To make the first round less frightening, the tees were placed forward and the pins were placed in the fat part of the greens. Sixteen players came in under 70, eight more with one-under-par 70s.
"Well, we made it easy." said Herb Wimberley. "Now we'll toughen it a little." Back went the tees, to the rear of the greens went the pins. Up went the scores. Up and up and up, and then, splash—splash. "Darn that old water anyway," said Dave Williams.
Across the way, on the first tee, they were already handing out the huge trophy that Williams has carted home so often, and Buster Bishop was saying thank you and, boy. was he hungry. For breakfast, the 126-pound Florida coach had settled for a cup of coffee; lunch was the end of a stubby yellow pencil. "I'm a highly emotional person," he said laughing. "During a tournament I eat very little, sleep even less. But I never sleep much anyway. Always up at dawn. Just automatically. Don't have an alarm clock, won't wear a wristwatch. Don't like them. They worry me."
He held out his trophy at arm's length and admired it. "Isn't it a beauty?" he said. "But I knew we were going to win it. Weren't afraid of Houston. I got on a radio program this morning and told the world we were going to win. That my boys weren't afraid of Houston. Confidence. That's what we had, confidence. All the confidence in the world."
Labron Harris came shuffling from the crowd and shook Bishop's hand. "Say, coach," said Harris, "how many of your boys are you going to lose this year?"
"None," said Bishop. "Four juniors and a sophomore."
"Oh," said Harris. "Well, I guess you won't be hurting until the year after next. Well, I'll see you."
"Yes, you will," said Buster Bishop. And so will everyone else.