AUGUSTA, Ga. » As many people as there were waiting for Ben Crenshaw at the 18th green to see his final putt at the Masters on Friday, there were only a handful who witnessed his last swing off the tee.
It was here where Crenshaw could no longer compete with the young guns of the PGA Tour. He striped a good one in the center of the fairway after watching playing partners Bill Haas and Jason Dufner do the same.
But as they approached their golf balls for their second shots, Crenshaw was easily a hundred yards or more behind these two players who weren’t even born when he stayed in the crow’s nest as one of eight amateurs playing Augusta National for the first time in 1972.
"I know I was the same age as this one when I first met him," Haas said, referring to his own young child he was holding in his arms after the round was complete. "My father (Jay Haas) played with Jack Nicklaus in his final appearance at the Masters. He never forgot it. And I’ll never forget seeing Ben Crenshaw play here for the last time."
As Crenshaw exited the tee box, he repeatedly tipped his cap at the fans who began to applaud as he walked by. Different folks shouted out different things, from "Thank you, Ben" to "We love you, Ben" to "Hook ’em, ‘Horns." He accepted each one of them with a gracious wave or a silent "Thank you" that made this last walk toward the clubhouse something special.
What made the moment more magical still were the clouds gathering overhead, the thunder crackling in the distance, a scene reminiscent of "The Natural" when Roy Hobbs knocked the cover off the ball. With a few raindrops falling on everyone’s head, Crenshaw wondered if he’d even make it to the green in time.
He did, and there waiting for the two-time Masters champion was long-time caddie Carl Jackson, too weak from chemotherapy to carry Crenshaw’s bag through the rolling hills of Augusta, but there to embrace him just the same after Crenshaw’s tap-in putt for bogey found the bottom of the cup.
"I love you," Crenshaw said, unabashed by the moment. Jackson told him that he loved him, too.
Was the 68-year-old sad afterward? No, far from it.
"It’s a respectful day," Jackson said, then paused. "There’s nothing sad about it. It’s a day of honor."
The applause that greeted them both could be heard across the course that Bobby Jones designed all those years ago. It matched the roars Crenshaw heard in 1984 and again in 1995 when he slipped into the green jacket. The fortunate few giving him this standing O had their own set of memories of Gentle Ben.
Tears were flowing as Crenshaw embraced family and friends every step of the way. As he ambled toward the clubhouse to sign his scorecard for the last time, a path of people 100 yards long clapped and whistled. He shook hands with some, gave hugs to others and even said at one point to a friend he hadn’t seen in years, "I am overwhelmed. I feel like I won the tournament."
Later in the interview room, he told a throng of reporters he knew well that this was a moment he wouldn’t forget, conceded it was long overdue for him to stop playing here, but said that he’d be around until the day he died wearing his famed green jacket and telling the young ones coming along what an honor it is to be a champion at the Masters.
On Wednesday prior to his curtain call, he had a practice session with Tiger Woods and Jordan Spieth. They played the back nine together and only they know the conversations they had inside the ropes. Three generations of golfers from the young 21-year-old Spieth, to the middle-aged Woods, to the old man Crenshaw, this is what the Masters is about.
Tradition, passing on the torch, the privilege of playing Augusta and the knowledge that when Spieth reaches Crenshaw’s age, he, too, can tell some young man not yet born that he played with two of the greatest golfers ever to swing the clubs. This is what golf brings to the world of sports; its unique perspective of allowing men in their 60s to compete with men in their 20s at the highest level.
You can’t say that about football, basketball, baseball and hockey. Not tennis, nor swimming or any other sport allows the young and old to keep score together.
"I don’t think that I have seen y’all since we had a wonderful champions dinner," Crenshaw said. "It could not have been more special. We had Arnold Palmer, who was pretty emotional that night, but his words to all of us, he basically said how proud he was of all of us in the room, very moving.
"And I tried to keep things rolling. That’s my job. And it was a great discussion. Everybody chimed in. It’s a night of reliving old times for all of us. The old ones want to know what the young ones are doing. The young ones want to know how the old ones won the tournament, who was involved, what decisions they made. It’s fascinating. Sort of bridges the generational gap."
Crenshaw isn’t in the same class as Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer, Gary Player and contemporary Tom Watson. But he held his own against these giants of the game. He also was a student of the history of golf. He can tell you more about the Masters than current green jackets executive Billy Payne. His love for the lore is legendary and his wife reminded reporters of that fact while her husband signed his scorecard and his three children accepted congratulations from those gathered to see it.
"It’s all good," Julie Crenshaw said. "In life, there’s always a next step, and this was the next step. He feels very blessed. There’s this emotional connection like no other here. It’s unbelievable. I love it. I love hearing about it. He makes me watch all those Masters specials, and I think it’s great. It’s in his heart. It will always be in his heart."
Perhaps the most moving moment was an impromptu session of "The Eyes of Texas" patrons started singing along the 17th hole, something that brought a smile to Crenshaw’s face and a quick hook ’em, ‘Horns.
As much as he loves the Masters, Crenshaw embraces the University of Texas even more. How perfect it would be if Spieth — a one-and-done Longhorn who would be graduating in May had he remained in school — was the one fitted for the green jacket on Sunday.
You can’t write this stuff, it just happens.
"I studied this place, a lot of people have," Crenshaw tried to explain before exiting the stage. "They know what’s happened here. And it’s in their minds. A lot of caddies and a lot of players have told other players what happened here over the years, and you’re just, well, God — it’s that kind of place. I’m so thankful. I mean, the people. I will never forget those people today as long as I live."
