Seve

A quarter-century after winning his first Masters, a legendary figure struggles to find peace on and off the course

Jaime Diaz's profile of Seve Ballesteros, including interviews with more than three dozen players and observers who knew Seve, originally appeared in the April 2005 issue of Golf Digest.

By Jaime Diaz

Illustration By Thomas Fluharty

April 2005

Twenty-five years ago, Seve Ballesteros was on his way to victory in the 1980 Masters with a double-digit lead on the final nine, a display of force unmatched until Tiger Woods' domination almost two decades later. Powerful, skillful, graceful, daring, charismatic and fierce, Ballesteros cut a regal figure that to Ben Crenshaw evoked "the golfer. The way you are supposed to play. The way you are supposed to look."

Today, a close look at Ballesteros, who turns 48 on April 9, is more likely to elicit a wince. The Spaniard's once-majestic golf game is gone. He last won 10 years ago, last made the cut in a major in 1996, last played in an official event in 2003. Ballesteros finds himself lost in swing theory, and any comeback is increasingly unlikely because of the fragile condition of his chronically bad back.

The public face -- so proud and invulnerable -- is being sullied as well, causing Ballesteros to withdraw into a silence that his brother Baldomero terms a one-year "sabbatical" with the media. Last September, Ballesteros was involved in an embarrassing physical altercation with a golf official who had given him two slow-play warnings in a 2003 European tour event. In December, it was reported that Ballesteros and his wife of 16 years, Carmen Botin, the daughter of Spain's richest man, are divorcing and Ballesteros has moved out of the Pedrena home he shared with Carmen and their three children.

Ballesteros' 1977 Golf Digest cover story

Three years after this 1977 Golf Digest cover story, Seve won his first Masters.

"I saw him this winter in Spain; we had lunch together,"says countryman Jose Maria Olazabal, who teamed with Ballesteros to create the most formidable Ryder Cup pair of all time. "He told me he was going through really tough times. And now the situation with his marriage. He was trying to figure everything out. But he was very cautious, deciding what to do. I feel sad about what he's going through."

It's a present so disconnected from the past as to seem surreal. Ballesteros will go down in the pantheon, with 87 worldwide victories and five major championships, along with being the galvanizing force in the modern Ryder Cup. Conversely, few who were so good have declined so quickly. Ballesteros' final major victory came at age 31, his final win anywhere at age 37.

What threatens to be forgotten is what an intriguing figure he was. "He was almost childlike in some ways, but extremely complex in others," says David Leadbetter. "Intentionally enigmatic," says journalist Robert Green, a longtime Ballesteros chronicler. Ballesteros' legendary impatience kept him from staying with swing instructors long enough for the lessons to take hold, instead leaving him confused and ultimately helpless with a driver. And extreme competitiveness -- Paul Azinger once called him "the king of gamesmanship" -- cost him good relationships with many peers, particularly Americans he faced in the Ryder Cup.

In retrospect, the most telling comment Ballesteros ever made was ignored when his career was in full flight. "The biggest mistake I ever made was to start playing professional golf when I was still only 16,"he said. "I lost all my growing-up years. I haven't lived a normal life."

And, as his friend Lee Trevino adds, "He didn't adapt well to not being king." With no idea if there will be a Ballesteros renaissance on the Champions Tour when he turns 50 in 2007, it would be a shame if this complex icon were remembered as a cartoon character who bludgeoned tee shots into parts unknown and conjured up sleight-of-hand short-game tricks before leaving the grounds smoldering. He was much more. In interviews with three dozen players and observers leading up to this bittersweet anniversary at Augusta National, Ballesteros is remembered as a prodigy, a champion and a mystery.

A YOUNG, COMPLEX GENIUS

Dave Musgrove: I remember seeing this young lad hit balls at Royal St. George's in 1975. He had a short body, and long legs and arms. He stood a long way from the ball to give plenty of room to lash it. He would hit the wild one, but then he'd handle it. I started caddieing for him, and he won the 1976 Dutch Open. Won by eight. He expected to win every week -- he really did. Most really good players think there are weeks when they're not good enough. I remember saying to Faldo, "I thought you were going to win last week," and he said, "No, not playing well enough." But Seve never thought like that back then.

Tom Sieckmann: When I went to play the European tour in the summer of 1977, I hung with the Spanish guys. Seve was guarded with people at first, but then we got along well.

He had this really keen sensitivity for the game -- a savant. He told me he was a great green reader because he learned to putt on the beach with the ball against the white sand, and so he really developed an eye for detail. We'd be way out in the fairway, and he'd say, "Look at the grain on that green." Then one year this eye doctor tested the tour pros, and Seve had something like 20-05, just an off-the-charts eagle eye.

One year at Wentworth they had a one-club tournament for the pros, and Seve shot 34 to win by like five shots. And he had power, miles past everyone else. But his instincts were so good; he knew when to lay off it and hit a soft shot. That was the difference between Seve and Norman, who hit everything hard.

Seve would get wild, but he'd find a way to make it work. He always said, if you want to find out who is the best player, just have a course with no fairway.