competition is mostly friendly Nassaus now. “We try to
get our games in shape coming into this thing,” said Larry
Mowry, “to pick two days out of the year to get hot.”
What becomes clear is that these men possess an
innate golf sense that may dissipate but doesn’t disap-
pear with age. And thanks to today’s equipment being
so vastly different from the gear of their heyday, some
are able to swing the driver fast enough to hit tee shots
240 yards and more. As much as modern technology has
helped the average golfer, the biggest beneficiary has
been the elderly expert.
“Now they play a game I don’t know anything about,”
January said of current tour pros. “We played a game
with a wooden head and a big ol’ steel shaft in it. We
tried to get the ball on the face as long as possible. Now
it’s just the other way around. The kids playing now
have a wonderful amount of talent, but they don’t play
the same game we played. I think it’s just different. Like
evolution, things turn over. Sometimes they get better,
sometimes they don’t.”
Although there was high-tech equipment in the bag of
every Demaret division entrant, there were also some
vintage touches. Charles Coody, 74, reckons his Spalding
blade putter, which he used to win the 1971 Masters, is
probably as old as he is. Snead, Sam’s nephew, secured
victory for his team by hitting a classy, 25-yard pitch shot
with a throwback 56-degree sand wedge to within six
inches for a birdie on the first extra hole.
“I don’t even have a 60-degree,” J.C. said. “Sam said if
you had a 60 degree in your bag, you didn’t have any tal-
ent. I never had much talent, but I never had a 60 degree.”
One of the masters of the wedge, 76-year-old Gary
Player, used his still uncanny short game to team with
Simon Hobday and shoot a second-round 61. Dressed in
all black, Player had a 66 on his own ball. It was a mighty
impressive round, but was surpassed by Beard’s play on
the second day. The 72-year-old broke his age by 11 shots
as his team carded a 60. “Frank Beard played absolutely
flawless,” said Trevino. “We ran into a buzz saw.”
The vagaries of the game showed up when Trevino was
on the greens, where he struggled to make a putt and
missed a two-footer on No. 10 the second day. “I told my
partner I didn’t know how he was playing with this 195
pounds on his back,” Trevino said. “I got myself a little set
of the yips with the putter. I’m going to get me a belly
putter and learn how to putt. I’ll probably learn how to
putt with it, then they’ll make it illegal.”
Beard’s overall game, which he usually flexes four
days a week at The Palms in La Quinta, Calif., was excel-
lent for 36 holes. “This was the best I’ve seen him play
in a while,” Michael Beard said. “There’s something in
there.” But a poor wedge on the first hole of the playoff
sabotaged his effort. After a perfect tee shot not far
behind Snead’s, Beard’s pitch checked up 45 feet short
of the flagstick. “I just didn’t hit it,” Beard said. “I was
planning to play a lower shot that would skip a little and
didn’t hit it.”
Snead had presaged his pin-seeking playoff wedge
with a similar shot to tap-in range on the 16th hole. On
the 18th he sank a 12-foot birdie putt to give his team a
back-nine 28 and a tie with Beard-Ziegler. “At one time,
we were four shots down,” said Gilbert. “We just kept
plugging along.”
With his son at the wheel of the cart, Beard was quiet
on the quarter-mile ride back to the clubhouse after
the brief playoff was over. He had gotten in position
and hadn’t finished the job. After all these years, it still
mattered. n
