94 gd | us open 2019
A large, triangular shape
was riding in on the wind over
the 15th tee as Tiger prepared
to tee off.
“Hold on, I’m being told
we’ve got Greg Norman back
with us,” said Nantz.
“That’s right, Jim,” shouted
Norman over a howling wind.
“I’ve commandeered a hang
glider, and I’m coming in over
15—tad bumpy, but the view’s
sensational. We’re directly
downwind here, and Tiger’s
hit a ripper—felt it whiz right
by. I’m going to circle back for
Jack’s shot... hold on, is that
what I think it is?”
“Looks like Stevie’s taken
something from the bag and
tossed it into the air,” said
Nantz.
“Right, that’s a boomerang
headed straight for me—eva-
sive action!”
As Nicklaus hit his drive,
the glider veered hard right—
just avoiding the boomerang—
caught a heavy gust and sailed
off course toward houses across
the street, where a loud crash
was heard.
“Greg, are you all right?”
A few choice words were
bleeped, dogs barked, and
then: “Seen worse, Jim. Tan-
gled up in somebody’s patio
set—good boy; let go of my
pants—and the glider’s a total
loss, but if my arm’s not a com-
pound fracture, I’ll get right
back out there.”
“No hurry, Greg,” said
Nantz. “Now Ken, Tiger’s in
fine shape, but it looks like
Jack’s drive caught that left
fairway bunker.”
“That’s right, Jim. Probably
didn’t help having a UFO pass
directly overhead as he swung.”
“I see Bill Murray’s got a
few choice words for Stevie,”
said Faldo.
“A boomerang, really? You
know who I’m gonna call right
now, Crocodile Dumbass?” said
Murray, dialing a phone. “You
know who I’m gonna call?”
“No, who you gonna call?”
asked Stevie.
“Ha! I just wanted to hear
you say it,” said Murray, pock-
eting the phone. “Karma’s
coming for you, pal, and a hard
rain’s gonna fall.”
“It already is,” said Stevie,
confused.
Jack’s ball had plugged in
the middle of the bunker. Mur-
ray held out the bag and closed
his eyes. Jack chuckled, pulled
a 9, caught it clean and ran it
onto the front of the green.
Tiger eased a low pitch shot
that checked up 15 feet left.
“Great recovery by Jack,”
said Venturi. “But advantage,
Tiger.”
Murray got on his hands
and knees beside Jack, and
both stared down his 35-footer.
“What do you see?” asked
Jack.
“There is a path,” said Mur-
ray, cupping the brim of his
yellow rain hat, “but only you
can find it.”
“Why don’t you go find us
some fish sticks?” said Jack.
Murray nodded thought-
fully. “That was funny.”
Jack took his stance,
stroked it and followed it
halfway to the hole, raising
his putter as it dropped. Ledby Murray, the crowd erupted
again.
“That’ll give you goose-
bumps—shades of Augusta in
’86!” said Nantz. “And I’m not
even sure that’s happened yet.”
The gallery settled as Tiger
went to work. With a steady
stroke, he read the line and the
wind perfectly and nailed it to
the back of the hole to match
Jack’s birdie. Another eruption.
“They’re both in the zone
now, Jim, Johnny and Nick,”
said Venturi. “Did I ever tellyou about the time Harvie Ward
and I played Hogan and Nelson
at Cypress?”
“Yes,” said Nantz, Faldo and
Miller.
As Ken told the story any-
way, Jack and Tiger halved
the 16th. Heading to 17, Stevie
walked close to Murray: “Don’t
know what you’re up to, fella,
but you’re not getting in my
head.”
Murray’s phone rang. “Ex-
cuse me a sec.” He answered.
“Hey, buddy... you did? No
kidding, where are you?...
Yeah, he’s right here.... Great,
I’ll tell him.” Murray hung up
and turned to Stevie. “Some-
body wants to talk with you.”
“With me?”
They turned a corner. Arnold
Palmer stepped into view,
smiled menacingly, and held up
the boomerang. He beckoned
Stevie with an index finger.
Stevie froze.
“Nobody refuses The King,
my friend,” said Murray. “I’ll
watch the bag for you.”
Stevie set the bag down
and headed to Arnie. Jack and
Tiger turned and watched from
the tee as Palmer put an arm
around Stevie’s shoulder, walk-
ing him around the trees out
of sight.
Murray shouldered both bags
and hustled to the tee. “Sorry for
the delay, gentlemen.”
“What’s Stevie doing?”
asked Tiger.
“Oh, Stevie,” said Murray.
“Won’t see him no more.”
The trees shook violently,
raised voices were heard, cries
of pain, and someone apologiz-
ing profusely. Murray didn’t
even turn around.
“Swing away, fellas,” said
Murray. “Life begins where fear
ends.”
Jack and Tiger looked at
each other and suppressed
grins. Jack pulled a 1-iron and
stepped to the ball.
“The wind is positively
howling here at 17,” said Nantz.
“I thought that was Stevie,”
said Faldo.
“It’s coming dead across, left
to right,” said Venturi. “I don’t
know how you even get to that
back-left pin.”
Jack took dead aim, ham-mered it, and the ball soared
straight for the pin.
“Did he overcook it?” said
Miller.
“But look at this!” said
Nantz. “It apparently hit
someone behind the green.... Just incredible, the ball’s
rolled back on, 20 feet from
the flag! I’m told Gary Player’s
down there. What happened,
Gary?”
“I was standing beside
the elegant Spaniard Severiano
Ballesteros when that ball
came screaming at us and
bounced right off him. Are you
all right, Seve?”
“Oh, the ball you know, she
only hits the umbrella. Never
touches me. And now she is
fine. But you know, I still can’t
believe Jack—although he’s a
beautiful, beautiful man—beat
me in the semifinals.”
Back on the tee, Tiger hit a
low draw that fought the wind
and held its line. It checked up
on the right side, just shy of the
ridge, about 25 feet.
“Par’s a sure thing for Tiger,”
said Miller.
“I’d say the same for Jack,”
said Faldo.
“Gary, what is the matter
with these boys?” Seve asked.
He nodded behind Player at
Dustin Johnson and Brooks
Koepka, exhausted, bent over,
gasping for breath.
“They’re just a bit out of
form, but believe me, I’ll have
them sorted out in no time.”
Brooks cleared the rain
from his eyes, staring at the
group approaching the green.
“Dude, you seeing what I’m
seeing?”
“One caddie carrying both
bags?” said Dustin.
“Not that, bro,” said Brooks.
“I think that’s the dude from
‘Caddyshack.’ ”
Dustin cleared his eyes.
“No way, bro, that’s the dude
who played the dude from
‘Caddyshack.’ ”
Jack ran his putt close.
Tiger conceded the par and
took his stance.
“Tiger with a putt that
would give him the lead,” whis-
pered Nantz. “He gets it rolling
... right on line... it catches
the lip and rolls just by. This