Until Tom Watson came along, no one dominated the
British Open Championship like Peter Thomson. The great Australian won four
Opens in the 1950s, including three in succession (1954-56, a trifecta that went
unmatched in the 20th century). By the mid-’60s, however, Thomson had been
largely written off by misguided scribes, bookmakers and other so-called
experts. Certainly, Peter had continued to win his share of tournaments in
Britain and elsewhere
outside the U.S., but his mastery at the Open had
been swept aside by a new generation of Americans led by the charismatic Arnold
Palmer, Open champion of 1961 and ’62.
Along with Palmer and 1964 Open winner Tony Lema, a
young Jack Nicklaus had also begun to stroll golf’s international stage,
finishing third to Bob Charles in 1963 and second to Lema in ’64. It seemed only
a matter of time before the Ohio phenom would make his British Open
breakthrough.
Despite the naysayers, Thomson was anything but
finished as the ’65 Open at Royal Birkdale drew near. The first inkling I had of
his determination came one spring day when my friend Dave Thomas and I drove
from our homes in Bowdon, Cheshire to play a casual round at Birkdale.
There we found Thomson quietly working on his game.
Dave was well acquainted with Peter’s skills: In
the 1958 Open at Lytham, the long-hitting Welshman had lost a 36-hole playoff to
Thomson by four shots, 139 to 143. Dave knew Thomson was a consummate artist and
shotmaker, one who had played mostly long irons and fairway woods off the tee in
winning his first Open, also at Birkdale, in 1954.
Peter had finessed the course in that victory; now,
11 years later, it was obvious he was preparing a similar strategy. With two
months remaining before the event, Birkdale was practically burnt out already,
rendering it extremely firm and fast. The freaky bounces generated by its many
humps and hollows were certain to play havoc with long hitters. The only way to
avoid Birkdale’s tortuous rough and vicious willow scrub would be to leave the
driver in the bag.
Peter told Dave and me that day that he planned to
come back for as many practice rounds as his schedule would allow. I sped
straight home after our round and dialed up my bookmaker—I knew I had seen the
“Melbourne Tiger” of old.
The rest is history. Palmer grew increasingly
frustrated with the conditions and shot 70-71-75-79 for a 295 total, 10 strokes
behind Thomson, who stuck to his plan and mostly kept the driver out of play.
Nicklaus was never really in contention, either, finishing one shot ahead of
Palmer. Lema shot rounds of 68-72 to share the 36-hole lead with Bruce Devlin,
but his final-day scores of 75 and 74 left him tied for
fifth.
After Peter capped his
two-stroke win over Brian Huggett and Christy O’Connor Sr., we adjourned to his
tiny room at the Prince of Wales Hotel. Accompanied by his countryman Bruce
Devlin and his course design partner, Mike Wolveridge, we enjoyed a bottle of
good champagne, albeit sipped from cheap glasses off the washbasin. On our way
to the elevator, Peter peered into the bar and saw, among others, Palmer and
Nicklaus, perhaps commiserating over their failure to live up to the hype. He
didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to: A wide smile slowly crept across the
face of the Melbourne Tiger, clearly reveling in the afterglow of his “comeback”
triumph.
