Floyd Is Easy to Spott: He’s One Under Par

In the 1930s, when he was the best player in golf, Bobby Jones played Riviera Country Club for the first time. He shot 73. When he came in, a committee braced him, wanted to know what he thought of the course.

“Riviera?” Jones asked in some surprise. “Oh, it’s a nice course. But, tell me, where do the members play?”

To Jones, it was a perfectly natural question. It was normal in those days to build a course for tournament play and a member-friendly second course across the street, and it was inconceivable to him Riviera’s demonic 7,000 yards could be played successfully by any member 14-handicappers.

Riviera is a shameless hussy. It sits there with a come-hither look, bats its big eyes at you, seems to invite “Kiss me!”

But God help you if you try. You’ll suddenly find yourself in the clutches of a screaming wildcat.

Riviera used to be heartless in Jones’ day. Then, over the years, the greatest players in the world attacked it. Hogan, Snead, Nelson all won here. Scores went down. The course looked helpless--as if it were tied to the track and the 5 o’clock limited was on time and bearing down on it. Lanny Wadkins shot a 264, 20 under par, one year. Rivierans needed smelling salts.

Then, rocket science moved into the picture. Golf clubs and balls were made of exotic metals, fissionable materials. You could either shoot par or bomb Paris with them. But Riviera tried to cling to its past. The club would grow rough, toughen up the greens, hide the pins--and then, a week before the L.A. Open, the PGA’s Jack Tuthill (or his successors) would show up, look at the hazards, frown and say “Cut it back!” They didn’t want their pros shooting 78s, they wanted 264s. If Riviera was getting a reputation as a roundheels, they didn’t care.

But, then, the U.S. Senior Open came to the Riv this week. Now, these are not the young Tigers of the tour, these are yesterday’s heroes. Still good, still capable of incandescent play, the skills are not eroded but just subtly limited. The back aches more than it did 20 years ago, the knees sometimes creak. Jack Nicklaus almost hobbles from tee to green. The ball doesn’t go as far as it used to, but it’s often just as straight.

So, now, they toughen up the course, put its fangs back, grow that elephant grass rough, hide the pins, speed up the greens. The players are 20 years older but the course is 30 years younger.

You knew it was all turned around when you came into the press tent the morning of the opening round. Now, when you came into the L.A. Open tent in recent years, the scoreboard already looked like a catsup bottle spilled on it. Someone was already deep in red figures, maybe six under making the turn. The scoreboard would be all 3s and 4s.

Switch now to the opening round of the U.S. Senior Open this week. The first thing that strikes you is that the scoreboard numbers are almost all a nice funereal black. The leader is one under par. Somebody named Baiocchi gets to two under par by the 10th hole but by 18, he’s even par. Nicklaus opens with a birdie but by 15 he has double-bogeyed into a three over.

This is the Riviera we’ve come to know and love. The defender of the faith, the last best hope of the game’s traditions.

But you want to say “Hey! Not these guys! Not this week! Those young whippersnappers from three years ago. Grow that rough for those guys, hide those pins, deepen those traps for those guys, not these legends.”

It’s not that it’s grandfather golf. These elder statesmen of golf are asked to meet conditions here the young whippersnappers never did.

Back in ’48 when the U.S. Open was held here, host pro Willie Hunter wouldn’t let the USGA grow rough in the kikuyu grass. “You’ll embarrass the best players in the world, nobody’ll break 300,” he warned. They bowed to his wishes. No rough.

So, three players broke the Open record that year--Hogan, Demaret and Jim Turnesa. The USGA was annoyed.

But a trend had been established. Riviera continued to be deprived of its natural defenses, to be rendered docile.

Until this week.

The seniors were stunned. Riviera wasn’t grandmother any more, it was a wolf in her bed. Hale Irwin, who won three U.S. Opens and is winning by the week on the senior tour, weighed in with a 77 and stormed off the course.

Larry Nelson, who only won a U.S. Open and two PGA Championships on the regular tour, noted “This may be the hardest venue I have ever played anywhere. And I am talking about U.S. Opens and PGAs of the past. I don’t know, but I don’t think you’re supposed to grow kikuyu grass 12 inches long. You never know what the ball is going to do out there.” He picked up on the ninth hole and withdrew from the tournament because of injuries. He had had enough of Riviera.

Actually, this will be music to the ears of old-line Rivierans, tired of the indignities visited on their course in recent years. The old girl is armed and dangerous again this week. Someone named Rick Gaffoglio shot a 91, Jim Frederick shot a 92, Butch Leal a 91. Nelson started out bogey-bogey-bogey and went downhill from there. The average score Thursday was almost 79.

So, take that, golfers! Wipe your feet, take off your hat, and mind your manners. Riviera has got its teeth bared and the fur standing straight up on the back of its neck. It’s mad as hell and not going to take it any more.

Bobby Jones would understand perfectly. So would Willie Hunter.