Jack Niklaus - "The Human Side Of Golf"

Jack Nicklaus reflects on his life and times as the world's greatest golfer

How does Jack Nicklaus regard his own achievements? Our player of the Century revealed all in a conversation with GOLF Magazine Editor George Peper.

GOLF: You’ve won 20 major championships. We won’t ask you to pick out the one that means the most—but how about choosing the top three?

NICKLAUS: The first would be my first U.S. Amateur at The Broadmoor in 1959. Second was the U.S. Open in 1962, because of the fashion in which I won it [he beat Arnold Palmer in an 18-hole playoff at Oakmont for his first professional victory]. Setting the Masters record [271] in ’65 was an unbelievable thrill, but then, so was winning the British Open at St. Andrews.

GOLF: 1970 or 1978?

NICKLAUS: Both of them. Geez, there have been so many thrills. But if I had to pick three, they’d be the Open in ’62, the U.S. Open at Baltusrol in ’80 and The Masters in ‘86

GOLF: There were a few disappointments as well. Can you think of three low points to go with the high ones?

NICKLAUS: No, but I can think of two. The first was in the 1972 British Open. I went to Muirfield with the first two legs of the Grand Slam in my pocket, and after 69 holes I still had a good chance to win the third leg. I was in control of my own destiny over those last three holes, but instead of finishing par-birdie-par as I had when I won there in 1966, I finished bogey-par-par and lost to [Lee] Trevino by a stroke. The other big disappointment was losing to [Tom] Watson’s chip-in at Pebble Beach in the ’82 U.S. Open.

GOLF: What about 1977?

NICKLAUS: You mean Turnberry?

GOLF: Yes, and Augusta, too. [Watson edged him at both]

NICKLAUS: Yes, but those victories wouldn’t have meant anything in those particular years. At Muirfield in ’72, I was trying to win the Slam. In fact if I had won there, I would have held all four majors at the same time, because I’d won the PGA Championship in 1971. And at Pebble I was going for a record fifth Open and really thought I’d won it. When Tom hit his tee shot into the rough on 17, I felt as if I was holding the trophy.

GOLF: Is there a single shot you’d like to have over again—a career mulligan?

NICKLAUS: A couple of drives stand out. One goes back 20 years, to the 1968 British Open at Carnoustie. In the final round, I knocked my tee shot on the sixth hole out of bounds and ended up finishing second [by two stokes] to Gary Player. The other came last year at Augusta. On the 10th tee in the final round I turned to Jackie [Nicklaus’ son and frequent caddie] and said, “We’re gonna do it again.” I had shot a 34 on the front side and was four stokes off the lead—a year earlier I had been six back at the turn. I really thought I was going to pull off a seventh Masters. But instead I made one of the worst swings of my life and hooked the ball way left. I made six, and the charge was over. I’d love to have that swing back.

GOLF: What about your last shot to the 72nd green of The Masters in 1977 when Watson won by two strokes? You hit it really fat. Did the famous Nicklaus concentration collapse?

NICKLAUS: Yes, it did. I lost my composure. First, I was between a 6- and a 7-iron and decided to play the 6-iron behind the hole. Then came this roar up from the 17th green where Watson had made a birdie. After that I just couldn’t reprogram myself. I should have taken the 7 and just hit it hard instead of trying to play a “shot.”

GOLF: Wasn’t that the same mistake Greg Norman made in ’86 when you won? He said he should have nailed a 5-iron into the heart of the green instead of trying to feather a high 4-iron next to the hole.

NICKLAUS: Yes, you don’t feather shots on the last hole of a major championship. [Norman missed the green and bogeyed, finishing a stroke behind Nicklaus.]

GOLF: If the gods of golf could give you one more victory, where would it be? Five Opens would give you more than any player. So would six PGAs, and a fourth British Open would give you four cycles of the majors.

NICKLAUS: I’d want that fifth Open. It’s interesting that of all the major tournaments I’ve played in, I’ve had fewer chances to win the Open than any other. I’ve won The Masters six times but have been around the lead another half dozen times or more. At the British, I’ve won three but had seven seconds. At the PGA, I’ve won five times but been second a couple of times. At the U.S. Open, except for one or two occasions, I’ve either won it or been out of contention.

GOLF: Let’s talk about Jack Nicklaus in contention. The guys on the Tour seem to agree that as good as Watson was a few years ago and Norman and Ballesteros are today, none of them will ever have your “Intimidation factor.” When you were in the hunt, you struck fear in the hearts of the tournament leaders. As J.C. Snead once put it, “when you go head to head against Nicklaus, he knows he’s going to beat you, you know he’s going to beat you, and he knows you know he’s going to beat you.”

NICKLAUS: (laughing): Yes, I used to know that, and I’d love to know it again! I knew, coming down the stretch, that the odds were way in my favor of winning a golf tournament. I knew that if I kept the pressure on and didn’t do anything stupid I would probably win.

GOLF: That’s a pretty strong statement.

