section CPC, the Section Assistant’s Championship, the Match Play, the Tournament of Champions, and the State Open. Winning any one of these makes it a good year, and far in the future when a player’s record is discussed these are the tournaments that will be mentioned.

Having recently turned 48 I am more inclined to think about my record than I used to be. Realizing that I will not be able to win these tournaments forever I am now conscious of how many I have won, and the opportunity to add another to my resume makes me a bit more excited than may be a good idea. As it happens, I have won the National CPC once (my greatest playing achievement) and each of the other 5 “majors” twice, and I would love to add to that total. My year started well with a medalist performance in the local U.S. Open qualifier and earning a spot in the Booz-Allen Classic at Congressional (the local PGA Tour event), but I failed in the Open Sectional and played poorly in the actual Tour event. I followed that up with a mediocre 39th place finish at the Ocean Course in Kiawah Island in the National CPC in brutal conditions, and had a number of questions as to the state of my game heading into the Maryland Open.

Anytime a tournament is held at your home course you are immediately under the microscope. I tried my best to put the expectations of being the favorite out of my mind, but I admit that I was plenty nervous as the tournament got under way. As the field soon found out, Woodholme, designed by Scottish architect Herbert Strong in 1927, is a hidden gem of a course that provides a stern test of strategy and shot making. While I didn’t have my best striking game on hand I found that my familiarity with the course was a big advantage relative to the rest of the players. The most important piece of local knowledge at Woodholme is actually quite simple: never shoot for a back pin. Going over any green here is a bad idea: when the pin is back it is death. I played conservatively, avoided the big number, and had five birdies and four bogies the first two rounds to share the lead at one-under going into the last day.

My rival was Gary Mankulish, a strong young assistant from Lakewood Country Club who regularly out-drove me by 40 yards. Gary played flawlessly on the front nine and took a 3 shot lead, at which point my caddy offered “I think you’re going to have to make a move. He doesn’t look like he’s going to come back to you”. “Just wait”, I said in reply. “I’m having a hard enough time with the course. I’ll keep grinding along, and I think you’ll see that things will tighten up.” Sure enough, we came to eighteen all even, but when I put the ball in the right trees and had to punch out up the left rough some eighty yards short of the green (while Gary was just a few yards off the front of the green in the fringe in two, probably putting for birdie), it didn’t look good for the hometown favorite. I barely had a shot at the pin with a large tree just on the edge of my line, and as someone in the gallery commented I could easily make 6 from where I was. What followed was one of the best shots I have ever hit, especially under the circumstances. I went after my 58 degree wedge, which flew almost straight up and just nipped a leaf as it skirted the left trees. The ball landed on the green about 10 feet under the hole, then rolled right up to the cup and lazily lipped out, finishing no more than 6 inches away. Gary’s putt from the fringe pulled up about 4 feet short, and now he had a putt to tie when just moments before it looked as though he was in the driver’s seat. He poured it in, and it was playoff time.

The officials chose the 12th as the first playoff hole, a decision I was not happy with as it was a 480 yard par 4 converted from a 5. My best drive would leave me 200 yards out, while Gary could get it down to 160. Sure enough, we both hit good drives, and my 4 iron ended up just outside of Gary’s 8-iron, about 25 feet away. We both missed, and the playoff moved over to the 18th hole. I put my tee in the ground, and as I walked back behind the ball to start my routine, an official told me to wait for a second. “An issue has come up and we have to talk to Gary, so just hold up for now.” I watched as the blue-blazered gentlemen pulled Gary aside, and when Gary hung his head and rubbed his eyebrows I knew something was up.

“Wayne, we have an unfortunate situation here. We’ve been informed that Gary is not in good standing in the PGA. We have disqualified a number of other players for the same reason, and we feel that it would not be fair to let Gary continue with the competition. So, congratulations: you are the winner.” At that moment there were at least 100 people following the playoff, including Gary’s wife and mother. I instinctively kept my eyes on Gary. It was like driving by a car accident: you can’t look away, and your first thought is “damn, I’m glad that’s not me.” I immediately felt so bad for him that tears welled up in my eyes. I saw that his mother had no idea what was going on, and I gave her a hug and told her that her son had been disqualified.

