Unlucky Thirteenth: The Hole that Took Down Two of Golf's Titans

Oakmont Country Club's 182 yard, par 3 13th Hole (USGA photo)

Twelve holes into his third round, Bobby Jones could taste victory as if it were already his. The defending national champion had not been particularly sharp this year. Mediocre rounds of 76 and 77 had put him six strokes behind the leader--an unknown from Minnesota named Harrison Johnston--at the midway point of the 1927 U.S. Open. A year of law school had put some rust on his swing, but things finally seemed to be coming around. Everyone in the field, including Jones himself, knew he was down but not out. After all, he had come from six shots behind at the previous year's Open at Scioto, where he turned in scores of 71-73 on the final day to edge out Joe Turnesa by a stroke. With a dozen players bunched within six shots of the lead and thirty-six holes of golf remaining, they all knew that anything could happen.

Jones knew the course, and he knew what he had to do to win. It was at Oakmont that he finished second to home grown Davy Herron in the 1919 U.S. Amateur, and it had been only two years since he defeated Watts Gunn for the title when the Amateur returned to Oakmont in 1925. As he prepared for his round that morning, Jones sensed that 297 would be the number. Two rounds of even par 72, he thought, and the championship would be his. His putter had been saving him all week, but now, as the morning progressed, his shots were beginning to find their mark. He toured the first nine in 37 strokes, just 1-over par, and after a spectacular birdie at the Ghost Hole--the monster par-5 12th--he was within two strokes of the lead as he stood on the tee at the seemingly innocuous par-3 13th. With twenty-four holes to play, he would say later, "I would not have traded places with any man in the field."

Playing this year at 182 yards, the 13th is Oakmont's shortest hole. It is described as a "natural amphitheater," with a kidney-shaped green surrounded on four sides by deep, foreboding bunkers. The green slopes from back-right to front-left, with two sizeable mounds on the right that adversely affect the putts and pitches of anyone going long and right. The hole plays uphill, requiring a well-struck short-to-mid-iron, and is a difficult up-and-down from any of the bunkers or from behind the green.

Much of the talk at Oakmont centers around its penal architecture, it’s famous Church Pew bunkers, and its lightning fast greens. In an era of highlight reel distance made easier by technologically enhanced balls and clubs, holes like the 632 yard 12th and the 289 yard 8th--the longest par 3 in championship golf--get all the attention. The relative short 13th is rarely in the conversation.

As Bobby Jones studied his shot at the 13th, even sportswriter O.B. Keeler thought Jones had the tournament in the bag. In those days, the hole played at 164 yards. It should have been a routine mashie shot for Jones, but this time he pulled it so far long and left that he missed the greenside bunker and landed in one of the ditches lining the hole. He was able to hack it out, but his ball wound up in the bunker, perilously close to the back edge. Forced to shorten his swing, his third swipe barely made it out, settling in the thick grass surrounding the trap. He was able to roll his next shot--his fourth--to about seven feet, but he missed the putt and tapped in for a triple-bogey six.

Exasperated by the sudden turn of events, Jones was able to par the 14th, but he took another six at 15 and a double-bogey 5 at the par-3 16th on his way to a third round score of 79. A 77 in the afternoon gave Jones a 72-hole total of 309, his worst performance ever in a U.S. Open. He had been wrong about his guess of 297 as the winning score. It was actually 301, achieved by Harry Cooper and Tommy Armour, who won the 18-hole playoff the next day. Had Jones simply parred 13, and not lost seven strokes to par in a four-hole stretch, things might have turned out quite a bit differently.

Two-time U.S. Open champion Billy Casper once said, "Golf puts a man's character on the anvil and his richest qualities--patience, poise, restraint--to the flame." The same can be said for short par-3s. Golf architects will tell you there are benefits to short holes. They compliment the longer holes and often equalize course demand and scoring. Shorter holes justify difficult pin positions, which call for extreme precision--a contrast to so many longer shots on the course--and there is often a significant disparity between high and low scores on shorter holes during competition. In an interview for Golf Course Architecture, course designer Ron Forse related his love for short holes: "I really think a golf course is incomplete and not well-rounded without a hole where anyone can make a birdie or a six." Short par 3s can serve as a springboard, like when Ben Hogan drained a 25-footer for birdie at the 13th on his way to winning the '53 Open at Oakmont. They can also bring down giants.

Oakmont's 13th came into play twice during Arnold Palmer's showdown with Jack Nicklaus at the 1962 U.S. Open. The first time was when Palmer, leading Nicklaus by one in the final round, put his tee shot in the bunker and took bogey to fall back into a tie with the Golden Bear. Nicklaus went on to match Palmer shot-for-shot the rest of the way, forcing an 18-hole playoff the next day.

The coup de grace came in the playoff. "That was when (Palmer) blew it," said sportswriter Oscar Fraley, "no matter what he said about his imprecise putting." Down by four strokes as he finished the 8th, Palmer went on a charge, birdieing three of the next four holes, and was only one shot behind Nicklaus when he got to 13. Facing a 161 yard shot, Palmer reached for his 5-iron and held it pensively for a moment. Whether it was a gust of wind or just plain uncertainty, he never said, but he returned it to his bag. Choosing instead to try a soft 4-iron shot, he stroked it forty feet past the flagstick--a big no-no at 13--and three-putted for bogey. It was a momentum-killer that gave Nicklaus a two stroke lead and would prove too tough to overcome as Nicklaus defeated Palmer to win the first of his 18 major championships.

Lost in the brilliance of Johnny Miller's Miracle at Oakmont in 1973, the 13th was quietly responsible for a two-stroke swing when Miller laced a 4-iron to within five feet of the cup and holed it for his eighth birdie of the day on his way to winning the Open with a record-breaking 63. Playing in the penultimate group alongside Arnold Palmer, third round co-leader John Schlee made bogey at 13 and went on to finish at minus-4 in solo possession of second, a single stroke behind Miller. The 13th dealt another jab to Palmer that day, producing the second of three consecutive bogeys at 12, 13, and 14, that took him out of contention for the title. Palmer, who had also shared the third round lead, would go on to finish at 2-under par, three strokes behind Miller.

Over the past couple of Opens at Oakmont, the 13th has taken its lumps. In 2007, it played as the easiest hole relative to par, and in '16 it was the third easiest. However, after Gil Hanse's recent renovation of the iconic inland links, things could turn out differently this year. While the course is not particularly long by today's standards--at 7,372 yards, it will play to a par 70--its greens will always provide a sure and stalwart defense. In preparation for this year's Open, Hanse has restored over 24,000 feet of green surface throughout the course, and the 13th has been a beneficiary. Hanse removed soil build-up around the green's edges, allowing the right side of the green to funnel into a bunker. High rough in back of the green and new contours will also contribute to making the hole much more strategic. The changes have provided more options for pin locations, including a new one on the back-right that sits in the middle of a bowl, rewarding a good shot but making the hole inaccessible from any other part of the green. It should help the hole continue to live up to H.C. Fownes's oft-repeated mantra that "a shot poorly played should be a shot irrevocably lost."

Sam Snead once said of Oakmont, "You gotta sneak up on these holes. If you clamber and clank up on them, they're liable to turn around and bite you." While the media hype has understandably been focused on the 290 yard 8th, both players and spectators would do well not to overlook the 13th. As history has proven, she may be little, but she can be fierce.

Evening Press, Portland, ME, August 16, 1927–Newspapers.com