NICKLAUS: Yes, but there was absolutely no question in my mind. I knew exactly how intimidating I was, and I’ve got to tell you, it was a tremendous advantage. I knew that many of the other players had the physical skill I had, but I also knew that few of them had the mental skills to use that physical skill properly. That knowledge gave me the confidence that I would not lose a tournament myself. Someone might come up and beat me as Watson did a couple of times, but I would not lose it. Most players give tournaments away. And I always knew that when that happened, I’d be around, ready to accept the gift.

GOLF: But you also went out and won a few.

NICKLAUS: Yes, but in general, I did the winning in the early part of the round. I shoot a few birdies, make 32 or 31 on the front nine, and then the others would get scared or impatient. They’d fail to make a move on me, and I’d walk through the back nine. The only big exceptions were Augusta in ’86 and Baltusrol [the U.S. Open] in ’67. [Each time, Nicklaus shot 30 on his final nine.]

GOLF: Do you still prepare as thoroughly for the majors as you used to?

NICKLAUS: Yes and no. A week or two before those tournaments I still practice full bore and try to hone my game into shape. The difference is that now I don’t play in more than one or two events prior to Augusta or prior to a U.S. Open or PGA or British. That tends to leave me a little flat, a little short on competitive experience.

GOLF: You’ve said you’ll play a bit on the Senior PGA Tour. Any goals there? Did you know, for instance, that if you win the U.S. Senior Open you’ll join Palmer as the only player to win the Amateur, the Open, and the Senior Open.

NICKLAUS: No, I haven’t given it a thought. I have absolutely no goals on the Senior Tour. The Senior Tour is a good concept although frankly I’m not astounded at its continued success. It gives a lot of guys an opportunity to extend their careers. But personally, on the few occasions I will play the Senior Tour, I’ll be a ceremonial golfer, much as I am today. I have no goals as Trevino does to break a bunch of records.

GOLF: Does that mean you’ll grind less, take the competition less seriously, maybe loosen up and work the crowds as much as the course?

NICKLAUS: I doubt it. I’m deadly serious even when I play tennis against my kids. I want to beat their brains out. Whether it’s pool or Ping Pong, I can’t stand to have my kids beat me. Especially Ping Pong! And when they beat me, they just needle the devil out of me. That’s fine. I’d rather have that than let them win a shallow victory. As long as I give it my best effort, I have no problem being beaten, whether by my kids at Ping Pong or Watson at Turnberry. When I play the Senior Tour, I’ll play to win.

GOLF: One thing that aggravates most senior players is a loss of putting nerves. At age 46, have you ever yipped a putt?

NICKLAUS: That depends on what you mean by “yipped.” I’ve missed putts where the putter seemed to go off in my hands, but I don’t think those were the results of nerves. For the most part, my nerves have lasted pretty well. When I miss a short one, it’s usually with a calm, smooth, crummy stroke!

GOLF: You’ll meet up again with some old friends—old rivals—on the Senior Tour, probably some you’ve always enjoyed playing with. Who would make up your ideal foursome? But let’s not confine it to the Seniors. Which three players in the history of the game would make up your dream foursome?

NICKLAUS: I’m going to pick two guys because I’ve never played with them. Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen. Then I’d add Ben Hogan because I’d want him as my partner.

GOLF: Did you get to play much golf with Hogan?

NICKLAUS: The first time I played with him was at Cherry Hills, in 1960, where we went 36 holes together in the last two rounds of the U.S. Open. Thereafter, at every Masters or Open Ben played, he sought me out for a game. I always thought that was a nice compliment.

GOLF: Do you still think he’s the finest, most consistent ball striker, you’ve ever seen?

NICKLAUS: Yes, although I’d rank Trevino next to him. And the best single ball-striking exhibition I’ve ever seen was by Byron Nelson. He gave me a clinic at the 1954 U.S. Junior Championship in Los Angeles. There was a new irrigation system on the fairway where he was hitting, and I’ll never forget sitting with the other kids and watching shot after shot of his come down smack on the pipeline. It was incredible.

GOLF: You once said you agree with Jones, who said that he never became a truly complete player until he understood his golf swing inside-out. Do you still feel that way?

NICKLAUS: Absolutely, it’s the one enormous key, the edge.

GOLF: How many guys on the current PGA Tour do you think know their swings in that way?

NICKALUS: Very few

GOLF: A handful?

NICKLAUS: If that.

GOLF: Who are they? Is Mac O’Grady one?

NICKLAUS: No. If Mac understood his swing that well, he’d win everything. Part of it is knowing when you play, how to correct the mistakes you’re making and not let the round get away from you. A big part of managing a golf course is managing your swing on the course. A lot of guys can go out and hit a golf ball, but they have no idea how to manage what they do with the ball. I’ve won as many golf tournaments hitting the ball badly as I have hitting the ball well. And in a way I’m more proud of the good rounds I’ve played while hitting the ball badly than of the great rounds while hitting the ball well. I understand my swing well enough to get myself through a tournament and win it. I’ve made it work.