As it turned out, Gary had not completed his educational requirements to retain his playing privileges in the Section, and actually had been suspended from membership since before last year’s event, for which he shouldn’t have been eligible either. Both the PGA and the Maryland State Golf Association had allowed Gary to compete, and he went on to finish in the top 10. Having played last year, Gary figured he was O.K. for this year as well and sure enough, his application was accepted and he played right up until the end when an MAPGA official noticed his name on the web site Wednesday afternoon, found it odd that Gary had not played in a Section event for over a year, and checked up on his eligibility. Upon finding the problem he called the Woodholme pro shop about 2 PM, just as we were coming up the 18th hole. By the time a decision had been made as to what to do, we were already putting out on the first hole of the playoff, which thankfully was still in progress when the officials caught up to us. Had Gary won it would certainly have been a worst-case scenario for everyone involved. As it was, it was truly the most bizarre ending to a tournament I had ever been involved in, but the good news was that I had won, and at my home course to boot, and I was as happy as I could be.

Two weeks later I was still feeling great about the win, and now it was time for the Assistant’s Championship, an event of lesser caliber (in my mind), but one, nevertheless, that goes on the resume in the event of a victory. It is a 36-hole event, and this year it was played at Raspberry Falls in Leesburg, Va., an excellent Gary Player design. It must have been over 100 degrees on Monday, and my mediocre 71 was three shots out of the lead, with 5 other guys ahead of me as well. My prospects dimmed when I started the day one over after three, but I birdied four to get back to even and things at least began to look up. I parred five, and then birdied 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 to go 6 under for the day and take the lead in the tournament. I kept hitting it close coming in, but the putter went cold and I came to the eighteenth still at 7 under for the tournament.

I don’t usually like to know how everyone else is doing or how I stand in relation to the field until the last hole. In this case I finally asked an official after hitting a nice drive on the par 5, and found that Faber Jamerson had birdied the last to get to eight under for the event. This meant that I needed a birdie to tie, and with only 200 yards to the pin I had a great chance to get into a playoff or even win. Now, it should be obvious to everyone that no shot is easy when it’s on the last hole and it means everything. In this case I had a 5-iron in my hands, aiming at a green I couldn’t see, as it set behind a group of tall trees and over a large ditch. The pin was far left, and I picked a spot over the trees to go right at it. My problem shot in any circumstance is the flare to the right, and under pressure that tends to crop up even more often. Sure enough, I gave it an aggressive swing but came out from under it a bit and blocked it some 20 yards right of the pin just off the fringe of the wide green. It was a decent shot, and my speed on long putts had been great both days, but I had to come up over a hump and back down to the hole from about 70 feet. I was definitely nervous, but I gave the putt a firm rap and thought I had hit it hard enough to give it a chance. I was quite surprised to see it pull up 6 feet short, and now it boiled down to make it or leave in second place.

Facing a putt to tie for the lead on the last hole is just the type of situation that every competitor hopes for. Your ability to cope with the situation and come up with a suitable effort depend on all the qualities that make you the player that you are, namely technique, experience, desire, and just the toughness to bear down and hit a good shot when you need it. You can’t be afraid of it: you have played well enough to get where you are, and all the playing and practicing you have done all your life all add up to where you are standing at this very moment. Still, the best you can do is read the putt, go through your routine, and roll it on the line you choose. The same holds true with a shot from the fairway or a drive from the tee. Line it up, repeat your routine, and hit the shot. The more times you go through that type of situation the more you realize that whatever the stakes it is never life and death, that no matter what the result life will go on, and tomorrow you will be out practicing to get better anyway. Such perspective is helpful in calming what can be a runaway mind and can help you focus on the task at hand.

I felt fine over the putt, and when I hit it I thought I had made it. Unfortunately it broke two inches more than I thought it would, and when it skimmed over the left edge I had lost. I was certainly disappointed, but I had given it a good effort, albeit not enough to finish first.

