British Open Preview

Seve's Story

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By Jaime Diaz

Photos By Erin Patrice O'Brien

July 2010

Seve Ballesteros' home in Pedrena, Spain, is built on a promontory above the beach where as a boy he hit pebbles with a wood-shafted 3-iron, and it's only a few hundred yards from the converted farmhouse where he was born. It's a three-story medley of tasteful masonry, earth-toned stucco and dark wood, understated in every way. Except one.

A silhouette in weathered bronze of the golfer reacting to his winning putt at the 1984 British Open at St. Andrews is mounted on the front door.

The depiction is often referred to by Ballesteros' inner circle as El Momento, and he calls it "the greatest moment of my career." It serves as his business logo, appearing on all manner of products, and Ballesteros even has it tattooed on his left forearm. But after the cruel blows he has endured the past several years, it has become a haunting symbol of a pinnacle too brief and too long past.

The combination of magic and misfortune is why Ballesteros' anticipated return to the Old Course at this year's British Open will prompt the warmest display of mass public affection any golfer has ever received. Engaged in a battle with brain cancer, Ballesteros says he will play in the four-hole Open Champions' Challenge the day before the tournament starts. Given his illness, his standing as the most beloved European golfer ever among British fans and that the first tee at the Old Course is the game's most iconic stage, the announcement of his name and his opening tee shot will be golf's version of Muhammad Ali lighting the Olympic torch at the 1996 Summer Games.

Like Ali, Ballesteros, 53, has been physically diminished. Doctors discovered a malignant tumor the size of two golf balls above his right temple after he fainted at the Madrid airport on Oct. 5, 2008. Over 11 days, he would undergo three complicated surgeries totaling more than 20 hours to remove as much of the tumor as possible. After 22 days in intensive care and 72 days in the hospital, Ballesteros emerged with an unsettling diagonal scar where the main incision had been made. Once back home, he embarked on 12 treatments of chemotherapy, followed by two months of radiation late last year.

Although still too fatigued in late April from the after effects of the radiation to play golf, Ballesteros agreed to allow Golf Digest to come to Spain to discuss his recovery and his life. We met in the foyer of his home, and although his torso has lost some of its sturdiness and his features some of their expressiveness, his innate charisma still allows him to cut a noble figure.

"Hola," he says, his voice unchanged. "Many years since you've been here."

It was a reference to a visit I made in 1990, when after initially annoying Ballesteros by appearing unannounced at the Royal Golf Club of Pedrena, he graciously agreed to an impromptu interview. "This house wasn't built yet. A lot of things are different."

Ballesteros at St. Andrews, 1984: Phil Sheldon/Golf Picture Library

It was indeed a whole other time. When Ballesteros won at St. Andrews he was 27 years old, and it was his fourth major championship, putting him on an early trajectory no player other than Tiger Woods has equaled since.

In Ballesteros' victory at the Old Course, he had taken the top spot in the game from Tom Watson, who had succeeded Jack Nicklaus. Ballesteros seemed well on his way to establishing his own era.

He had wondrous tools, combining the physical talents of power, shotmaking ability and a genius short game with the mental strengths of ultra-fierce competitiveness and a keen "golfing mind."

But what made Ballesteros truly special was an ability to connect with spectators. Part of it was his gift for improvising some of the most improbable recovery shots in the history of the game. "He was to the short game what Hogan was to ball-striking," says Hank Haney. Another element was the pure passion with which Seve performed. That was never more evident than in his ultimate "moment" on the final green in 1984. When the 15-foot birdie putt barely crawled into the high side of the hole, Ballesteros began a series of right-hand thrusts into the sky that also served as salutes to the cheering multitudes packed in the grandstands and straining to watch from the balconies of the Auld Grey Toon.

"I loved the expressive way he played, like Arnold Palmer," says Ben Crenshaw. "When he did well, he showed it in a beautiful, proud way. When he failed, he did it with so much heart that people would feel for him. When he won at St. Andrews, that's one of the great reactions in the history of the game."

Somehow, the moment didn't prove to be a springboard. Ballesteros won only one more major, the 1988 British Open, finishing with three Opens and two Masters. At first gradually, and then very quickly as the condition of his lower back deteriorated, he lost the length and especially accuracy in his long game. Even as his wedge play and putting remained in the all-time category, he didn't have enough game to get in contention with any regularity, and he won his final official tournament in 1995. He played on for another mostly desultory dozen years, and although he ended up with more than 90 professional victories around the world, a record 50 on the European tour and almost single-handedly elevated the Ryder Cup into one of golf's premier events, his career leaves the feeling of loss.