GOLF: So which of today’s guys know their swings?

NICKALUS: Well, I think Raymond Floyd understands his swing very well. I think Trevino knows his swing. Tom Kit and Norman understand their swings pretty well.

GOLF: What about Watson?

NICKLAUS: No, I think Tom is still learning. Tom can be better than he is, and I don’t think he is remotely through playing the game of golf. Watson has never been a ball-striker like a Trevino or a Hogan. His success was built on determination, a great short game and striking the ball well when he needed to down the stretch.

GOLF: Why do so few players have your swing knowledge? Are you that much smarter? Or harder working? Luckier?

NICKLAUS: It’s a bit of luck, I guess. In Jack Grout, I had a great teacher from the beginning, and he taught me how to understand the swing. Beyond that, reaching an understanding of the golf swing seems to be something that takes time. I was fortunate to get a solid head start.

GOLF: Over 30 years, along with your victories on the course, you won an intangible victory: You won over the galleries and fans. In a way, that came less easily than did the trophies.

NICKLAUS: Well, it took more time. I think in my case winning fans came as a result of winning tournaments. Certainly, I didn’t have too many supporters when I came on Tour. I didn’t look like an athlete, I was overweight, had a crew cut, baggy clothes and on top of that I didn’t smile much. I was very serious about my game, literally and figuratively the heavy.

GOLF: And you had a tough act to follow in Palmer.

NICKLAUS: I had a very tough act to follow. Arnold was dashing, charismatic—and still is. But to be honest, I paid zero attention to such things. All I wanted to do was win golf tournaments.

GOLF: You didn’t have any nights when you came home to your wife Barbara and said, “Gee, I wish the galleries liked me better?”

NICKLAUS: Never. We never discussed it. I think both Barbara and I knew that, for better or worse, I was myself. I couldn’t try to be a Palmer. I had to be Nicklaus. If that came off as cocky and dour-faced, we knew it would just have to take time before people came around and accepted me for what I was.

GOLF: What about the notion that you made a conscious attempt to change your image—to slim down and update your hairdo for greater appeal?

NICKLAUS: I read that all the time, and this is as good an opportunity as any to clear that up. During the mid-1960s I paid a visit to my doctor and asked him about my weight, and you know what he said? “Don’t worry about it. You’re in great shape and you have nothing to be concerned about except this: As some point in your life, you’re going to get tired. When this happens, you’ll know it’s time to lose weight.” Well, I went along for another few years, and then after the 1969 Ryder Cup, flying back from Britain on the plane, I turned to Barbara and said, “For the first time in my life, I feel tired from playing the game.” Then I said, “When we get home, I’m going on a diet.” And that was that. Three weeks later I’d lost my weight.

GOLF: And the hairstyle?

NICKLAUS: Hairstyles change. No one wears their hair the way I did back then—not in a crewcut, not in that big slicked-back wave I sported. I changed with the times, not to improve my image.

GOLF: You still tend to look heavier some weeks than others, and I have this hunch that at any given moment, you’d like nothing better than to pig out, eat a pizza or a half gallon of ice cream.

NICKLAUS: You’ve got that right! The fact is, I diet every day of my life. I have to work at it. But I diet so I can pig out. Barbara laughs at me because of my eating habits. For most of the week I’ll be real careful, then in a space of 48 hours I’ll eat six pieces of cake and, as you say, a half gallon of ice cream. The next day I’ll feel fat, go back to being a good boy for a few more days and go through the splurge again after that. If I were to let myself go all the time, I’d weigh 220-plus as I did in the old days. If I watched myself all the time, I’d be back down to 170 pounds where I was about three years ago, when I was so skinny I was hardly there. So this diet-splurge-diet-splurge routine, humorous as it seems to my wife, keeps me happy.

GOLF: You’ve become a model to golfers all over the world. People imitate your swing, your putting style, your mannerisms. With that in mind, do you ever wish you were a faster player?

NICKLAUS: I was never taught to play fast. I’ll admit I was faster as a kid than I am today. But I think I’m faster now than I was a few years ago. I get really slow for two reasons: When I’m not sure of myself or when I’m so engrossed in a competition that I’m not aware of the pace. Otherwise, I try to pick myself up, because I think it’s better for the game to be played faster.

GOLF: Your concentration is legendary. Has your utter concentration ever reached that point where, in effect, you went beyond concentration and into a zone where you're playing, as Johnny Miller has said of himself, “out of your mind”?

NICKLAUS: On those two back nines of 30, at Augusta in ’86 and Baltusrol in ’67, I had such confidence that I felt I could just draw it back and all of a sudden—bam!—the ball was on the target. But it wasn’t as if I went into a trance. I just got going with a couple of birdies, saw a light at the end of the tunnel and went after that light.

GOLF: You were never on automatic pilot?

NICKLAUS: No, I’m not foggy enough for that. I was always in full control.

