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 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.
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