Guts, Grit And Grandeur

McCumber. Nursing a tender back, McCumber came to the par-5 16th two shots off the lead, tried to fly a nine-iron at the flag and instead found the bunker. He made a McCumbersome double bogey and tied for eighth.

Tway. With a birdie at 14, he became the last of the ninesome with a chance to catch Floyd, but 16 brought twouble. Playing the hole without benefit of fairway, he didn't reach the green until his fourth shot, then three-putted. He tied for eighth, but still emerged as a tour rarity—a player of immense talent and composure at only 27. "Hey, if you're looking for a dad-burn superstar, look at this kid," said Tway's playing partner, Trevino. "He was so good today, I wanted to caddie for him."

All of which left Raymond Loran Floyd, who, beginning with a 20-foot par putt at 12, played flawlessly the rest of the way. He hit every fairway and every green but one from there on (14 in all), made simple birdie putts—4 feet at 13, 10 feet at 16—and, more important, never flinched, never blinked, never stepped one spike's worth off line. After 156 players and 72 holes, only one man had played Shinnecock Hills under par, Floyd: 75-68-70-66, for a 279. Whether the man is 23 or 43, Raymond Floyd cannot be folded, stapled or mutilated.

"I know I'm in a young man's game," Floyd said. "I don't consider myself old. I'm old, but I don't feel old. I can play with the young guys."

That he has proved. He has now won 20 tournaments, four majors, and lacks only the British Open for a career slam. And he may just be warming up. "What Jack did at the Masters was one of the most thrilling things I've ever seen," he said. "And I hope my winning the Open will help people recognize us. Hey, we've been around.... I was rookie of the year in 1963 and now, 23 years later, I've won again."

And how long can Floyd go on winning? 2001? His caddie, Seymour Johnson, has it figured: "Ray's the type of player, he don't know when he's past his prime."

Until he learns, until he and Trevino and Nicklaus and the rest of the Dorian Gray foursomes get it through their thick, graying skulls that they're supposed to be rocking on a porch somewhere knitting head covers. Until then we are stuck with nothing to do but sit back and marvel at their miracles, ponder the youthful powers of places like Augusta and Shinnecock and wonder if perhaps Jay Gatsby, another guy who made a splash on Long Island, didn't know more about golf than he let on....

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.