GOLF: Arnie brought golf to the masses, Jones was the humble gentleman and Hogan inspired the work ethic. Each left a sort of legacy beyond his accomplishments. What do you see as your legacy?

NICKLAUS: I can’t pick out a word or two as you have for those guys. I’d guess I might be proudest of my longevity, my ability to adapt over time. There were a lot of good players before me who might have been able to extend their careers a bit, had they kept in shape. I guess that apart from Sam Snead, I’ve hung on about the best of the top players.

GOLF: All right, that gets us to the question. Jack, no athlete has dominated a sport for a longer period of time or with greater certainty than you have the game of golf. Muhammad Ali in boxing might be the only one who came close. Have you decided in your own mind that you are the best golfer ever to walk the earth? Be honest, now.

NICKLAUS: (long pause): There have been better ball strikers than I. There might have been guys who were tougher competitors than I. There might have been guys who were more determined or better putters. But I frankly don’t think that any of them has been able to put all that together and keep it together better than I have.

GOLF: That’s pretty honest.

NICKLAUS: What do you mean pretty honest? That was very honest! Okay, you want it more definitive? Ultimately do I believe that I’m the best player? Let me say this. I believe it as closely as someone can believe it without actually saying it, because I don’t think I could ever say it.

GOLF: That’s close enough.

courtesy of www.golf.com

Nick Faldo - "The Human Side Of Golf"

When Nick Faldo walked the legendary courses where he evidenced his brilliance, his head down in deep concentration, he was criticized for being a cold fish. When he practiced relentlessly on the range, seeking perfection, he was tabbed a selfish loner. When he won with brilliant golf and stunning emotional control, he was told he had no feeling for his fellow man.

That's not the Nick Faldo I know, and now that he is 45 and no longer grinding to be number one, the rest of the world is seeing a more relaxed Faldo, too. When I arrived for our interview at the Faldo Golf Institute by Marriott in Orlando, Florida, Nick was happily mugging for the camera and cooperating with the photographer. When I returned home afterward, I found that Nick had called, leaving a message to say thanks and to wish me a happy weekend. Typical Faldo.

How successfully has the new, funny, affectionate, warm Nick Faldo been playing out?

It's always been in me. It's a bit more in evidence lately. I was a serious golfer, obviously, and then the last five or six years I've been through serious ups and downs. When I met Valerie [his wife of two years] the transformation began, and I'm still learning to unwind. Our baby is due in August and our life together is incredible. I know what stage I'm at in my career, what my playing capabilities are. I have to let go of the level golfer I was a little but to be happy with what I've got.

Is there anything you're going to do differently this go-around as a husband and father?

Totally. It is a massive and difficult job handling a woman. When they say, "no," do they really mean no? When they say, "yes," what kind of yes is it? And when they ask a question, you can't just answer it. You have to work out in a split second what kind of answer they want.

I'm getting better at it thanks to a fantastic guy, Kjell Enhager, who has become one of my truest and closest friends. He is a sports and corporate psychologist who has been working with me on the golf course for almost four years. We go off for a session on golf and the first half is really about how to handle the wives. It's much more complicated and exhausting than the golf. It's reassuring to see that I'm not the only guy who is lost sometimes about human and marital relationships. The bottom line is that I care for her so much and I just want to make sure I do everything I can to make her happy.

What do you want to try to do differently as a dad?

Well, that has been a tough one. Unfortunately, being a professional golfer is not the best career if you want to spend a lot of time at home with your children. You have to be away from them for what sometimes seems like an eternity. But it's your job.

So, yes, I missed an awful lot of things with my first three children. Then going through a divorce [from his second wife, Gill] didn't help at all. They grow up so fast. Now I have to fit into their busy schedule. But when I spend time with them, they get absolute priority. I'll do what any other dad does: the school runs, the rugby or cricket matches, the school plays. If I have to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning to work on my grips in order to be there for them at 7 o'clock, I'll do it.

With our new baby, everything will be easier. My whole life is changing now. I have a better balance between golf, business and family life.

I lived in London when Faldo was starting out and remember well the treatment he received from a cruel and unfair press corps. "El Foldo" they called him. They openly rooted against him.

The British press targeted you in your early days. It was particularly ugly.

Right. "How can we get the blood to drip out onto the paper?" Now they want to do lifestyle pieces. Apparently they have changed, which is great for me and for the good of civilization.

Tell me the impetus for overhauling your swing in the mid-1980's.

In 1983, I was tied for the lead in the British Open and I couldn't handle it. The next spring I was right there at Augusta playing the last group with [Ben] Crenshaw and I saw what it takes to win a major. Then I won at Hilton Head and had an up-and-down season, but it hit me at the end of 1984. That little voice said, "You ain't got it, mate."

I saw David Leadbetter in Sun City [South Africa] and briefly spoke to him. I said, "What do you think?" He said, "Well this is causing this and that is causing that." So I realized there was a chain reaction of things that needed to be worked on. I thought about it while I really struggled in early 1985. We met again at Muirfield Village [at the Memorial]. I said I was ready. That started that little transformation of beating a million balls in two years or whatever.

