13. The 1986 Masters and the shot that broke Seve’s heart
The 50th edition of the Masters is widely regarded as the greatest ever. For Seve Ballesteros and his army of fans, however, the 1986 Masters delivered only heartache.
The Masters is just around the corner, spring is blooming in the Sacred Acre and the course in the orchard is starting to look very minty indeed. The RNGC Invitational is less than 70 days away and everything suddenly — miraculously — feels right with the world.
I love the Masters. My earliest memories of watching the tournament are seeing Craig Stadler win in 1982. I’ve gorged on every one since, with each tournament marking the passage of time and adding its own pleasing patina to the tradition like no other.
And like surely every golfer on the planet, the arrival of the season’s first major is an established rite of passage, a sensory overload that signifies the opening of a new season.
For golfers of a certain age — those playing and avidly following the sport in the pre-Tiger era — the 50th edition of the Masters in 1986 is widely regarded as the greatest ever. At the age of 46, Jack Nicklaus rolled back the years to claim his 18th and final major championship, defeating a host of the game’s finest players with a second-nine charge for the ages.
For Seve Ballesteros and his army of fans, however, that ‘86 Masters delivered only heartache. Thirty-nine years on, this is the story of the shot that changed the trajectory of a legendary career, and broke Seve’s heart.
I still hear the splash in my nightmares
There were good reasons why the bookmakers suspected Seve Ballesteros was seriously undercooked when he arrived at Augusta National in early April 1986. The 29-year-old from Northern Spain, who was bidding to win his fifth major and third Green Jacket in seven seasons, had played only two competitive rounds since the turn of the year. Indeed the European Tour’s 1986 schedule would not get underway until the week after the Masters.
After a major-less 1985, Seve’s usual preparations for the first Grand Slam event of the season had been thwarted by the combination of personal tragedy and a deepening feud.
The latter had resulted in a standoff with the PGA Tour over the number of tournaments Seve was required to enter in the States each season in order to retain his playing privileges. Things came to a head in late 1985 when Europe’s best golfer effectively confirmed he had no intention of fulfilling his agreement with tour commissioner Deane Beman, a man he increasingly viewed as his bete noir.
Seve had reluctantly agreed to play 15 tournaments per season in the US but he’d competed in only nine. So, when the PGA Tour’s policy board met in October 1985, its members voted to ban one of the biggest stars in the game from competing in its events in the 1986 season.
The first problem, though, was far more serious. Seve’s beloved father, Baldomero, was losing his battle with lung cancer.
Baldomero Ballesteros had been at Augusta to witness his youngest son winning the 1983 Masters Tournament, watching with pride as his boy slipped into the Green Jacket for a second time. Baldomero had been a champion rower in Pedrena, the fishing village across the bay from Santander that was home to the Ballesteros clan. Seve had inherited his father’s long arms and indomitable spirit.
In an emotional and wide-ranging interview for Golf Digest in April 2010, while Seve was at home recovering from an operation to remove a large brain tumour, doyen American golf writer Jaime Diaz reported that “Seve felt a kinship with the man who had most helped him feel special, and he took great joy in showing his appreciation.”
When his father was diagnosed with lung cancer, Seve flew him to Houston for treatment. And when his condition deteriorated over Christmas of 1985, Seve brought him home to Spain.
In the first days of March as Baldomero’s life flickered, Seve promised his father that he’d win a third Masters Green Jacket in a few weeks and dedicate the victory to him. Baldomero passed away on March 4th 1986. He was 67.
“My father was a fighter, and he would never give up," Seve later explained. “He always encouraged me. I loved to take him with me in jets or limousines and let him drink whiskey and share my success. He would say, ‘Oh, Seve, this is the life!’ After he died, the hardest thing was when I was winning tournaments I used to call home and he... wasn’t there.”
His father’s illness put the dispute with the PGA Tour and his lack of competitive golf in perspective. “Caring for him was my brother and I’s priority”, Seve said. And so it was that he arrived at Augusta as unprepared as he had ever been but nursing an all-consuming desire to win. He was a man on a mission.
“After he died, the hardest thing was when I was winning tournaments I used to call home and he... wasn't there.”
