The euphoric thrill of one round of golf in the 1977 Danny Thomas-Memphis Classic has lifted Al Geiberger through some difficult times–even a period when he thought his career, and possibly his life, was in jeopardy.
”Financially, these last three or four years have been slim,” Geiberger said last month in a soft tone, but with no hint of bitterness. ”I`ve gone through some tough times. You might say I`ve kind of disappeared off the charts. I`ve been doing everything I can to make ends meet until I can get out on the Senior Tour.”
There have been some highs, mostly tributes and spinoffs from the PGA Tour record 59–13 under par–he shot at Colonial Country Club on June 10, 1977.
”I`ll be walking through an airport or a clubhouse and I`ll overhear somebody say, `Would you believe that guy shot 59?` ” Geiberger said. ”It`s not like winning the (U.S.) Open and the next day everybody knows who you are. But instead of forgetting in 10 years who won the Open, people seem to remember me because of the 59.”
Without the marvelous round, Geiberger might have dropped out of sight, despite career earnings of $1,256,548 and 11 victories, including the 1966 PGA Championship, the 1975 Tournament Players Championship, the 1976 Western Open and the 1977 Memphis Classic. There have been emotional and physical rigors of surgeries that resulted in the removal of his colon. He experienced a divorce, remarried, and now, at age 49, has a 12-month-old child with another on the way. He`ll be eligible for the Senior Tour when he turns 50 on Sept. 1.
Through it all, he has remained ”Mr. 59.” And it`s been both a physical, emotional and financial boost.
”I was even on `Cheers,` ” Geiberger said in reference to the popular TV program based in a Boston bar. ”Well, actually I wasn`t on, but they were having some kind of trivia quiz on the show and they mentioned my name about the 59. People came up to me the next day and said, `Hey, you were on
”Cheers” last night.` They even did a rerun.”
CBS-TV prepared a documentary on his round for airing during the 1985 Memphis Classic. Geiberger missed the cut and flew home to watch the Sunday telecast with many of his friends.
”Just when it was time for my part, this voice came on the TV and said,
`We interrupt this program . . . ` and they never came back,” Geiberger said. ”Everything was preempted because Iran released the (American)
hostages.”
Geiberger has found that some people remember where they first heard about his 59–”kind of like you remember how you heard about (former President John) Kennedy getting shot,” he said.
”One friend was camping up in Canada,” Geiberger said. ”He went to the trash barrel to dump something and in the bottom of the barrel was a sports page with a headline that said: `Geiberger Shoots 59.` ”
Geiberger has given people reasons not to forget his 59, too. He`s written a book, done an instructional video, staged a Mr. 59 Invitational golf tournament for close friends and business interests, and handed out hundreds of memorabilia items as souvenirs during golf outings.
With a grin, Geiberger said, ”We`ve `59ed` people to death.”
His auto license plate in California reads: ”MR 59.” His son, John, wants to order a plate that says: ”Son of 59.” At Geiberger`s home in Palm Desert, he has a gallery of 59 memorabilia that his children have dubbed
”Al`s Wall of Shame.” His business card introduces him as ”Al Geiberger, Mr. 59.” The scorecard is printed on the back. He gives away golf balls with the scorecard printed on the ball. A limited edition of 1,000 plaques, highlighting the scorecard, was released.
”It almost kills me when I give somebody one of those (souvenir) balls and they immediately tee it up on a lake hole and knock it right in the water,” Geiberger said. ”Most people, especially history buffs, really treasure something like one of those balls or the business cards.
”And I might be respected more in Japan than over here. When I`m around a bunch of Japanese and I give out some of those (business) cards, they flip. You never heard such `ooohing` and carrying on.”
Geiberger`s easy-going, laid-back lifestyle has kept him from pushing for identity and possible additional riches from the unmatched score.
”I`ve got a friend who has bugged me to death to copyright the `Mr. 59`
name, just in case somebody comes along and shoots the same score,” Geiberger said. ”Kind of like Marvelous Marvin Hagler; it`s become part of his name. But I`m kind of slow moving on things. Really slow, sometimes.”
Health problems were a major setback. There was intestinal surgery in 1978, knee surgery in 1979 and colon removal in 1980, involving three separate operations in two months that resulted in an ileostomy.
”The surgery kind of knocked the starch out of me,” he said. ”I went through the stage of thinking I`d never play anymore, definitely not professionally.”
The surgery involved a mass of polyps on his colon. Fortunately, they were not cancerous or ”otherwise I wouldn`t be here,” Geiberger said. The physical problem was ”kind of a freak thing,” he said.
”My doctor said it was so unusual that it was kind of like I shot a 59 again,” Geiberger said with a laugh. ”He actually used that description.”
While recovering in a Denver hospital, and contemplating his future with some negative thoughts, he was given a pep talk by a nurse.
”She told me that there was a football player with the San Diego Chargers–Rolf Benirschke–who had the same operation and he was back kicking field goals in the NFL,” Geiberger said. ”Boy, did that ever pick me up.”
Now he and Benirschke are national spokesmen for the company that makes the appliance they wear for collection, storage and release of bodily excretions from the lower tract.
Endorsements with several companies have helped financially while earnings dwindled. Only once since 1977 has he won more than $22,000 in a year on tour. Last year he earned $8,212. Golf business outings have been a prime source of income.
”I do about 20-25 outings a year,” Geiberger said, referring to a business promotional format in which he plays with representatives and clients of major companies. ”When companies are looking for somebody to do an outing, my name comes up because of the 59. The 59 has enabled me to stay with some of my sponsors, I`m sure. And it`s helped me keep my name going in golf through the down years.”
Geiberger says he makes ”something like $3,000-$5,000” per outing. He says his gross income is roughly ”$150,000-$200,000” a year, which might indicate making ends meet isn`t such a headache. But he quickly mentions his overhead, alimony and other items that make the net income significantly less. His best year as a player was 1976 with $194,821 in tour earnings and
”endorsements probably ran my golfing income up to about $275,000.”
What will happen if somebody breaks his record?
”Well, I`ve had some fun with it for 10 years,” Geiberger said. Included was the erection of a Geiberger pavilion at Colonial, just south of the clubhouse.
”It`s more like a little gazebo, but I like it,” he said, grinning,
”as long as they don`t call it the Geiberger Memorial Pavilion.”
