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esmatch is going to 18 all square!”
Everyone gathered at the
18th tee in the steady down-
pour. Jack pounded one, fading
off the sea wall, deep middle.
Tiger launched a titanic tee
shot into the gale, sailing it way
past the fairway’s lone tree.
Declining an offer from Tom
Watson to carry a bag, Murray
scurried through the gallery,
hauling both.
“ ’Scuse me, coming through,
caddie coming through,” said
Murray.
“But you can’t advise both
of them now, Bill,” said Watson,
walking after him. “It wouldn’t
be ethical.”
“You raise an excellent
point, counselor,” said Murray,
setting Jack’s bag near his ball.
“You take Jack.” He hustled
ahead toward Tiger.
Jack and Watson consulted
briefly, both grinned—the
word Turnberry was men-
tioned—and Jack pulled his
3-wood. He gave it a rip, track-
ing for the front of the green.
“And he’s reached in two!”
said Nantz. “Jack’s ball settles
pin high near the right edge.
He’ll have a 25-footer for eagle!”
“Be shapeless, like water,”
said Murray, as he stepped away
from Tiger. “If you put water
into a cup, it becomes the cup.”
“You’re talking zen. To me.
Stick to comedy.”
“My fault entirely. Carry on,
good sir.”
Tiger played a perfect 2-iron
to the front edge, 22 feet below
the hole. The assembled greats
circled the green as the two men
stalked their putts.
“This putt’s harder than
it looks,” said Ken. “But if
anyone could make it in this
situation, my money’s on Jack
Nicklaus.”
The crowd held its breath
as Jack whispered at it, rolling
ever so slowly down the slope,
breaking left, tracking toward
the cup... “And it drops for
another eagle!” said Nantz.
“Oh my goodness!”
“There are pressure putts,
and there are pressure putts,”
said Venturi, “and that was a
pressure putt.”
“Jack f---ing Nicklaus,”
said Faldo. “Sorry, did I say
that out loud?”
Watson hugged Jack, Mur-
ray hugged him. Nicklaus gave
a wry smile and shrugged. Tiger
chuckled, then took his stance,poised, eyes wide as saucers
staring down the line. He
stroked it smoothly, straight for
the cup...
“And it hangs on the edge!”
said Nantz. “One more roll, and
it would’ve fallen!”
“Hold on now, Jim, with
this wind it could still drop,”
said Miller.
“He’s got 10 seconds,” said
Venturi.
The crowd edged closer.
Ten seconds of tense silence.
The ball oscillated twice, nearly
fell, but stayed put... and
Murray blew an air horn into a
microphone.
“There he is, your winner
of The GOAT Invitational, folks,
1 up at 18, Jack Nicklaus!”
“I can’t hear,” said Miller.
“The two men share a
manly embrace,” said Faldo.
“Genuine admiration there.”
“No question about it,”
said Nantz. “They’re walking
off, surrounded by all of his-
tory’s greats... now the crowd
lifts them both onto their
shoulders!”
“What a scene, what a
moment,” said an emotional
Venturi.
“And what a finish to a time-less tournament that truly lived
up to its name,” said Nantz.
As the crowd moved toward
the clubhouse, Tom Watson
and Bill Murray lingered on the
green, alone in the rain. The
wind settled, a gap opened in
the clouds, a ray of sun broke
free, and a rainbow appeared
over Pebble Beach.
“OK, well, that’s just com-
pletely over the top,” said
Murray.
“Can you feel it?” asked
Watson.
“I feel it,” said Murray,
wiping his eyes. “And just so
you know, these aren’t tears.
It’s rain.”
Watson wiped his eyes,
watching Nicklaus as they
carried him away. “There goes
the finest golfer who ever
played this game.”
“And by the way,” said
Murray. “I’m not crying, you’re
crying.”editor’s note You didn’t get
the winner you wanted in this
issue? You can send us an email
at [email protected], and we’ll
send the first 1,000 respondents a
copy of Tiger as the winner, or go to
golfdigest.com/go/goat.