In his biography of Seve, the British golf writer Alastair Tait touches on the practice round he played with Greg Norman. “Right now I don’t think that he’s as sharp as I’ve seen him,” the Australian offered afterwards.
Other leading lights in the field were more bullish about the prospects of the proven Augusta specialist. “He can turn this place upside down when he’s on,” remarked Fuzzy Zoeller, the 1979 champion. “I think Seve will be the most dangerous,” agreed Calvin Peete.
As Tait reports in his book, Norman still regarded Seve as a major threat: “Being one of the best, if not the best player in the world — people can get intimidated by him. He has this atmosphere about him.”
On the eve of the tournament, Seve let slip he’d taken money off Gary Player and Ben Crenshaw in another practice round. He was in no doubt about who would be putting his arms into the sleeves of the Green Jacket come Sunday. “I’m talking serious. I’m ready,” he told reporters. “Of course you cannot give 100 per cent, but close. I will win this... I know this course as good as my house.”
Seve opened up with 71 and followed it with a four-under-par 68 to be one shot clear of the field on five under par at the halfway stage.
Going into the weekend, Seve’s nearest challenger was the American journeyman Bill Kratzert who lay one shot back. Tommy Nakajima of Japan stood alone in third place on three under par, followed by a group including Norman, Crenshaw and defending champion Bernhard Langer. Jack Nicklaus was six behind after rounds of 74 and 71.
Few expected anything of the 46-year-old Nicklaus. The Golden Bear was six years removed from his last major win. Without a tournament victory of any kind in two years, he’d missed three cuts in the lead-in to the Masters. Nicklaus might have been a five-time Masters champion but he was outside the top 150 on the money list when he teed it up at Augusta.
“I was between things in my life,” Nicklaus later explained. “Senior golf was still pretty new and was down the road. My business was fine, but it didn't take up all my time. I’d play some golf, 12 to 14 tournaments a year, not enough to keep me sharp, but enough to be somewhat competitive. I was neither fish nor fowl. I wasn’t really a golfer.”
On day three, an even par 72, the worst score of the top 15 players on the leaderboard, saw Seve come back to the field. Zimbabwean Nick Price shot a course record 63 but it was Greg Norman who surged to the top with a 68.
The highest placed American after 54 holes of competition was Donnie Hammond, who was level with Seve and Langer on five under par, one shot back of Norman. Other, more prominent US players were in the hunt. Tom Kite and Tom Watson were both on four under par and it was Kite who was paired with Seve for the final round.
The two men had history, recent history. Seve had birdied three of the last five holes to steal a half in their singles match at the previous year’s Ryder Cup at The Belfry. It was a half point that set Europe on the way to an historic victory celebrated by thousands of delirious fans in the balmy autumnal sunshine of Sutton Coldfield. Kite had complained bitterly about the crowds. Their match had been acrimonious, igniting a feud that simmered right up until they faced each other for the last time as non-playing Ryder Cup captains at Valderrama in 1997.
On Sunday April 13th 1986, less than a year after inspiring Europe to victory, Seve set off in the fourth and final round of the 50th Masters Tournament, once again in the company of the bespectacled Texan. He began with six consecutive pars before making his first birdie on the par-4 7th to pull alongside Norman at six under par.
On the par-5 8th, Kite, who had bogeyed the 1st and 3rd, holed out from 80 yards for an eagle three. Seve’s response was to hole out on top of him from 50 yards. They were the only eagles made on the 8th hole in the entire tournament.
Nicklaus, playing ahead, was now six shots behind. He’d walked away from his birdie putt on the 9th green twice, as successive roars rang out for the two stunning shots played on the hole behind. Settling over the ball for the third time, Nicklaus finally made his 11-foot putt to close the gap to five.
Seve followed his eagle on 8 with a bogey at 9, complaining at how his drive had ended in a difficult spot in the trees. Up ahead, Nicklaus birdied 10 and 11, to close within two of the lead.
Tom Kite and Nick Price still stood between the 17-time major champion and Seve and Norman, the tournament’s co-leaders at seven under par. When the Australian double-bogeyed the 10th, Seve was out on his own.
