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YOUNG JACK THE MIGHTY MASTER
Alfred Wright
April 15, 1963
The old men challenged sharply at Augusta but, in the end, strength and youth conquered as big Jack Nicklaus used his huge drives and near-flawless tactics to become the youngest Masters champion ever. Only one stroke behind Nicklaus was Champagne Tony Lema, a newcomer to the Masters and a bubbly threat to pro golf's best
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April 15, 1963

Young Jack The Mighty Master

The old men challenged sharply at Augusta but, in the end, strength and youth conquered as big Jack Nicklaus used his huge drives and near-flawless tactics to become the youngest Masters champion ever. Only one stroke behind Nicklaus was Champagne Tony Lema, a newcomer to the Masters and a bubbly threat to pro golf's best

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AN IMPERTINENT SPEEDUP IN THE CYCLES OF GOLF

Thanks to an early Georgia springtime, the Augusta National golf course was at its pink-and-white loveliest last week, with the azaleas and dogwood gaily blooming. It seemed a most inappropriate place to use a bludgeon, yet that is what big, smart Jack Nicklaus did as he became, at 23, the youngest golfer ever to win the most cherished tournament of them all. The blows that made the Masters his were struck on Friday when he shot a 66 that has to rank as one of the finest single rounds ever played at Augusta National. It put the course at his feet and the tournament in his palm, and gave him the edge he needed to coolly survive the last-round histrionics which have become as much a part of the Masters championship as Bobby Jones and the green coats given to the winners. After that 66, nobody really thought Jack Nicklaus could lose the Masters, and that includes Nicklaus himself.

Now he has won, and it seems the cycles of golf are moving ever more rapidly. As the eras have succeeded one another—from Jones and Hagen to Nelson to Hogan and Snead to Palmer—each has followed the next more closely. With his Masters win, Nicklaus apparently has resolved to start a new era before that of Palmer (and to a lesser extent, Player) has even begun to ebb. If you did that in show business, they would murder you for stepping on the other fellow's lines. But Jack may get away with it.

For a few minutes on the last day, however, it looked as if Nicklaus was not going to get away with anything, least of all the Masters championship. It was a time of testing, and a time of rare excitement, and it began as Nicklaus stepped to the 10th tee at 3:30 p.m. He had just made the turn in 37, losing half of the two-stroke advantage over par he had held when the day began. By that time Sam Snead, who was playing the 13th hole, was trailing Jack by only a stroke, having had an excellent first nine of 35. Gary Player, who was on the 14th hole and playing better than anyone else in contention, was tied with Snead. So was Tony Lema, who was on the 11th fairway, a couple of twosomes in front of Nicklaus. And steady, phlegmatic Julius Boros, Nicklaus' playing partner for the day, was casually swinging along only two strokes behind Jack—or one over par for the tournament.

For the next hour and more, the respective positions of these five players were scrambled and rescrambled so rapidly that one might have thought the scoreboards around the course were being operated by the dealer in a five-card monte game. The first important change came after Lema got a bogey 5 on the 11th hole, his first major lapse of the afternoon. He hit his second shot fat, barely reaching the front edge of the long green, and it took him three putts to get down from a good 100 feet away. Shortly thereafter Snead sank a dizzily winding 35-foot putt at the treacherous 14th green to go one under par. So at 3:50 in the afternoon, the five contenders stood:

Nicklaus, on 12—one under
Snead, on 15—one under
Player, on 15—even
Boros, on 12—one over
Lema, on 13—one over.

Now it was Player's turn to arouse the enormous galleries that had rushed to the far southwestern corner of the course where most of the action was in progress. Gary's drive was too short on the 520-yard 15th to risk trying to carry the pond in front of the green with his second, although there was hardly a breath of wind. Instead he hit a safe shot short of the water with an iron. Then he pitched his third just 15 feet from the pin and sank the putt for a birdie. The victory that had seemed so remote to him throughout the tournament suddenly appeared within reach, and Gary did a little dance on the green, waved his white cap in the air and replaced it at a cockeyed angle.

Snead, following in the next twosome, hit a good drive and then carried the pond with as hard a three-wood as he could muster, leaving his ball eight feet short of the green and only 30 feet from the hole. He was easily down in two for his birdie, and now was two under par.

Meanwhile, Nicklaus was having his miseries on 12, a 155-yard hole that involves shooting across a swale and a pond to a narrow green. "Just about that time, Snead had birdied a couple of holes in a row and the crowd was cheering. It probably bothered me," Nicklaus said later. "I came off a seven-iron a little and hit it into the trap in front of the green."

He hit his shot out of the wet bunker well across the green, and his third shot was still eight feet from the hole. "I knew I'd better not miss that putt," he said. "Sinking it made a tremendous amount of difference." Still, the bogey dropped him to even par, while Boros was getting his birdie 2 and Lema was sinking a putt for a birdie 4 on 13. So at 4 o'clock they stood:

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