erhaps the landscape of competitive golf is too broad, elastic and time-warped to even attempt this. Eras are distended and sometimes overlapping. Strength of competition swells and deflates. Major championships gain and lose recognition. Money is an impossible barometer. And how do you compare Mickey Wright to Bobby Jones anyhow? With all that, here it is: Our ranking of the 50 Greatest Golfers of All Time, which rates, parenthetically, as one of the most ambitious projects in the 50-year history of Golf Digest.
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Our voting panel was not shackled by a formal set of criteria. The methodology: We circulated 60 ballots to members of our Professional Advisory Staff, Teaching Professionals, Contributing Editors, in-house editors and a select group of writers and historians. We asked them to rank the top 10 players in order, and to then place the remaining players in descending groups of 10. Points were awarded for each 10-golfer bracket, with bonus points given to the special players who fell within the top 10.
The ranking does not intend to quell controversy. No ranking ever has. Our fervent hope is that it inspires argument at every station, from No. 2 to No. 50. (You'll give us Jack Nicklaus as No. 1, won't you?) The instructional points set forth by the greatest golfers who ever lived should help your game as well. Finally, we hope the essays contributed by many of the world's most accomplished writers, athletes and high-profile figures will entertain and enlighten you as to the legacy of these remarkable individuals.
1 Jack Nicklaus
The greatest of all time
A champion's champion: He showed us how to play
BY TIGER WOODS
If you aspire to be the greatest, you must at first have a clear picture of greatness. Mine appeared bigger than life, towering over opponents as he dominated professional golf. So you can imagine my surprise when I first met Jack Nicklaus and discovered I was taller.
Mr. Nicklaus, as I called him back then, was conducting a clinic at Bel-Air Country Club in Los Angeles, a short drive on the expressway from my home in Cypress. I was part of the show, sponsored by the Friends of Golf (FOG) tournament, having been selected by head pro Eddie Merrins to put on a ball-striking exhibition. I was 15 and a Nicklaus disciple from the time I was able to understand his stature in the game. "Hello, Mr. Nicklaus," I said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
I hit a few hooks, slices, low shots and high fades. I knew I had some skills and loved to show off. Jack complimented me on my golf swing and gave me a few words of encouragement. "Tiger," he said, "when I grow up I want to have a swing as beautiful as yours." We shook hands and posed for a picture. I felt even taller afterward. I guess meeting greatness had elevating power.
My dad first told me about Jack when I was 6 or 7. He wanted to make sure I knew my history. He proclaimed Jack to be the greatest ever, and Jack immediately became the standard against which I measured myself. I saw a clipping in The L.A. Times noting some of his accomplishments. It included the first time he broke 80 and 70; the first time he won the state amateur in Ohio and the U.S. Amateur. I was pretty young, but I understood that if I was going to become the best, Jack's record was a pretty good place to start. So I cut the article out of the paper and tacked it just above the headboard of my bed. I figured it was a nice little barometer to see what someone else had done. If I could do that well, great. If not, then that would be fine, too. At least I had something to shoot for.
Watching Jack on TV and reading about him, I soon realized for myself just how good he was. There were a couple of things about Jack that really caught my attention. First, his intensity level. Whether he was shooting 65 to win or was grinding out a 74 on Friday afternoon to make the cut, his intensity level never wavered. Now, none of us know his mental approach, because if we knew that we'd all be winning. But his intensity level was unmistakable.
Second, all serious golfers have at one time or another faced a putt in the final round of a tournament or late in a match that you have to make to keep your chances alive. Almost invariably, Jack was able to make that putt. The greatest pressure putter of all time? He'd get my vote.
Perhaps the most impressive thing about Jack's record is that not only did he win a lot of tournaments, but he won them over a long period of time. His consistency and durability have been incredible. He and Arnold Palmer share the record of winning at least one PGA Tour event for 17 straight years. Incredible. Year in and year out, he kept winning.
Chasing Jack isn't easy. Eighteen professional major championships. It's a daunting task. Some would suggest that Jack's record is unattainable today because of the strength of field at majors. Even though the depth of field wasn't as good then as it is now, in major championships the top players always seemed to be in contention. That hasn't changed. In fact, just as impressive as Jack's 18 majors is the number of times he was in contention. He put himself there more than anyone else. There was a 13-year stretch in the British Open in which he had 11 top-3 finishes. He has 73 top 10s in majors. That's 18 years' worth. Now there's a record that might be unreachable.
The fun in chasing Jack lies in the challenge, even though it appears insurmountable. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not consumed with the chase. I don't lie awake at night thinking about his records. In fact, I'm a world-champion sleeper. I've learned from Jack to put myself in position to win on Sunday. Sometimes you'll win. Other times, opponents will give you a win. The important thing, though, is to put yourself in position to take advantage of those opportunities. Jack did that better than anyone. He also taught me that you don't have to be on top of your game to win. In one of our conversations, he told me, "I very seldom won with my A game. I won with my B game and my C game, and I managed. You have the same thing."
Jack wasn't telling me that I was so superior to my fellow competitors, but that I had the ability to overcome less-than-great ball-striking. Jack wasn't the purest hitter in golf, nor did he have the most elegant swing. He did, however, know how to win-how to get it done with what he had that week. And he was surely one of the game's best thinkers.