But it wasn't a little thing. It was the biggest golf decision you have made. You put a lot of trust in this guy.

Exactly. I was his guinea pig. He had new theories, which he has changed over the years. So that beginning was a massive experiment. But I put the work in and so, of course, did David.

Why did you decide to trust him?

The way he explained it to me. A lot of people, I call Band-Aid teachers. I realized it was more than that. I wanted to get to the root of it and fix it properly. He communicated well. That was very important. It was right to trust him. We both became number one at what we do.

What couldn't you handle at Birkdale in 1983?

My swing just didn't stand up to the pressure of playing on Sunday afternoon, when I needed it.

Was there a shot or a series of things that told you there were real problems?

It was a series of things. You can tell by playing against Tom Watson how you measure up. My swing was just unreliable—my assets were my hands and my tempo. I am a tall guy and so [I had] a lot of moving parts because the arms and legs didn't always want to work together. I survived on timing. It wasn't repetitive enough. It wasn't multiple-major-championship material.

You won the 1987 British Open after your overhaul. What is the strongest memory of winning your first major?

Waiting at 18 after I finished to see if I've won or lost or have to go to a playoff. The only way I can describe the sensation is when you fortunately just missed having a car accident and you get that whole flood of everything through your body. I couldn't watch the TV. I sat with my head literally between my knees. I just listened. I heard [announcer] Peter Alliss say that the next 15 seconds were going to change on of these guys' lives. We know what happened. [Faldo won when Paul Azinger bogeyed the 18th.] My life certainly changed.

It's funny that a number of really good players have not played their best when paired with you. Scott Hoch's missed putt in the 1989 Masters playoff. Ray Floyd hitting into the water in The Masters playoff in 1990. Greg Norman shooting 78 in 1996 in the final round. Are you that scary?

I think I must be, yeah. I'm sure it's the same as Jack Nicklaus. The number one ability Jack had was that he played the same game Sunday afternoon. When the pressure mounts, you continue playing the same game. So the guy you're playing with, he must be thinking, "This guy is all right. We know he can handle it. So I can't make a mistake." As soon as you start thinking about the other player, it has affected you.

And even though inside I was absolutely churning, I was still able to keep producing on Sunday afternoon. That's what I did best and Jack did best and very few others were able to do it.

How did you feel playing with Jack in the last round of the 1990 Masters, considering that he influenced you to take up golf as a 14-year-old and he was, at the time, the only one to win back-to-back Masters, as you were trying to do that year?

I found it a great omen. There I am trying to equal a record, and he's right there. It's quite funny how I get the reputation for not talking to guys on the courses, but I wasn't the only one. On that occasion, Jack, who is the gentleman of gentleman, was so focused trying to win that he didn't say boo to me until the 12th hole.

The pressure of the 12th is enormous. I said to him, "God, I'm glad we don't play this hole every day of the week." And he said, "I've been playing it for 30 years." Yes, to win there was very special. I actually asked that Jack present the jacket to me. But they said, "No, it will have to be the chairman."

How were you able to play your best on Sunday afternoons?

It's focus. Then it becomes mental. If I trusted my swing, it gave me my mental strength. I have always had the strength to be very powerful in my visualization and in my commitment.

In two of your three Masters victories, 1989 and 1996, you came from 5 and 6 back in the final round. And I can't remember a better final round in the last 10 years than your 67 in 1996. Don't people realize you're just a birdie machine?

The last round is the time to make things happen. For any great player in any sport, you have this ability for a period in your career when you can make things happen. I had that for a while. Winners win and losers find a way to give it away.

What do you do best now?

Walking. Even at 45 I'm a lovely mover. No, I'm actually doing a lot of things very well. A lot of things have improved the last couple years. I said to myself: "OK, if we're going to keep playing out the end of this career, let's really pick out the best stuff from 10 years ago and just do it." So I changed my attitude about putting.

I used to see you on the practice green with rulers and all sorts of crazy training aids.

You need the technical side. You need the trust in your stoke. Once you have the trust you have to work on pace and reading greens. If I have something that is working, I'm not going to fiddle so much. It's a bit late to start going off into the wilderness and start finding something new.

It's the same with my swing. I can't beat as many balls, so I've just got to be happy with what I've got and keep doing it.

You've been number one. What are your thoughts on Tiger Woods, the new number one?

Well, he is phenomenal. I think he has got the whole Tour beat because he has led what, 30 tournaments after three rounds and won 28 of them. In majors, it's 8 for 8. So, he sent the message and everybody is consciously or subconsciously talking themselves out of it. "Well, he's never blown one, so how can the rest of us have a chance?"

What did you think when Tiger revamped his swing after winning the 1997 Masts by 12 shots?

He's really helped me because when I used to go through all my swing changes, they all used to say, "What and idiot. What is he thinking?" Then Tiger does that and they say, "Maybe Faldo was right." That's why I like Tiger.

