AUGUSTA -- Of the 74 Masters tournaments in the books, of the decades of drama staged in Bobby Jones’ garden, how would you dare lift one Sunday afternoon above the rest?
How presumptuous to choose a single planting from the hedgerow of history that encircles Augusta National.
OK, a challenge then: Try to find a Masters moment more amazing than the one celebrating a 25th anniversary this week.
To have seen Jack Nicklaus in, as he said, “the December of my career,” suddenly young again, tilting at flagsticks, bringing the Augusta gallery to the edge of relative riot was to have witnessed the best this tournament offers.
That was true for those watching from a distance: “That’s probably the best major -- it's debatable -- but that’s probably the best major I ever saw on television,” said Ernie Els, who watched it all as a youth in South Africa.
And certainly all the more memorable to someone watching that day unfold from inside the ropes.
“You couldn’t help but be caught up in it,” said Sandy Lyle, who was paired with Nicklaus on that Masters Sunday in 1986.
“I loved every minute of it. The way it built, the sound growing from 15 (which Nicklaus eagled) to 16 (the par-3 that he nearly aced) and on from there. So many things I’ll never forget.”
Nicklaus today is 71, in apparent fine fettle for a septuagenarian golf icon.
Asked if he remembered feeling 46 coming down the back nine 25 years ago, he joked, "I would hope so. God, that was a great age."
He drove on to the property again Tuesday afternoon and declared: "I get the same thrill of driving in every time. I still get a big charge out of it." He arrived just in time to meet with the media and adjourn to the annual champions' dinner, where he reigns as the master of the Masters with his six green jackets. On Thursday he will serve, with Arnold Palmer, as the Masters' honorary starter, hitting one tee shot and no more.
Back in 1986, that sixth Masters seemed far out of reach. Nicklaus was six years removed from his last major championship. In the immortal words of the late AJC golf writer Tom McCollister, written as part of a pre-tournament chart of the field, Nicklaus was “gone, done, he just doesn’t have the game anymore.”
Nicklaus’ wife posted a clipping of that chart on the refrigerator at the Augusta house they were renting in ‘86, knowing that was the one place a dedicated snacker would be sure to see it.
The lack of faith in Nicklaus extended to the 63rd hole of the ‘86 Masters. Trailing Seve Ballesteros by six shots with 10 holes to play, Nicklaus birdied the ninth and made the turn as unnoticed as the all-time leader in major victories could be.
Just as the CBS telecast was firing up, a young producer informed Frank Chirkinian, the late godfather of golf television, that he had tape of Nicklaus' birdie on No. 9. "And Frank barked out at him, ‘Jack Nicklaus is not a part of this story,'" recalled CBS announcer Verne Lundquist.
Nicklaus would not be turned from his appointment with the victory of a lifetime in a lifetime of victory.
Nicklaus went 6 under on the back nine, a run that included an eagle on the par-5 15th and a tap in birdie on par-3 16th. His approach on No. 17, off hardpan, then hopped to within 10 feet of the hole.
As he surveyed that putt, behind him Ballesteros, as if dizzy from the series of blows landed by Nicklaus, drowned a 4-iron shot in the water fronting the green at No. 15, took a bogey and fell into a tie with Nicklaus.
The putt on 17 was for the Masters' lead.
Lundquist was there to call it, keeping in mind the minimalist rules for broadcasting golf, particularly the Masters. One of his more famous calls -- replayed constantly on these kind of anniversaries -- required only three words.
"Maybe…." Lundquist began as Nicklaus rolled the putt.
"Yes sir!!!" he exclaimed as Nicklaus strode toward the hole, raising his big-headed putter to salute the ball as it vanished into the hole.
"There is a technique others have taught me and it should be used more often now -- the technique of just being quiet," Lundquist said.
Once Greg Norman, the eternal Masters foil, pushed his approach to No. 18 right, failing to make par and force a playoff, the tournament was Nicklaus'.
All that was left after that was the retelling. As noted writer Dan Jenkins penned:
"On that final afternoon of the Masters Tournament Nicklaus' deeds were so unexpectedly heroic, dramatic and historic, the taking of his sixth green jacket would certainly rank as the biggest golf story since Jones' Grand Slam of 1930. That Sunday night, writers from all corners of the globe were last seen sitting limply at their machines, muttering, ‘It's too big for me.'"
Nicklaus' final major still resonates as something special for those in any way linked to it.
"I get asked a lot, what’s your favorite event ever? And that Sunday afternoon at Augusta is so far and away the top of the list, it’s hard to describe," Lundquist said.
Reliving it again for a while Tuesday, even the man who won 17 other major championships, a man who is considered the greatest golfer of his/all time had to say, "I've had a few other things like that. But nothing really quite compares with ‘86 here," Nicklaus said.
The challenge is there, for every Masters played and every Masters to be played: Top that one, boys.
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