AUGUSTA – The weekend is here, and a champion is waiting in the wings.  His name may reside on the leaderboard at the end of the day, but perhaps not.

Over the years there has been much final round melodrama at Augusta.  While there have been wire-to-wire champions, there has been sensationally gripping and tense moments when the outcome is decided on the final nine holes of play.  You know the line that has gained traction:  The Masters begins on the back nine on Sunday.

This pulsating circumstance dates to 1935 when Gene Sarazen made his famous double eagle on No. 15 to tie Craig Wood and then defeated him in a 36-hole playoff 144-149.

Sarazen was always generous with his time, as most of the ole timers usually are.  That is changing fast in today’s soundbite world.  I was fortunate to tape record Masters heroes such as Sarazen, Sam Snead, Byron Nelson, Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, and others.  

One day, I asked Sarazen if I could record him, and he was happy to oblige.  We went out onto the balcony of the clubhouse, almost within arm’s length of the Big Oak.   It was mid-morning, calm, quiet, and restful.  He provided great insight and graphic detail about his famous shot, perhaps the most famous in the history of golf.

“Of course, you must remember one thing,” Sarazen said, “the double eagle wouldn’t have amounted to anything unless I had beaten (Craig) Wood the next day (the Masters’ first playoff).  It would have been a double eagle with no feathers on it.”

He was enjoying reminiscing about the shot and admitted that he never tired of recalling his double eagle.

“First of all, I was playing with Walter Hagen, and we were on the 15^th tee and a well-known sportswriter, Joe Williams, was there.  Joe watched us both drive down the 15^th fairway.  All of a sudden, we heard this tremendous roar on the 18^th green.   Craig had holed a long putt for a three.

“With that,” Joe Williams said, ‘Well I have seen enough of you bums.’ and headed to the clubhouse.  As we walked down the fairway, we were talking about everything but golf.  Then we started to add up the scores and my caddy says, ‘You gone have to get all threes from here in, Boss.”

“I says, ‘…is that so, well, we’ll see what we can do.’  Hagen played his drive first because I was a little ahead of him, and then we had quite a debate between the caddie and me.  His name was ‘Stovepipe.’  He was a minister in town.

“Stovepipe says, ‘I don’t think you can carry that with a four wood.  That’s a long shot and you got a close lie there.  Maybe you better hit a three-wood.  I said, ‘No, I can’t get the ball in the air.’  Hagen yells over, ‘Hurry up, I’ve got a dinner engagement.’ So I took the four wood, and I hit it.  And you know, there was no excitement.  Everything was absolutely still.  

“The shot was in the air and the crowd didn’t seem to even see the ball. Then all of a sudden, it hit just short of the green, and it trickled up and down into the hole.  With that, 23 people that were sitting around the hole, jumped to their feet, yelling, and I knew it must have been in the hole because they don’t do that unless the ball goes into the hole.

“Well one of those 23 people was Robert T. Jones.  So, I had great witnesses—I had Hagen and Robert T. Jones as witnesses.”

In my mind’s eye, I can see the excitement in his eyes, the sense of pride on his face and the humility this historical moment gave him.  An oak of a man, Sarazen became a gentleman farmer in Germantown, N.Y. after he retired from the tour.  He lived out his life at Marco Island, Fla., dying at 97.

Furman Bisher arranged for a friend, John Shea, and me to fly to Marco Island in the early nineties to play a round of golf with Sarazen.  He only played nine holes but joined us for dinner and regaled with his memories and golf stories—not a word of profanity, no insults, and no gossip about the tour players of his time.   Gene Sarazen was a rare man in more ways than one.