Ben Hogan used to say he couldn't concentrate on his game and have a personality and talk to the crowd. Aren't you like that, too?

Exactly. I felt I was better if I was cocooned. Totally focused. I hadn't learned to switch on and off. Now, Kjell tells me, "I could have taught you that." You have a trigger to switch back on to it. You watch a lot of any of the great athletes-[Bjorn] Borg used to just spin his racket and it reset him. I never learned that in those days.

After the 1996 Masters, you hit a dry spell, winning only once since. What happened?

Well, a lot was happening in my life. I hit the "dark years" and the divorce. You can imagine the emotion of the divorce. You have the children involved, the financial things. Then I hit a run of bad business decisions, counting my chickens before they hatched with the Adams thing [Faldo signed a 10-year agreement with Adams Golf in 1998, but parted with the company two years later when he stopped using its clubs]. I went through more bad management problems [parting with long-time manager John Simpson in 2001]. So it has been an ongoing battle.

It is only now that we really can say that we have a handle on things. It's good to learn from your mistakes. I say to my kids, I said to Matthew [14], "If you've got any problems just ask me because I'll tell you what, son, I've been through it. I've had people betray me-friends of 25 years. I haven't seen everything but, boy, I've seen a lot. Please ask me for an opinion on things, my son."

Among 40-odd international victories, Faldo has nine wins on the PGA Tour, six of those are majors. The other three came at Riviera, Doral and Hilton Head. He's won more Ryder Cup matches than anyone. What player of his generation wouldn't trade records with him?

Do you have any doubt that you're the best player of your generation?

I must admit that my record looks pretty good on paper, and yes, I am very proud of it. But as we all now, golf doesn't work like that. When I was winning majors and ranked world number one, I was "the man." But as soon as you feel you are off your game and you see the other guys winning you sure don't feel like you're the man anymore. In golf once you think you've got it, the golfing gods remind you that really you don't.

And that is precisely the time the press chooses to beat on you and tries to bury you. "The fallen star." "The forgotten hero." All those headlines. Once I said, "I'm terribly sorry guys, but I'm still out here because I enjoy it." Then they did a 180. Then it was, "well look at that. He's 45 now and he's still out there enjoying it. He's still pursuing as hard as before." And somehow they start admiring that perseverance and determination.

If anyone ever says that Greg Norman or Nick Price was the best player of your era, how do you react?

I think the obvious one is you have majors to be counted and you have rankings to review. Greg was the best in the early and mid-1980's, and I beat his record for consecutive weeks at the top of the World Ranking with 81. Price was very good. It was him, Greg and Fred Couples of that period. But hey, I have as many majors [six] as the three of them combined. Ha, ha!

Are you surprised that those guys didn't win more majors?

Yes, because they were great players. I couldn't really answer why. It was a feather in everybody's cap to beat Greg, so everybody chipped in against him. But again, it comes down to playing your best game on Sunday afternoon and very few players in history could do that.

Was Greg your main rival?

Yes. That period of time was Greg, Price, Freddie, but there were a couple of times-1993 at Royal St. George's [won by Norman} and St. Andrews in 1990 {won by Faldo}-when I thought if I beat one man this week Greg Norman, great.

The 1996 Masters wasn't a good example because I was throwing my clubs in the practice round. It was all going wrong and I went to lunch and sat with a friend and he said to me, "Just remember you are Nick Faldo." I still wasn't confident going to the first tee on Thursday. To come off with a 68 in the first round was the breakthrough of the week. On Tuesday I can't hit a shot and on Thursday I'm Nick Faldo again.

Why do you suppose your major record is one of the best ever?

That was my goal. To win major championships. That was what I committed myself to. You're measured by the majors, and I was able to prepare with the intention to win. I'm very, very proud of the 1990 Masters. Defending champion. That wasn't just show up and play. To win the [British] Open in 1990 was an intention. I had missed out in the U.S. Open. I vowed after that I was going to win the British Open.

Then in 1992 it was the same thing [at the British Open] as I went in as the favorite. So, those three I'm very proud of. That is a very different ball game than just going to the majors and saying, "Hmm, things feel pretty good this week. Let's see what happens."

How nice is it to be working with caddie Fanny Sunesson again?

Ah, Fanny. She's like a baby sister, really. She saved me on all sorts of things. She saved my relationship with Valerie.

How so?

Well, without going into details, she convinced Valerie of the sincerity of my feelings for her. She stopped Valerie at a tournament and told her, "I've known Nick for almost a decade now and I've never seen him like this. I can tell that this is the real thing and we must make it happen!" She stepped in when I needed her most.

Tell me about your wine business.

I did the proper tasting, which was great fun. I'm not one of the experts we're relying upon. But I was there. I tasted it. I spat it out. So it's a genuine Faldo selection.

Do you drink?

I enjoy my wine, my whisky, my beers, but I'm pretty disciplined. The last time I was drunk was New Year's Eve 1993. Seriously drunk when you're lying on the floor counting chocolates.