Three weeks later the MAPGA Section Championship was upon us, a tournament that occupies the top rung in importance among local club pro tournaments, with the winner earning over $8,000 and double points for Player of the Year. I had won the event twice before, in 2000 and 2001, the first victory happening at Hillendale Country Club, which happened to be the site of two rounds of this year’s tournament as well. I started off the first round at Mountain Branch with nice 68, featuring some timely putting which saved me from some mediocre ball striking. Tuesday’s second round at Hillendale was played in an on and off downpour, and my round of 3 under par 69, also featuring some great up-and-downs, staked me to a 4 shot lead.

Looking back at my play over the year almost all my best rounds have been the result of decent ball-striking at best, coupled with excellent short game work and great putting. I shot 70 to medal in the local U.S. Open qualifier and 71 to qualify for the Booz-Allen, and both rounds were ridiculous displays of short game wizardry, with putts literally going in from everywhere. I would much prefer, and I work tirelessly to achieve, a swing that would hit quality shots as a rule so that I could play a round that felt under control, that if my putter got hot I would shoot 64 or 65, not 70. But such is life and golf, and of course you have to play with what you have. The problem is painfully obvious: poor technique tends to rear its ugly head when the heat is on. For the most part I have been able to finish off tournaments when I managed to pull out to a good sized lead. In this case, however, I felt a bit shaky right from the start, and knew I was in for a struggle, suspecting that my main competition would come from my playing partners, Dirk Schultz and Chip Sullivan, both extremely long hitters and accomplished players.

When Chip bogied the first and Dirk double-bogeyed, and I followed by holing my second shot on number two from 185 yards, I had a seven shot lead and probably seemed like a lock to anyone paying attention. I, however, never felt comfortable, and having been around many a disaster in golf (and having watched a few on TV) knew that I still had plenty of golf left to play. I kept up the good work until number 6, when I finally missed a downhill 3-footer for par. I bogied 7 by 3-putting from the front of the green, then did the same on 10, missing another 5-footer. Suddenly all my mediocre shots, which had been turned into pars by getting up and down, were causing bogies. I hit a great 4-iron into the par-three 11th but left my 8 foot birdie putt short, then yanked a 9-iron into a short-side bunker and bogied 12. Thirteen is a short, tight par-5, and after two great shots I two-putted for birdie from 15 feet. After pars on 14 and 15 it seemed that I was primed to finish things off, but alas, it was not to be.

I hit my typical bad drive, a block to the right, absolutely dead on 16, and played a conservative punch out to the fairway, where I failed to hit it close enough and made another bogey. I felt in control of my emotional state, but the swing to some degree and the putting especially felt far from spot on. I managed to drive it in the first cut on 17, then hit an ugly pull to the left of the left bunker with a 6-iron. The shot was so far off line that I didn’t even react to it-I just drove up to the green and pitched it on about 4 feet short. Normally I would knock that one right in, but I hit a tentative putt that pathetically dinked the left edge and stayed out. I had asked how I was doing a hole before, and I hoped that I still had the lead going into 18. Unfortunately for me Mark Evenson had birdied the last to get to 3 under, and I knew I had par to tie and birdie to win. I hit two decent shots to get within 90 yards of the pin, but I miss-hit my sand wedge and wound up 30-feet short, two-putting for par and a playoff.

I have been around the game a long time, and while I knew I had thrown away a big lead I still had a good chance to win. It certainly wasn’t time to dwell on what had happened. It was time to keep grinding, and I played four good holes, making a clutch 6 footer to stay in it on the third, when Evenson hit a remarkable wedge for a cinch birdie on four and the win. I had given it my best shot and had come close, but the glory was meant for someone else this day. I was disappointed to say the least, but I knew going in that my game still lacks the command that I need if I am going to be able to dominate events the way I would like to. There was nothing I could do about it except to get better. I simply need to improve to the point where days like this don’t happen, especially in the biggest events. With that in mind I set my alarm for 4:45 the next morning as I do every day, and looked forward to getting on the Bowflex and the elliptical machine for a good workout before leaving for work. I might get beat, but no one is going to out-work me. Next time I’ll have improved enough to save one more stroke, the one that wins the tournament. And if it doesn’t turn out that way, it won’t be because I didn’t make the effort.