I think he also saw a little of himself in me when we teed it up together in a practice round for the 1996 U.S. Open at Oakland Hills. A couple pieces of
advice he gave me that week proved he could identify with me as a player and as a person. When we came to the 18th, a tough dogleg right that Ben Hogan birdied in the final round of his Open victory in '51, Jack put his arm around my shoulder. "I used to take a driver, cut off the dogleg and have a short iron into the green, while almost everyone else was hitting a 3-wood and laying up," he said, pointing to the trees that protected the leg. "You can do the same. The only difference is that those trees weren't full-grown when I did it." He smiled that little mischievous smile.
After I won a second straight U.S. Amateur, I had a difficult time adjusting to the demands of the media. I just wanted to be treated like everyone else. Arnold had always been free with his counsel on such matters, but Jack was also a valued adviser. He put in perspective how to handle the media. He said it was my responsibility to talk to them as long as I was the focal point of the tournament-no matter how well or badly I played. He also said that the media should not expect an hour-long interview after I've just played a poor round. There had to be mutual respect. I felt he knew what I was going through.
Other times we just enjoyed each other's company and the chance to win a few skins. During the practice round before my Masters victory in 1997, Arnold, Jack and I had the best time kibitzing over bets. Arnold took all the skins. We also played together in the Par-3 Tournament. I was nervous the whole round, but it was a good kind of nervousness. Man, did I witness the competitiveness of those two. I'd hit what I thought was a pretty good shot. Jack would hit it inside me, then Arnold would hit it inside Jack. Age got the better of beauty that day.
The one thing of which I'm certain is that Jack remains the standard. I think what we all remember about Jack is that he's not only the greatest player of all time, but he's a true champion on and off the course. Maybe he hasn't won the most tournaments, but the fact that he was able to do it in the majors for a longer period of time-and win more of them than anyone else-is the most incredible thing about his career. I only hope that one day I'll be eye level to him in accomplishments. That would be tall enough.
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Nicklaus won 18 professional majors, including four U.S. Opens (1962, '67, '72, '80), five PGA Championships (1963, '71, '73, '75, '80), six Masters (1963, '65, '66, '72, '75, '86) and three British Opens (1966, '70, '78). He won the U.S. Amateur twice (1959, '61). He won 70 tournaments on the PGA Tour and was leading money-winner eight times. He played on six U.S. Ryder Cup teams and was captain in 1983 and '87.
Let the left heel rise
* The less a golfer's left heel lifts going back, the more the left hip is forced to drop and the right hip to rise in response to the pulling of the arms and shoulders as they attempt to turn fully.
* The more the hips rock or tilt going back, the more they will rock or tilt the other way reactively swinging down.
* The more tilted the hips during the forward swing, the less easily they can rotate toward the target.
* The less easily the hips rotate targetward, the less room the golfer makes for the arms to swing freely past the body-the more, so to speak, he "gets in his own way."
I work periodically in practice on consciously allowing the left heel to be pulled clear of the ground going back proportionate to the amount of shoulder turn I am making. By doing that, I reduce the amount of tilting or rocking in my hips, which enables them to rotate sufficiently to make room for my arms to swing freely past my body, which allows me to release my wrists and hands fully, which produces full extension at impact.
If you feel "blocked" or "in your own way" during the later stages of the downswing, you might find a little more left-heel lift mighty helpful.
Jack Nicklaus
2 Ben Hogan
A quiz on the best ball-striker the game ever knew
By DAN JENKINS
The fact that I knew Ben Hogan longer and better than anybody else in the sportswriting dodge often worked against me when dealing with my journalistic brethren. We'd play these trivia games during idle hours in bars, restaurants, press rooms, wherever, and it always worked out that they'd eventually make sport of me.
Here are some of my questions followed by their answers:
Ownself: "Who was the golfer who even Jack Nicklaus agrees was the greatest shotmaker who ever lived, all through the bag, all 14 clubs?
Somebody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who's the only player who ever won five U.S. Opens?"
Two guys: "Ben Hogan." [Yep, we count the '42 Hale America National Open, and you should, too.]
Ownself: "Besides Willie Anderson, who's the only other player to win three U.S. Opens in a row?"
Three guys: "Ben Hogan." [Not bad: He won in 1948, didn't play in '49 and then won in '50 and '51.]
Ownself: "After Byron Nelson's 18 wins in '45, who won 13 for the second-most victories in a year?"
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who once won six tournaments in a row, which is second only to Byron Nelson's 11 in a row?"
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who won 68 lifetime tournaments, which is more than anybody other than Sam Snead and Jack Nicklaus?"
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who's the only player who finished in the top 10 in 16 straight U.S. Opens?"
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who's the only player who finished in the top 10 in 14 straight Masters tourna . . . "
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who's the only guy to win five Colonial National Invi . . . "
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "Who invented pract . . . "
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
Ownself: "What golfer . . . "
Everybody: "Ben Hogan!"
Ownself: "Who are the only three quarterbacks who won a national championship in college and an NFL championship in the pros?"
Everybody: "Ben Hogan."
They weren't really tricked.
Hogan won the U.S. Open in 1948, '50, '51 and '53, the PGA Championship in 1946 and '48, the Masters in 1951 and '53, and the British Open in 1953. He won 68 professional tournaments, including 13 in 1946 and 10 in 1948.
Limit your hip turn
Some prominent golfers advocate taking a big turn of the hips. I don't go along with this. If the hips are turned too far around, then you can't create tension in the muscles between the hips and the shoulders. A golfer wants to have this tension; he wants the mid-section of his body to be tightened up, for this tension is the key to the whole downswing. The downswing, you see, is initiated by turning the hips back to the left. When you have this stored-up tension in the muscles between the hips and the shoulders, you have something with which you can begin the downswing. As the hips turn back to the left, this turning motion increases their tension. It is this increased tension that unwinds the upper part of the body.
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