Had a little buzz, Nick?

I made punch. I made red punch and white punch. People tasted the white punch, which was like if you breathed out the wallpaper fell off the wall. Nobody was drinking the red one, either, so I just mixed them. It was like rocket fuel. I enjoy a glass of wine now, but everything is in moderation. I'll have a glass or two.

I have known you for almost 10 years now. You seem the happiest you've ever been, the most comfortable in your own skin.

Exactly, I was a fierce competitor. My regret, if it is a regret, is that I never got the chance to know Greg, Seve, Price and the other guys very well.

Any other regrets?

Wow. A million things. I would love to change relationships with people and girlfriends and the way I've handled business decisions. You do things and later figure out everything could be done differently. But there is no practice round in life.

Tell us about your ex-girlfriend Brenna Cepelak, the University of Arizona player with whom you had a tumultuous relationship.

She was a piece of work.

She smashed the windshield of your Porsche with your 9-iron, then took off.

My mind was so scrambled. Alarm bells were going off around me and I was going, "Hello, can't you hear it. Need a bigger bell." I needed Big Ben to just squash me before I suddenly went, "Oh, is that what's going on?"

How did you and Steve get along?

I have the utmost respect for him and wish we could have been friends—we were fierce competitors and very different mentalities, obviously. Now, is saddens me because he has beaten himself down so hard. I'd love to be able to give him my two pounds' worth. He needs to make a decision now to put his career in a better place, so people respect that period when he was so great. I would advise him to disappear to a tropical island, someplace that he loves. Take the family and coach and friends and psychologist. Have fun with it. Work hard and relax hard as well.

Do you feel like you smelled enough of the flowers along the way?

I'm going to make sure I do smell a lot of life's flowers from now on.

courtesy of www.golf.com

Arnold Palmer - "The Human Side Of Golf"

Can a 43-year-old millionaire, who has been golf's most dazzling superstar, still find fun and fulfillment as an also-ran on the tour?

Arnold Palmer was being asked to take stock of Arnold Palmer at a significant signpost—his first winless year on the PGA tour. Typically, he didn't flinch.

"I think I can still win out there, and I'm not just whistling past the churchyard. I am 43 and I didn't win a tournament in 1972, but I don't think those two factors tie together as neatly as that.

"Now, understand, I realized that a fellow shouldn't expect to do the same things at 43 that he did at, say, 33. But I honestly believe that my problems last year stemmed from a larger combination of things.

"For one, I had trouble with my vision. True, that's a result of the aging process, but in my case it's a little different. Some people become far-sighted as they grow older—that is, unable to clearly see things up close, like the print in a newspaper. And the old gag is that a lot of them don't get glasses until their arms finally are not long enough to extend the paper to the right distance. My problem happens to be near-sightedness—inability to see distance. And this is pretty tough on a golfer.

"To me, wearing glasses is no pleasure, but once I conceded that I simply couldn't properly judge distance without them, I began to experiment. I tried glasses and found them uncomfortable. I switched to contact lenses and they also bothered me. In the meantime, I was playing tournaments without either. At Greensboro in April, I decided to wear the contact lenses and I finally got a couple of scores. In fact, I had a two-shot lead going into the final round, but I messed up a 3-wood for a triple bogey six and lost out by a stroke.

The near-miss at Greensboro did not end the experiment, however. Arnie continued to rotate between the glasses and the contacts—except for the U.S. Open. He felt he knew the Pebble Beach layout so well that he could go at it alone. His second-round of 68 put him in the thick of the fight, but a closing 76 left him in third place.

Toward the end of the schedule, Arnie was beginning to favor the glasses regularly. He wears an oversized frame with wire rims, and the contemporary design does little to detract from his attractive athletic image. Intimates acknowledge, however, that vanity very likely was a key factor in his early reluctance to wear glasses in public.

"I think I'm getting used to them now," he concedes. "They don't seem to disturb my concentration as they once did, and I'm beginning to have more confidence in what I see. And this has even helped my putting—although it surely didn't seem that way in Suhara or in the Disney. I needed a par-four at the final hole to tie in Suhara, but I took three from the edge of the green and lost by a shot. In the Disney I three-putted four times over the last seven holes and missed the cut."

While 1972 was the first time Palmer was completely blanked in his 18 years on the tour, he has suffered other droughts in recent times. He went from September, 1968 until November, 1969 without a victory, but then he won two in a row—the Heritage and the Danny Thomas-Diplomat—before the season ended. In 1970, he failed to register an individual win, although he paired with Jack Nicklaus for the PGA Team Championship. But then he came back with four big ones in 1971 and banked $209,603—his highest single season haul.

With '72 a washout, his winless stretch reached 17 months through last December. Other negative notations on the '72 ledger included failing to make the cut three times, after having been a survivor for 82 consecutive tournaments. His earnings of $84,181 was only the second time in 10 years that he was under $100,000. His last miss was in '65.

