One Man's Game

As the golf tournament that matters most, the U.S. Open naturally has produced any number of dramatic moments, spectacular shots and brilliant performances--the eagle-two that won the 1939 Open for Byron Nelson, the nine-hole score of 30 that Arnold Palmer shot in 1960, the third-round 66 that boosted a heat-sick and exhausted Ken Venturi toward the title in 1964. But never in 72 years has the Open seen a complete round of golf to equal the final 18 played by Jack Nicklaus on the Lower Course at New Jersey's Baltusrol Golf Club last week. In an almost casual display of power and precision, concentration and confidence, Nicklaus ripped Baltusrol to shreds with a five-underpar 65 that gave him a four-stroke victory and a 72-hole score of 275--best in Open history.

Breaking records is nothing new for Nicklaus, 27. When he was only 20, he went through the World Amateur Team championships at Merion Golf Club in Ardmore, Pa., in 269--the lowest score ever recorded by an amateur in major competition. Two years ago, he smashed the Masters record with a 17-under-par 271. He set pro golf's alltime official money-winning mark with $140,752 in 1965, and he is one of only four golfers (Gene Sarazen, Ben Hogan and Gary Player are the others) who have won all of golfs top four tournaments: the U.S. and British Opens, the Masters, the P.G.A. But as he went into last week's Open, Jack's official winnings for 1967 were only $31,321, and he had not won a tournament in five months. His problem, he said, was that he had been taking too much advice. "I've been learning to do things the way they're supposed to be done, instead of the way I do them naturally. From now on, I'm going to play my own way."

Fair Warning. One of the unnatural habits Nicklaus had acquired was a hook; he used to hit all his shots with a slight left-to-right fade. Another was a deliberately long, pendulum-like putting stroke--in place of the short, choppy stroke he had used throughout most of his career. At Baltusrol, Jack decided to do what came naturally, and in practice he fired a fantastic 62--eight strokes under par, two under the competitive course record. Arnold Palmer bravely insisted: "That won't shake anybody up but Jack."

For three rounds, while Nicklaus was shooting 71-67-72 and trying to get properly acquainted with his borrowed, white-painted putter, center stage belonged to a 23-year-old Texas amateur named Marty Fleckman. The son of a Port Arthur lumber dealer, Fleckman became the first amateur in 34 years to lead the Open after 54 holes when he fired 67-73-69 for a one-stroke margin over Nicklaus, Palmer and Billy Casper. Then out for the last round came the four contenders--and a physiognomist could have picked the winner. Fleckman was visibly nervous; Arnie was intent; Casper stood trancelike on the first tee, gazing vacantly at the sky. Nicklaus was smiling and strutting like a sergeant major.

Playing It Safe. For 18 wondrous holes, while Casper sprayed his tee shots, Fleckman blew sky-high and Palmer could not buy a birdie putt, Nicklaus was magnificent. He birdied the third hole from 12 ft., the fourth from 4 ft., the fifth from 14 ft., the seventh from 22 ft., the eighth from 4 ft., the 13th from 4 ft., the 14th from 5 ft. In all, he used only 29 putts. With a four-stroke lead and only the par-five 542-yd. 18th left to play, Jack decided to take no chances and hit a No. 1 iron instead of a wood off the tee. The ball sliced into the rough; Nicklaus pitched out--and reached for the No. 1 again. This time he belted it a full 240 yds., onto the green, 22 ft. from the pin. Jack carefully surveyed the putt and stroked it straight into the center of the cup for $30,000 and his second U.S. Open victory--breaking Ben Hogan's 19-year-old Open record by one stroke. Bobby Jones probably put it best when he remarked after the Masters two years ago: "Those other fellows play superb golf. Nicklaus plays a game with which I am not familiar."

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