Man Of Iron

The first time Weiskopf saw him was in 1969 at the Heritage Classic in Hilton Head, S.C. "I said to myself, 'Well, I thought Jack Nicklaus was cocky. I thought Jack Nicklaus was arrogant. He couldn't carry Lanny Wadkins's jockstrap.' ...Arrogance? He's the epitome of arrogance. I love him. He exudes arrogance. Just the way he walks around, just the way he cocks his head. That demeanor he has on the golf course. But you've got to have that."

But the problem with arrogance, with perfection, is that when you're not perfect, you have to punish yourself. Wadkins would get frustrated, lose interest in tournaments, lose his composure, back-hand putts. He once told Giles, "I probably kicked away half a million dollars in my career. When I had four or five holes to go and realized there was no way to win the tournament, I'd just lose the desire."

He did not win a tournament in his third full year on the Tour. Or his fourth or fifth. It took almost a year to recover from a gallbladder operation in 1974, and he suffered wrist and back injuries during that time. He was missing so many cuts that guys would come up to him and say, "Lanny, what are you doing here? It's Saturday." Wadkins had something of the look of soured milk.

The cold front finally passed in 1977 when he won the PGA and the World Series of Golf to finish third on the money list. But he staggered through a separation and divorce from his high school sweetheart, Rachel Strong, in 1978. He went on to win bankfuls of money from then on, but that PGA remains his only victory in a major as a pro. How could a guy who has won so often, and at so many levels, not win more majors?

"You gotta understand Lanny," says brother Bobby. "Until about four years ago, he didn't have the patience to win a major. He's going to want to hit a four-wood out of the rough at the U.S. Open no matter what."

Wadkins has achieved the No-Cigar Slam: two seconds in the PGA (to Floyd in 1982 and Larry Nelson in 1987), a second at the U.S. Open (to Floyd in '86), two thirds at the Masters (1990 and '91) and a fourth at the British Open (1984). Throw in the time he three-putted twice in the last five holes to lose the 1985 U.S. Open by two at Oakland Hills, and you have the centerfold of Psychology Today. Strange, an old friend, figures Wadkins has got to get rid of the backhand. "You don't do those things and win major championships," says Strange, a two-time U.S. Open champion who admits he has backhanded a few. "But I don't do it when I'm near the lead."

Since Wadkins turned 40 on Dec. 5, 1989, life has begun anew; he has won $1,237,463 and two tournaments and is learning to forgive himself. He's concentrating on all 72 holes now and, as a result, keeping more of the cash for himself. He has won once this season (the Hawaiian Open in January) and has six other finishes in the Top 10 to rank second in money won with $564,030 to Corey Pavin's $721,898. "Turning 40 slapped me in the face," Wadkins says. "I realized I haven't got forever."

Whether this week's U.S. Open at Hazeltine National Golf Club outside Minneapolis has Wadkins's name on it depends on whether or not Lanny and his putter are speaking to each other. He consistently has been one of the best drivers on the Tour, and the Open begs for that. He has played Hazeltine only once, on National Golf Day in 1980, when he shot 70 and beat Hale Irwin, Fuzzy Zoeller and Graham.

You just know that anybody who wants to win a member-guest as bad as Wadkins does must be positively aching for an Open win. "At this point in my career, you throw me a Masters and an Open, that's something I can tell my grandkids about," he says.

Ah, yes, grandkids. Wadkins eventually might have more of them than he at one time had thought possible. His daughter from his first marriage, Jessica, is 17 now. After his divorce, Lanny married a former TCU homecoming queen, Peni Atwood, and after seven years of trying—not to mention two major operations and two procedures similar to in vitro that Peni went through—they finally had a baby.