"Aside from trying to see what I was doing, and just guessing too often, part of my problem last year was time. I just never seemed to have enough time to work on my game, and that's bad. Competition on the tour is so tough these days that you can't hope to do much out there unless you have all the parts working. But between my business commitments—which pile up pretty high at time—and trying to spend some time with Winnie and our daughters, well, my schedule gets rather hectic. I realize now, though, that I have to practice more if I want to get it going again.

"Actually, I haven't had any trouble hitting the ball, although I haven't been as consistent as I'd like to be. My father [Milfred 'Deke' Palmer, long-time pro at the Latrobe CC, who taught Arnie to play.—Ed.] blames my short game and says it isn't as sharp. I think it's been the putter—but I guess I've been saying that for a long time now.

Palmer watchers take Arnie's putting complaints with a grain of salt. He moaned about his stroke even during his peak years, when he canned them from everywhere and was generally regarded as one of the great all-time putters.

"I've thought about it a good bit, and I've decided that I don't have the 'yips' as some people have suspected. As I said, some of it can be traced to my vision problems, and I'm beginning to get a better feeling on the greens now. Oh, I've fooled around with my stance and stroke, and I've changed blades a good bit, but that's not new for me. What I've been working on lately is getting back to the same movement I had for so long. I think I'm making progress."

Some observers thought Arnie was starting to show a trace of middle-age spread last year, and that this might be contributing to his problems.

"I'm a little bit heavier now, but not that much. I like to be on the lower side of 180, but more recently I've moved to the plus side. I try to watch my weight. In fact, I started playing tennis this year to work a little more exercise into my schedule. Gee, I guess that's heresy to mention tennis, isn't it? I play in fits and starts but I enjoy it. Sometimes I might play for four or five hours at one clip down at Bay Hill [Bay Hill Club and Lodge in Orlando, Fla.—Ed.] and then I won't get on the courts again for a couple of weeks.

"I really don't have any physical problems, except an occasional sore muscle. The difference now is that the soreness might hang on longer. When you're younger, you hardly notice those things. Inasmuch as this will be my 19th year on the tour, I think I've gotten some good mileage out of these bones.

"I can remember back to my early tour days when some fellows didn't think I'd last too long. Nothing physical—they said it was my swing. Some said it was too much of a 'muscle swing' to stand the test of time. One fellow predicted I wouldn't get past 30 out there. Well, it's certainly a lot easier if you have a swing like Sam Snead's, but how many players do? Neither Nicklaus or Trevino have the fluid, classic swing. Hogan didn't, either. None of them has suffered. It's strictly a matter of efficiency—getting the maximum out of what you have.

"I'm not doing anything different out there now—other than not winning. I suppose I should be playing it safer at this stage of the game, since I don't think I'm as sharp getting out of trouble now...I take more bogeys than I should. But this is the way I learned to play and I've enjoyed it this way. I'm not about to change it all now.

"I suppose one of these days I'll have to start thinking about that time when I drop out as a tour regular. But I haven't reached that point yet. I still have a few things I want to do out there, like winning the PGA Championship and another Open or Masters...a few more events on the tour. And I honestly think I can pull it off. I played some of the best golf on my life in 1971, when I was nearing 42. A few putts in the right places last year would have made a big difference."

Since Palmer's business interests have grown to conglamerate proportion in recent years, there are those who feel that Arnie is trapped between the desire to see his numerous investments prosper and the need to play and win the way Arnold Palmer should. The question is, can he do both—even with the help of his jet to get him places in a hurry, and a large staff to handle the day-to-day details?

"I'm trying to spread out my business schedule so it doesn't pile up too much during my tournament commitments. It's a little complex because as time wears on it will be important that I get more and more involved in these businesses. And I look forward to that, too.

"As far as my 1973 playing schedule goes, I'm going to do it a little differently this time. I won't play until I'm satisfied my game is good enough. That may cause me to miss a few events, but that's better than going out there and building up frustration. And, of course, in '73 I'm going to work a little harder on my game, too.

"I feel good about it—especially when I hear some of those people out there in the gallery. Those wonderful people...they're the ones who keep pushing on. They walk with me on good days and on bad days, and they're always urging me on. They send me nice encouraging letters, playing tips, good luck charms, and all that. Why, I guess if I'd never won a purse out there I'd still have to consider myself a rich man just to have them on my side."

Since Arnie has been so totally immersed in golf over a long period, some have wondered whether he'd be content at that day down the road to be a business man involved with his golf equipment company, putting courses, golf schools, etc. Wouldn't he be better suited as a golf commentator on TV or as the Commissioner of Golf, as some have speculated?

"I don't see myself as a full-time broadcaster. I've done some of it and I enjoy it, but I don't think I should try to make a career out of it. As far as the job of Commissioner goes, I think Joe Dey's done a good job and I hope he stays around. But in the years ahead if they thought I might help the game...well, I'd have to think about that. I might be interested."

And how about playing senior golf?

"Oh, come on now, aren't you pushing me down the road a little fast?"

courtesy of www.golf.com