My first Masters was in 1986, and 20 years later, the memories of
that first year still give me chill bumps. It was exciting enough just being
there, but it was beyond belief to give voice to the action as Jack Nicklaus won
his sixth green jacket with perhaps the most dramatic back-nine walk in Masters
history.
To be honest, I was a bit overwhelmed, having announced only one
golf tournament before that week. Being introduced as the 16th-hole announcer
was akin to being inserted into the 1927 New York Yankees lineup, right between
Ruth and Gehrig.
The other members of the crew made me feel most welcome. Steve
Melnyk took me out to play golf at Palmetto Golf Club in Aiken, South Carolina,
with a couple of top amateurs, Vinny Giles and Dick Siderowf. My roommate at our
rented house was Bob Murphy. Our housekeeper, Betty Mercer, told us about her
son, who she forecasted would one day be the heavyweight champion of the world.
Sure enough, Ray Mercer went on to win the gold medal in the 1988 Olympics and
in fact was the world heavyweight champ a few years after that.
Once the broadcast began, you could sense the excitement building.
At the time, three of the best players in the world—Greg Norman, Seve
Ballesteros and Tom Kite—were in contention. Nick Price was right there too,
having shot a course-record 63 on Saturday. Nicklaus had begun the final round
four shots behind Norman and didn’t do much the first eight holes.
But the drama built quickly, as Nicklaus birdied three consecutive
holes, made bogey on 12, quickly followed by a birdie on 13. And he was lining
up an eagle putt on 15 to get within two shots of Ballesteros, who had just made
eagle on 13.
The 16th tower is only 100 yards from the 15th green, so as
Nicklaus was studying the line, it dawned on me that we were sitting on a
gigantic moment. He made his putt, we went to commercial and I had one minute to
think of something to set the scene.
Before the round, one of our producers, David Winner, had reminded
me about Nicklaus’ history at the 16th hole. Coming out of the break, I
recounted his pivotal birdie in 1963 and described his long putt in 1975. Then,
Nicklaus backed off his tee shot to re-check the wind, leaving me some time to fill. So I asked Tom
Weiskopf, who was stationed inside our Butler Cabin studio and who had been one
of the victims of that 40-foot putt in ’75, what was going through Nicklaus’
mind. His reply—“If I knew the way he thought, I would have won this
tournament”—is a classic.
After Nicklaus’ birdie to pull within one shot of Ballesteros, I
had to say something. But I was feeling a bit lightheaded by the gravity of the
moment and wasn’t sure what had been said earlier on the broadcast. As Nicklaus
exited the 16th green, I blurted, “There’s no doubt about it, the Bear has come
out of hibernation.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, self-doubt
kicked in. “It was trite—surely somebody else already said that,” I thought.
Later, Brent Musburger relieved my fears. “Great job, kid,” he said. “And a
great line.”
Of course Nicklaus also made birdie at 17 and went on to win as
the others faded. Ultimately, for both the televised event and for my first
Masters, the final line belonged to Ken Venturi, with whom I would later share a
booth. I was walking back to the compound after the tournament when he pulled up
in his cart. As we drove away, he asked me how old I was. I told him I was
26.
“Jimmy, you may be lucky enough to broadcast 50 Masters,” he said. “But
you’ll never live to see a greater one than the one you saw today.”
