When I was growing up, three names dominated the PGA Tour — Gary Player, Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus. They weren't the only golfers who won tournaments in the 1960s and 1970s, just the most frequent and prominent winners.
On this day 50 years ago, Player and Palmer had both won the Masters at least once. Palmer had won it three times, the most recent being the year before. Nicklaus, by far the youngest of the three, had not yet won it.
But he was about to.
Nicklaus became a professional golfer in late 1961, and he won his first major tournament (the U.S. Open) the next year. That was a pretty dramatic victory. Nicklaus prevailed over Palmer by three strokes in a playoff. At 22, he was the youngest U.S. Open winner since Bobby Jones nearly 40 years earlier; no one who is any younger has won the Open since.
On this day in 1963, Nicklaus became the youngest golfer to win the Masters. Tiger Woods became the youngest winner in 1997 when, at the age of 21, he won by 12 strokes.
In the buildup to this year's Masters, which begins on Thursday, there has been considerable speculation concerning whether Woods will win his first Masters since 2005.
But even if he does, it will be Woods' fifth triumph at the Augusta Golf Club; he will still trail Nicklaus, who has won a green jacket a record six times, by one title.
Tiger's first Masters title was a dramatic one because, initially, it looked as if he wouldn't make the cut, but he roared back to finish the four–day tourney at 18 under par, beating runnerup Tom Kite by 12 strokes.
Nicklaus did not enjoy such a comfortable margin in 1963. He held on for a one–stroke victory over Tony Lema, who trailed by three strokes entering the final day and nearly forced Nicklaus into a playoff. A double bogey in the opening round proved to be his undoing.
The 1963 Masters was a defining moment, writes John Berry in the Lake County Record–Bee of Lakeport, Calif.
Battling "brisk and windy" conditions, Berry writes, Nicklaus "showed that he had what it takes to win under the toughest of conditions on golf's biggest stage."
The Golden Bear won the Masters five more times, the most recent being in 1986.
Tomorrow, the Michigan Wolverines will make their first appearance in the NCAA Tournament's Final Four in 20 years.
They had a chance to return to the Final Four the following year, but they lost to my alma mater, the University of Arkansas. They haven't been back since.
A lot of attention has been paid this week to Wichita State, which is back in the Final Four for the first time in nearly half a century. Having the spotlight shine on someone else might be something of a relief for Michigan, given what happened the last time the Wolverines played in the Final Four.
On this night two decades ago, Michigan faced North Carolina in the championship game in New Orleans. It was a close game, competitive, definitely entertaining for the fans, but it is almost certainly remembered for a single moment in the final seconds.
Michigan's Chris Webber had the ball and tried to call a timeout. Unfortunately for him, Michigan was out of timeouts. That meant a technical foul was assessed against Michigan. Game over.
Until that point, Webber had been having a pretty decent game. He led all Michigan players in scoring with 23 points, and he was second only to North Carolina's Donald Williams (by two points) among all players.
And, in the end, he was named to the All–Tournament Team along with Williams and two other North Carolina players.
But then it was learned that he had received under–the–table payments from a booster, and Michigan had to vacate its entire 1992–93 season.
And the Wolverines haven't been seen in the Final Four since that night — well, until now.
It was the last gasp of Michigan's Fab Five, the nickname given to the 1991 recruiting class that took the program to consecutive national championship games in 1992 and 1993.
The memory that lingers from the '92 tournament has nothing to do with Michigan. That tournament is remembered for the epic East Regional final between Duke and Kentucky, won in overtime by Duke. Duke went on to beat Michigan in the championship game.
The '93 tournament is remembered mostly for Webber's faux pas. The two are so closely linked that my guess is Webber's mistake will be mentioned in the first paragraph of his obituary.
I've seen a few really noteworthy upsets in championship settings in my life.
Most of the time they seem to come in baseball — the Amazin' New York Mets of 1969 and the Kirk Gibson—led Los Angeles Dodgers of 1988 come to mind — and, occasionally, they come in football — when the Miami Hurricanes knocked off top–ranked Nebraska in the 1984 Orange Bowl, for example, or when Joe Namath took the New York Jets to a triumph in the third Super Bowl.
