A few years back Augusta was lengthened, and Gay Brewer and I shot some big numbers in the first round. The next morning I said to Gay, "If we shoot 42 on the first nine, let's pick up." I don't know why I chose 42. On the ninth hole, I got up and down for par out of the greenside bunker, and Gay three-putted for a bogey. He added up my score, I added up his, and darned if they both didn't add up to 42. We laughed, and we did walk in.
I played golf for 25 years before I made a hole-in-one of any kind. I was on the tour for years before it finally happened. Eventually I made 23, but boy, that first one was a long time coming. It was the price I paid for not shooting at every flag.
Tommy Bolt was the best ball-striker I ever saw, but his temper was every bit as ferocious as you've heard. I was playing with Tommy in Michigan one year when he flubbed a 4-wood shot from the rough. Then he wheeled and threw the 4-wood as hard as he could, where nobody was standing. A skinny post was sticking out of the ground about 30 yards from Tommy. The club wrapped around that post as neatly as if you were tying a bow. It stuck there, and that, combined with Tommy's rage, made me laugh so hard I couldn't play anymore. A hole would go by, I would picture the club around the post, I'd look over at Tommy, and I'd almost go to my knees. This was more than 40 years ago, and when I see Tommy, I still get tears in my eyes.
If your lie is too poor to hit a 4-wood, it's too poor to hit a 4-iron. Go with a 5-iron or less.
At Olympic in '66, Arnold led me by seven with nine holes left. He wanted the U.S. Open scoring record badly. I told Arnold I wanted to finish second—I was a couple of shots ahead of Nicklaus and Tony Lema—and Arnold replied, "I'll do anything I can to help you." I picked up a couple of shots early on the back nine, then two shots on 15, two more on 16 and another on 17. We're tied. On 18, Arnold lagged a long putt to within a few feet, leaving himself a tough little putt for par. He was partially in my line and asked what I wanted him to do. "Go ahead, Arnold, you're hot," I said. I wasn't being a smart aleck, it was just my answer. Anyway, he made it, we tied, and I won the next day in a playoff. Some say Arnold was never the same after that defeat, and I have to agree.
I had all kinds of allergy problems with certain meats, and with fruits and vegetables with pesticides. So I turned to bear, caribou, venison, hippopotamus, buffalo, elk and moose. Taste-wise, buffalo and elk are tied for first. Not gamy, and loaded with protein. And very expensive, I might add.
I played in the British Open only four times. The biggest regret of my career. The year I remember best was not 1968, when I almost won at Carnoustie. I remember 1971 better, because if I had missed the cut I would have left immediately for Morocco, where I'd gone many times to stay with my friend King Hassan II. It's a good thing I made the cut, because a coup was attempted the day we would have arrived. People were killed, and friends of the king were fair game. Claude Harmon, Butch's dad, was there, and he was forced to lie on the ground at the golf course for four hours while the insurgents conducted the coup. The king prevailed, and nine days later I went over. Playing well pays off in a lot of ways.
The practice tee is way overrated. On the whole, my advice is to play more and practice less.
I've never felt pressure on the golf course in my life. I felt pressure when I went to Vietnam to entertain the troops, though. One time we were in the back of a Caribou airplane, and the North Vietnamese were waiting for us. They opened up on the plane, and after we landed someone shot a picture of me inspecting the bullet holes in the plane. What scared me was, there were eight barrels of gasoline on board with us. If a bullet had hit one of those barrels, there would have been no use looking for the airplane, the crew or Billy Casper, because nothing would have been left. Now that was pressure.
What does hippopotamus taste like? Not surprisingly, it's very watery.
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