1995 / 77th PGA RIVIERA : Riviera Turns Into Elkingtown : It Was a Lurker’s Paradise

And the winner is . . .

Er, just a minute, I have it here somewhere!

Ah, here it is! Ernie Els!

Wait! No, that’s not it? Ah! Mark O’Meara!

What? He blew to a 73?

Oh, the envelope, please! Here it is . . .

Steve Elkington. Ladies and gentlemen, your 1995 PGA champion is Australia (and Houston’s) pride and joy--a little traveling music, Professor--Steve, by God, Elkington!

Psst! Got a tour guide on you? Who is this guy? Where’d he come from?

Well, Stephen John Elkington is a touring pro from Sydney. He’s not The Shark. He’s not David Graham or even Graham Marsh. He had never won a major before, doesn’t have his own logo or a line of clubs. He has this nice swing, but his putting has been so-so on occasion.

He was six shots out of the lead going into the final round of the PGA at Riviera, so nobody was rushing to the first tee at 12:08 when he teed off on his final round. On the tour, his rearward position is described as “lurking.” Tournament “lurkers” are kind of like buzzards. They lie in wait for the leaders to crash and topple. Then, they swoop.

That’s what Elkington did. He lurked. He was 10 shots under par, six back of the leader. He found out, though, about the fourth hole, that this was one of those days when everything flew off the clubhead, straight and true to the hole. You get those days. Elkington went to work. He admitted later that he had intended to “defend himself against the course, shoot for the fat of the green, lag putts cautiously.” But his game was like a wild horse straining at the bit. So Steve let it run. He took chances, risked a 74, shot a 64.

That’s not a cause for organ music and candlelight at Riviera this week. But it was good enough to give him the first “major” of his career.

He was easy to overlook. The poets of the press had all but awarded the tournament to South Africa’s Ernie Els, who went around Riviera all week as if it owed him money. If Els faltered, the chalk said to bet O’Meara, who was only three shots behind Els.

Elkington won it. But there were two things at work here, it seems to me--two corollaries to Murray’s Overall Law of Golf.

The first was that you always bet the guy who feels the sickest. The guy who shows up with a crutch or a cast--and beware the golfer with the sniffles, the limp, the headache or the sore back.

It’s proven over and over. Recall the year Hale Irwin showed up at an L.A. Open with a swollen eye and cheek, the result of an errant golf shot? All Hale did was shoot 272 and rout Tom Watson.

Happens all the time. Let me explain to you why. It’s because the afflicted player has to do what we’re all supposed to do but don’t--keep the head still. Does wonders for your short game. Steve Elkington showed up this week with his allergies kicking up, head aching, nose running. He’s allergic to grass, of all things. To opt for a career in golf with that affliction is like a jockey allergic to horses or a ferryboat captain allergic to salt water. Steve ignored his problems even though he admits feeling lousy early in the week. He just sneezed and honked and took his antihistamine tablets--and went out and kept his head still and shot 267, which ties the lowest score ever shot in a major.

He probably has mixed feelings about finding a cure for his ailments.

The other Murray axiom at work at the tournament this week was the one that holds that every golfer has one cold round in his 72-hole tournament.

A “cold” round can be anything from a 76 in some cases to a 72 in others.

You try to keep your “cold” round early in the tournament. Your tournament can be, as I have noted, “hot-cold-hot-hot” or it can even be “hot-hot-cold-hot.” But you must never save your “cold” round till last. Hogan never had a cold last round.

Ernie Els did. On the face of it, a 72 doesn’t look too frigid. But around Riviera this week, it looked polar. Ernie shot 66-65-66-72.

There is also the trick of keeping your cold round from numbing. Take what starts out like a 78, recognize it, and deal with it. Shave it to a 73 with canny, no-risk play.

Els couldn’t or didn’t. It was a day when Riviera awoke and began to bite back. What was supposed to be a walk in the park for Ernie Els became a walk through Dracula’s castle.

Elkington won in a playoff with Colin Montgomerie, another “lurker.” But Montgomerie would probably have won this tournament by four shots if his putts all week were six inches longer. Montgomerie hit about 15 more putts than Els after three rounds and was thus five shots behind. He hit a putt on 12 the second day that stopped halfway down in the hole, not even on the lip.

Elkington got $360,000, which is $66,000 more than he made all last year. That’ll buy a lot of nasal spray and Kleenex. Maybe he should take out an insurance policy against his head clearing and his nose coming unstuffed. He wants to keep his head cold--and his last rounds hot.