Sometime the outcome hinges on an obvious mistake. Perhaps it is a bad call, like the one that turned things around for the Kansas City Royals against the St. Louis Cardinals in 1985. Other times, it may be a poor strategic decision by a coach or a player.
But of all the team sport championships in my memory that were not decided by a blown call or a blatantly poor decision by a coach or a player, there was one really epic upset, the NCAA Tournament finale between the University of Houston and North Carolina State played 30 years ago tonight.
Houston's Cougars were widely regarded as just too good to lose. The roster had Hakeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler, the best and probably best–known members of "Texas' Tallest Fraternity" — Phi Slama Jama — but they had plenty of talented support from guys like Benny Anders, Larry Micheaux and Michael Young.
Phi Slama Jama specialized in dunking the ball. The players were big and physical, and they played in the last years when neither the shot clock nor the three–point shot existed in college basketball. If the game's pace had been faster or if making a long shot had been rewarded with an additional point, Phi Slama Jama might not have been as successful as it was.
But in its time, Houston went to back–to–back NCAA finals and lost both. In their second appearance, the Cougars went up against a pretty strong Georgetown team led by Patrick Ewing. My memory is that Houston's loss in that game really didn't surprise me. The Hoyas and the Cougars were considered to be evenly matched.
But the same could not be said of Houston's foe 30 years ago tonight, the North Carolina State Wolfpack. N.C. State barely managed to get in to the NCAA Tournament that year; the Wolfpack were seeded sixth in the West but won three cliffhangers en route to the Final Four.
Cliffhangers weren't anything new for the Wolfpack. They had to endure seven of them in their last nine games just to qualify for the NCAA Tournament. In so doing, they had earned the nickname "Cardiac Pack."
Top–ranked Houston, by comparison, had cruised through the tournament. In their national semifinal with #2 Louisville 48 hours earlier, the Cougars won by 13 points.
It was probably the greatest Cinderella story in my lifetime — so far, anyway.
N.C. State was a huge underdog that night. I remember that, at the time, I was working for a small–town newspaper in central Arkansas, and I was covering a county government meeting that night. I covered these meetings on a regular basis, and I knew that, even though they tended to draw very small crowds, the officials tended to get into long–winded arguments about damn near everything.
In my experience, if one of those meetings was over in less than two hours, it was a miracle.
I was disheartened by this knowledge because I really wanted to see the game, and I was convinced that I would miss most, if not all, of it.
But fate seemed to be on my side. The meeting ended early. I asked a few of the officials some questions, and I left, certain that I could be home before tipoff.
As I walked out, a county police officer who always attended the meetings called out to me. We chatted for a few minutes, then I excused myself, explaining that I wanted to see the game.
"Who do you think will win?" he asked me as I started walking down the hall.
"Houston," I said, without hesitation. I simply couldn't imagine North Carolina State winning the game.
But I was wrong.
N.C. State led by eight points at halftime, then squandered the lead in the second half but rallied by exploiting Houston's Achilles' heel — free–throw shooting.
The Wolfpack frustrated the Cougars, fouling them every time they had their hands on the ball. Olajuwon fared pretty well, hitting six of seven attempts, but, as a team, Houston barely managed to sink half its free throws.
Phi Slama Jama's reputation was built on power ball. As Drexler said, he liked to dunk — as did the rest of the Cougars. Free throws weren't something on which they spent a lot of time.
Still, it took a slam dunk by Lorenzo Charles just before the buzzer to lift the Wolfpack to that improbable triumph.
A "tomato can" is a fighter who is believed to be past his prime and an "easy" or "guaranteed" win for an up-and-coming fighter who wants to pad his record.
Sometimes, though, the "tomato can" doesn't cooperate. For example, in 1990, undefeated heavyweight champion Mike Tyson lost the title to a 42-to-1 underdog named Buster Douglas.
Another heavyweight champion, Muhammad Ali, almost lost his title to lightly regarded Chuck Wepner in 1975. Wepner nearly went the distance against Ali and inspired the original "Rocky" movie.
I got my bachelor's degree in journalism from the University of Arkansas, and I got my master's degree in journalism from the University of North Texas. Most of my adult life has been dedicated to writing and editing in one form or another. Most recently I have taught writing (news and developmental) as an adjunct journalism professor at Richland College, where I advise the student newspaper staff. Go, Thunderducks!
