The Masters and Goalby Were One In The Same

Roberto De Vicenzo (left) and Bob Goalby at the conclusion of the 1968 Masters.

As a golf writer, I had the privilege of covering the Masters Tournament for many years. Nothing beats a trip to Augusta in early April, but it became especially delightful any time I had the opportunity to visit with Bob Goalby.

He was one of golf’s great storytellers, a truly unique and endearing character, one that is sorely missed on the St. Louis sports scene. I absolutely loved the guy.

One year, I bumped into him under the oak tree at Augusta National and he invited me to lunch. It wasn’t just any lunch, mind you. He took me upstairs in the clubhouse to the room that was reserved for players. As we sat, we talked about 1968 the Roberto De Vincenzo’s scorecard mistake. No sooner had we broached the subject, than Tommy Aaron himself walked up to say hello to Goalby. And they immediately began discussing the scorecard episode, as if it had happened days earlier, not decades.

They talked about De Vicenzo, how such scorecard gaffes happened to him more than once, how Aaron had gotten the score on No. 17 wrong and how De Vincenzo had matter-of-factly signed off on the mistake. Then over came Fred Couples to ask a question, and the principals elaborated. And this fly on the wall sat there, mesmerized. I’ll never forget it.

Goalby passed away at the age of 92 in 2022. From a personal standpoint, the Masters is not quite the same without him. But this column I wrote a few years back is kind of like having lunch with him one more time:

The first April Bob Goalby walked onto the grounds of Augusta National Golf Club, Dwight D. Eisenhower was the country's president and Marilyn Monroe was the centerfold in a new magazine called Playboy.

Goalby has made the trek to Augusta every April since.

“It's one of the special places in America,” Goalby said. “Everybody on the periphery of golf is here, every manufacturer, every architect, every good player … Everybody shows up here the first few days of the week, all under the big oak tree out in the front.”

On Tuesday, Goalby has dinner with members of that most exclusive segment of Augusta National society — Masters champions. The pride of Belleville, Ill., captured his green jacket on April 14, 1968, a day for which he has never enjoyed full props.

The player that received much more attention on that Sunday was Roberto De Vicenzo, after he committed one of the most notorious gaffes in sports history. During that final round, playing partner Tommy Aaron mistakenly credited De Vicenzo with a par on 17, a hole he had birdied. The Argentinean did not catch the error and signed for a 66, though he had shot a 65.

According to the rules, enforced at the time by USGA president and Bellerive Country Club member Hord Hardin, the inflated score stood. De Vicenzo finished at 10-under 278, one stroke behind Goalby, and famously proclaimed, “What a stupid I am.”

Lost in the folly was the special performance by Goalby, then 35. Goalby scored and signed for a 6-under-par 66, which included a three-hole surge of birdie-birdie-eagle at Nos. 13 through 15, a 4-under flourish that drew him even with De Vicenzo.

“I never played that hole as well I should have over the years,” Goalby said of par-5 No. 15. “But on that particular day I did, and that was the time I had to. In our day, that was a little longer hole than it is today, compared to the way the kids play now. They hit it so far today. ”

Goalby's 3-iron from the 15th fairway cleared the water and settled six feet from the flag. After the tournament, he received a letter from Bobby Jones telling him that 3-iron was “one of the finest shots I'd ever seen.”

It was an even better shot in '68. Today's Augusta National is in impeccable condition. A poor lie is almost never a factor. If a player has distance and position off the tee, the par-5s are available. That wasn't necessarily the case in Goalby's time.

“A lot of times people always think the golf course is in perfect condition, and it is now,” Goalby said. “But back in the 1950s and 60s, they over-seeded with rye and it kind of toughened the grass. The ball would kind of nestle down in little spots.

“And it wasn't whether you had a good enough position to cover the distance on the par-5s, it was whether you had a good enough lie to go for it because the lie was kind of scratchy. It was kind of hard to get it airborne over the lake.”

Another critical moment that day came at 18. Playing ahead, De Vicenzo bogeyed the 18th, settling his actual score at 65 and 11-under 277. Goalby needed a par-4 on the final hole to match. But this time, his 3-iron from 195 yards rolled to a stop 45 feet from the flag.

“I knew I had to two-putt to tie, ” Goalby recalled. “And when I looked at the putt, I was looking at about 20 feet of break. It was scary as hell, you know? I had to have a little man-to-man talk with myself. And I just told myself, “Stand up there and hit it .' ”

He did, lagging to four feet and converting to finish his 66. In today's world, Goalby might have used a long-putter to make those nerve-wracking putts. Three of the last five major championship winners have used an anchored putter. But Goalby supports the USGA proposal to ban the anchored stroke.

“I messed around with the anchored putter (as a senior) and used it for about a year,” Goalby said. “But I wish we'd go back the other way. I'm not for it. I don't think it looks like golf.

“I think the guys who are against it are right when they say you should have to work both hands together. When you anchor it, you only have one hand to swing. I hope they change it, but now that the PGA came out against the change, it may be difficult for the USGA to win.”

Goalby was an outstanding athlete growing up. He was an all-state quarterback at Belleville Township High and attended the University of Illinois on a football scholarship, before turning to golf. Goalby turned 84 in mid-March and still plays golf, as he did with a friend on Sunday at Augusta.

And his family continues a close association with the Masters. Between Goalby, his nephews Jay and Jerry Haas, and Jay's son Bill, there has been a member of the family in the field for 44 of the last 53 championships.

“I've had a good life,” said Goalby, who spends winters in Palm Springs, Calif. “Once I started playing golf, it's been nothing but green grass under my feet and sun in my hair. You can't beat that.”

No argument here.