GOLF A Taste of Money

Golf may be tne only sport in the world at which a man can make $20,000 a year in competition and still have nobody but a fanatic recognize his name. Just ask Jack McGowan, Pete Brown and Miller Barber -or, for that matter, Dave Marr. Going into last week's P.G.A. tournament at Ligonier, Pa., Marr was strictly a member of the pack. He won an occasional minor tournament, almost always finished in the money (20 out of 22 times so far this year), modeled sports clothes for Jantzen on the side. He was reliable, comfortable and frustrated. "I'm never going to win another one," he told his wife after blowing a five-stroke lead in last month's $70,000 Insurance City Open. "There's too much dog in me."

But when the difference between a Marr and a Jack Nicklaus is only a couple of strokes every 72 holes, accidents are bound to happen. One happened last week -and it was almost more than Dave could stand. He cried when they gave him a diamond-studded medal and the winner's check of $25,-000. "Some guys expect to win," he said. "But I never knew that I could."

The son of a Houston club pro and a cousin of onetime Masters Champion Jack Burke, Marr, 31, is typical of golf's second-magnitude stars. He started as a caddy, worked his way up to pro-shop flunky, golf-club and software salesman, caddy master and teaching pro before setting out five years ago on the tournament trail. He won $12,066 his first year, was up to $37,142 last year, and got his first real taste of glory when he sank a 30-ft. putt to tie Nicklaus for second place (behind Arnold Palmer) in the 1964 Masters.

On the 17th hole at Ligonier's Laurel Valley Golf Club last week, Dave was clinging shakily to a two-stroke lead when Nicklaus sank an 18-ft. chip shot from off the green. "That made me hot," Marr said later. "I decided I wasn't going to let him win. To hell with him." Dave promptly canned his putt. On the 18th he dropped his approach 3 ft. from the pin and got the shakes all over again. "I told myself, 'C'mon, make it, finish like a champion is supposed to finish. Don't putt short, just tap it in and walk off like a thief.' " He did, and headed for New York, where his wife was giving birth to Anthony Marr -named after St. Anthony, the patron saint of the poor, the pregnant and the lost.

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