Remarkable shots that just weren't enough
By Melanie Hauser
GolfWeb contributor
AUGUSTA, Ga. -- He'd finessed the chip to the perfect spot on the green and as it caught the slope, he held his breath. No one took their eyes off the ball as it started to curve and began its slow descent.
Some 25 yards away, Davis Love III was begging the ball into the hole.
So many years, so many shots. Yet there's always one that defines the afternoon; one that anoints the next Masters champ. One that serves to remind us that the final 18 at Augusta National is a walk of faith -- in yourself and your game -- like no other; a test of patience beyond compare.
When the ball fell in the cup, you wondered if it was Love's turn. So did the crowd, which made sure the rest of the back nine knew something special, something magical had just transpired there.
Would it be the shot? Or was it yet to come? Or had it happened moments ago when Greg Norman willed a 25-foot eagle into the hole at the 13th and the crowd erupted? You could feel it in the clubhouse when the ball bounced into the cup. You felt sure the course wouldn't tear his heart out once more.
Yet it did. It tore at Love and David Duval too. So close. So far away. So good. Not quite good enough.
As they dissected their rounds, they used words like disappointment, sad, failed. They shook their heads. They smiled.
You wanted to know where they went wrong. What shot they wanted back. What they had learned. Where they would go from here. How many pieces of their hearts were scattered across those 18 terrifying holes.
And, lord, how in the world could talent like this go 0-fer at Augusta?
Simple. They were beaten by a man who put his fate in Augusta's hands. He didn't try to overpower her. He didn't assume he understood her. He finessed her. He trusted his game. He never doubted himself.
José Maria Olazébal doesn't have the length off the tee of Love, Norman or Duval, but he does have an imagination and a touch beyond compare. And when faced with a shootout down the stretch, he stuck a 6-iron on 16 to 36 inches.
"I'm disappointed I didn't win and sad I didn't win,'' Norman said, shrugging his shoulders. "But it's not easy to walk onto that first tee on Sunday afternoon in the final group of the Masters when you haven't played much for the past 12 months.
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| When Love chipped in at 16, he still had thoughts of a green jacket. (AP) |
"So from that point of view, it's just like riding that bike. You can get back onto it. Your mind takes you to the places you know where to go to. And, you know, there wasn't anything in my head that made me feel uncomfortable at all during the day.''
Yet, the fact of the matter is it was another near miss. His sixth since 1985, if you're counting. Yet it wasn't like 1996 when he took a six-shot lead into the final round and lost a tournament he never should have lost.
Still, someone had to ask if it was a heartbreaking loss.
"Not at all,'' said Norman. "Some people might interpret it that way, but I've answered that question before … It's not a heartbreak. Look at that leaderboard. There's probably a lot of other guys here who can sit here and say they're heartbroken, too. But don't make a mountain out of a molehill on this one."
Trust him. At 44, he knows he has more chances. Not many, perhaps, but how many players do you know who are driven as much by their losses as their wins? How many players put themselves in position to win here year after year and always come up this short? How many players would be back here contending less than a year after reconstructive shoulder surgery?
He knew he'd lost this one when his putt at 17 ran across the hole and Olazabal's dove in. There would be no chance to hole out at the 18th to tie. No chance to push this one into a playoff.
He wasn't alone.
The best player in the world came in here on fire. Duval had won back-to-back at the Players Championship and in Atlanta. He was in a zone. He was so focused, so sharp. It was hard, as the week started, not to imagine him in Butler Cabin Sunday afternoon.
Yet Duval never found the zone at Augusta. He was hitting the ball. He was thinking beyond compare. But he couldn't put it together.
There was a triple bogey on day two and a string of three bogeys. A so-so third round. But when he started the day with an eagle at the second hole and was tied for the lead after a 14-foot birdie dropped at 10, you had to wonder. This was the guy who shot 59 in the desert to win the Bob Hope; the guy who stiffed it at the 17th hole Sunday at the Players Championship to win. The guy who couldn't seem to lose.
But he did. One par on the back, four birdies, three bogeys and a double-bogey, the latter coming on the 11th hole just minutes after he tied for the lead. A 4-iron that got above the trees and dove straight into the water.
His back nine was a roller coaster. A step forward, a step back. "You can say I might not have done that as well as I should have or this as well as I should, but the thing that cost me this was not my putting,'' he said. "It was my wedge.
"I thought I was a good wedge player, but I failed to perform with those in a big way this week."
And Love? Marvel all you want at that chip-in on 16, but what cost him this jacket was his drive on the 13th. He was tied for the lead at the time and cruising. He stepped to the tee and pulled a 3-wood that caught one small branch and landed in the creek. Suddenly, he was scrambling for par.
"I probably should have hit a 4-wood because of the wind," Love said. "I actually should have taken it up over the trees like we did goofing off in practice. I should have gone ahead and hit it.
"It was just a bad swing at the wrong time. And, as I said yesterday, on this golf course, that will kill you.''
So instead of hitting a great putt for three and the lead, he hit it for five and a par.
Oh, what could have been. Augusta has a way of exposing even the slightest cracks in a game or a mind. With Love, it was the emotions of the day. With Duval, the wedge. With Norman, the fact he wasn't tournament tough.
And, there's that little matter of trust.
Olazábal learned that lesson in 1994 when Seve Ballesteros drove it home in a note he tucked inside his locker before the final round. Olazábal trusted and won then. And when he came here after coming back from a year on sidelines with foot problems, he trusted once again. There was no sense of urgency, no frazzled nerves. He was in control.
One by one, Norman, Love and Duval talked about what they would take away from this week. What they'd learned. What they knew they could do. What they still needed to do.
You know there are jackets in their future. All they need to do is learn how to trust.
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