Nicklaus’ charge appeared to stall when he bogeyed the par-3 12th, but he hit straight back with a birdie on 13. Standing on the 14th, the game’s most successful player looked back to see the tournament leader and his caddie, Seve’s older brother Vicente, shaking hands and slapping each other on the back. After a perfect drive on the par-5 13th hole, Seve’s second shot had finished eight feet from the cup. “Fantastica,” cried Vicente as the ball was in the air. “Fantasica.”
“It’s like Seve was saying, ‘This is my tournament, guys. All I need to do is finish it’.” Nicklaus said. “Little did he know.” Nicklaus insists he wasn’t thinking about what Seve was doing. “I had my own problems,” he said. “When was the last time I could control what somebody else did, other than through intimidation?”
Kite, however, was less than impressed with how the Ballesteros brothers had reacted to the brilliant 6-iron approach on 13. “When Seve hit his great second shot…, he seemed to completely forget that he was playing in a twosome,” his playing partner complained. “He and his brother were arm in arm hugging each other. They kept walking and almost reached the green.”
Seve remained dismissive of such claims: “There was such a tense atmosphere on the course that some people thought my brother had made this spontaneous gesture to congratulate me in advance on certain victory and accused him of a lack of sportsmanship,” he retorted years later. “But neither he nor I thought it was over and done with — far from it... All I was thinking about was holing my putt and carding an eagle.”
He did just that. A second eagle in the space of six holes put Seve two clear of Kite and four clear of Nicklaus. The tournament was now his to lose and he responded by launching another missile down the 14th. This time his ball inexplicably struck a marshall in the middle of the fairway, taking a bad bounce.
“Neither he nor I thought it was over and done with — far from it... All I was thinking about was holing my putt and carding an eagle.”
Two groups ahead, Nicklaus striped a driver down the par-5 15th, leaving himself 212 yards to the flag. His 4-iron approach shot was flushed, the ball soaring high and handsome before coming to rest 12 feet from the hole. Cheers echoed around the pines. A few minutes later the decibel level rose still further as Nicklaus poured in his eagle putt.
Seve, wearing a Masters visor with the tournament logo covered by two Nike swooshes he’d cut out of golf shirts, made his par four at 14 to remain at nine under, two shots clear of Nicklaus. On the 15th he too unleashed a long, straight drive, catching the downslope to leave himself within easy reach of the green. He’d taken another big step towards the Butler Cabin.
Below, in the valley, the noise reached a new and sustained crescendo as Nicklaus almost holed his tee shot on the par-3 16th.
Tom Watson, playing in the group ahead of Seve, stepped away from his putt on the 15th green as Nicklaus unleashed another deafening blast by rolling in his three and a half foot birdie putt. Back up the hill on the 15th fairway, Seve and Vicente were standing over the ball. The commentator stated he had 196 yards to the flag. The debate over which club to take had now lasted a full five minutes.
The choice was either a flat-out, adrenaline-charged 5-iron or a soft 4-iron. Seve decided on the second option. “You can just see that he quit on it,” Nicklaus said. “It didn't get halfway across the water. It was not a good shot. Frankly, I expected that somewhere during the week from Seve, but it didn’t happen until 15.”
As Nicklaus told Golf Digest, “I was talking to Seve at the Champions Dinner early in the week. He told me he hadn’t been playing a lot of golf, period, and not much tournament golf, and wasn’t as sharp as he needed to be. Now, every time I wasn’t sharp and I got in a tough situation, I would never take more club and hit it easy. You’re much better off taking less club and hitting the ball harder.”
Years later, Seve took full responsibility for selecting the “nice, gentle 4-iron” that came off the club face low and crooked. For some unfathomable reason, Seve’s normally fluid action malfunctioned horribly, leaving him clutching the club in one hand as his ball dived low and left into the pond guarding the front of the green.
“I’ve never wished anyone bad, but I knew exactly what had happened.”
Despite Seve’s prodigious blow from the tee — 300 yards-plus with a small-headed persimmon driver — the second shot he faced was more difficult than it looked. Tom Kite later noted that his ball was lying on the downhill side of a mound in the fairway. In his autobiography, Seve said he felt it was better to be long on 15 than short. The irony.
