This had an eerie feel to it, as though we were being prepared for the beginning of the end. Jack Nicklaus, who set so many standards, was establishing guidelines and deadlines, and the artist seemed less melancholy than his audience.
”Life is like a book, a series of chapters,” Nicklaus said. ”And if I can`t play well enough to compete, I`ll just stop.”
It was Friday night at Muirfield, behind the 18th green. Moments before, there was thunder by the sea as Nicklaus walked up the fairway toward the amphitheater created by an ancient clubhouse ahead and huge spectator bleachers, fully packed, on either side. Golf`s savviest and most appreciative fans responded to this framework for a farewell, and the Golden Bear admired them back.
But then, away from the masses, Nicklaus turned to the yellow scoreboard interrupting a typically gray Scottish sky. His name was nowhere to be seen, for he had missed the cut at the British Open for only the second time in 31 years, and that left him another empty weekend to ponder the fractured state of his game. Analytical as ever, Nicklaus didn`t dawdle.
”Now, here`s the leader, Nick Faldo, with 130 strokes,” he said. ”I`m at 148. That means he has me by 18 shots after 36 holes, or half a shot every hole. I don`t call that competing, do you?”
Nicklaus chuckled, but he knows as his listeners knew that this can`t continue. A month ago, he failed to advance past 36 holes in the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach. If Nicklaus thoroughly enjoys Muirfield-he named his hometown creation outside Columbus, Ohio, for it-he`s utterly soppy about Pebble Beach. Says if he had but one round of golf left on his agenda, he would do it there. Yet now, in consecutive majors from the Monterey Peninsula to Muirfield, the greatest golfer ever has felt the jarring backhand of unrequited love.
”This might be my last trip over here,” Nicklaus went on. ”If I`m playing this way next year, there won`t be much sense in it. I don`t want to come here just to be part of the scenery.”
”But in 1995,” someone mentioned, ”the British Open will return to St. Andrews, another of your favorites. You have to play there.”
”Have to?” Nicklaus replied, with a wry smile. ”In 1995, I`ll be 55. Who knows what my game will be like then? I don`t know what it`s going to be like now from one day to the next.”
Another giggle of self-deprecation, but Nicklaus sees the picture, and it doesn`t become him. Even in his ceremonial role during the late 1980s, Nicklaus still was formidable from tee to green. Usually, the putter rebelled. However, in the last year or so, erosion has spread. In his halcyon days, Nicklaus would launch drives beyond trouble, taking out of play however many bunkers he deemed in his way. Now, without all the power, Nicklaus lacks precision, too. During two relatively calm days, he found too many of Muirfield`s dreaded sand baskets.
”If I were smart, I`d have quit right after 1986,” said Nicklaus, referring to his gripping Masters victory. ”But I wanted to still play and still compete. So here I am six years later, not competing.”
If Nicklaus were 32, his strife could be a slump. But he`s 52, spending more hours in the air tending to business than he logs on the ground. He has lost some of his edge, his urge and his faith. He says his swing, too vertical, needs repair. He says he concentrates as ever and plays more than we think. Also, he feels in good health, at least until he looks up and sees the ball he visualized going thisaway winds up going thataway. A perfectionist dwelling in mediocrity is a frustrated, desperate man.
Nicklaus owns 20 major titles, 18 as a professional, and that record likely will be frozen from here to eternity. Also, he has an incomparable 91 finishes in the top 10 of the Masters, both Opens and PGA Championship. The runner-up is Gary Player, way back with 46. But Nicklaus` pride and ego are louder than those numbers and ovations, and the Senior Tour will not save him, because he`s not interested.
”Disappointing,” Nicklaus said. ”Made more money last year than ever and was looking forward to this year. Next two U.S. Opens are at Baltusrol and Oakmont, where I`ve won. But . . .”
”But,” someone said, ”people would rather see you shoot 78 than not see you at all.”
”That`s nice,” replied Nicklaus.
But it won`t be nice enough, because he has to live with the 78, not them. This can`t go on, and one way or another, it won`t.