The mixture of groans and cheers that greeted Seve’s dismal 4-iron told Nicklaus everything he needed to know. “It was not a nice sound,” he recalled. “I’ve never wished anyone bad, but I knew exactly what had happened. People were yelling at me, ‘It's in the water! It’s in the water!’ and I'm thinking, I know that.”
Seve took a penalty drop and pitched up to around 14 feet but his downhill par putt slipped by. Suddenly, the game’s greatest champion and the golfer many believed to be his successor were tied at eight under par, alongside Tom Kite, who had birdied 11, 13 and 15. Greg Norman and Tom Watson were two shots back on six under.
Nicklaus has talked of intimidating his rivals on that iconic late afternoon in Georgia 39 years ago. Seve, though, maintained he was unaffected by the noise generated by the Nicklaus charge.
“Even respecting [Nicklaus] as all golfers do,” Seve explained in his autobiography, “he didn’t intimidate on the course then as he might have done ten years earlier. Moreover, if a player tries to intimidate me, the only thing he succeeds in doing is to make me feel even more determined... I was 29 and had played at the highest level for 10 years; none of this could disrupt my game.”
Vicente Ballesteros was not so sure. “Shit, we’re going to lose,” he’d cried as his brother’s ball sank without trace on 15. “Calm down!” Seve hissed as he stalked to the next tee. “It will be alright in the end! We can still win!”
The truth is Seve’s iron-clad belief in his own invincibility had been fatally punctured. His tee shot on 16 only just made it over the pond and he scrambled a par. Up the hill on the 17th green, Nicklaus rolled in another birdie putt to move to seven under for the round, and seven under for his last nine holes. He was now a shot clear on nine under par.
Minutes later, Seve three-putted the same green. His race was run.
Just as he had a year earlier, Seve had played all four rounds in par or better but come up short. “I played very good,” he said. “Just one bad shot, that’s all.”
If you could re-hit any shot in your career, which one would it be? Journalist Paul Kimmage put this question to Seve in a memorable 2004 interview for The Sunday Times. “Second shot to No 15, 1986,” came the instant reply.
“[Seve] was wearing the bulletproof vest of the world’s No 1,” wrote Kimmage of those fateful moments as the shadows lengthened on Sunday April 13th, 1986. “He was 29 years old, and the promise he had made to his father a month before on his deathbed was about to be fulfilled. One good swing would do it; just a smooth four-iron to carry the lake, like thousands he had hit before... A breeze lifted his hair. The only way he could lose was to put the ball in the water…. he still hears the splash in his nightmares.”
Kimmage asked Seve whether he accepted the shot was the turning point of his career. “It’s not a question of accepting it,” Seve responded, “because in 1987 I lost the Masters in a playoff, which means I was there. And in 1988 I won the Open again in Lytham. So, no, it’s not true. It’s a good question, but you need to ask it a different way. If you ask me, ‘Do you think that instead of hitting the second shot into the water, you hit it on the green, you would have won 10 majors instead of five?’ I’d say, ‘Yes’. Because by not winning a tournament that nine times out of 10 was mine, it really stopped my rhythm and momentum of winning.”
Seve’s sustained brilliance at Augusta cannot be overstated. It is a passage of play that puts him in very exalted company indeed. In the 1980s, he won the Masters twice (1980 and 1983) and recorded five other top-five finishes. In at least three of those years he had a legitimate chance to win on Sunday. Seve’s assessment was not simply the bravado of a proud competitor, he could and probably should have won at least four Green Jackets.
Kimmage followed up by asking how much that second shot on 15 had hurt. “It still hurts me today,” Seve replied. “It was a very bitter moment, the bitterest moment of my career. It not only hurts me, it burns me inside. That particular tournament was very important to me… I promised my father I would win, just before he died. I came so close to keeping that promise. It hurts me, it really hurts me very much, but that’s how it is.”
I remember seeing Seve playing in the British Open at Royal St George's, Sandwich, Kent in 1979. Unforgettable.
A brilliant read Dan!