Word: fairways
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Helpful Spectator. The third day belonged to Player. His walloping drives carried a country mile down the fairway, his irons were crisp, his approaches deadly, his putting sure. When a tee shot went awry on the 9th hole, he sliced a spoon shot out of deep woods 250 yds. to the green. On the 520-yd., par-five 15th, his second wood overshot the green, but a spectator batted it back. "You people around here," grinned Player, "treat us foreigners very well." With a sparkling 69, Player became the first in Masters history to stay under 70 for the first...
Unlucky 13th. After that came the unlucky 13th, a par-five, 475-yd. hole. Player's tee shot sliced into heavy woods at the right of the fairway. Impatiently, Player tried to bend a No. 2 iron shot around the trees, smothered his ball, sent it scuttling into a creek. He dropped out, took a one-stroke penalty, missed a 4-ft. putt, and scored an appalling double-bogey seven that left him tied with Palmer Shaken, Player fluffed a simple, 3-ft. puti on the 15th, dropped a stroke behind Staggering through a sand trap on the 18th...
...President swung smoothly but hooked badly; the ball carried about 150 yds. and plunked down in an adjacent fairway. On a second try, Kennedy's drive sailed higher and farther-but again, into the wrong fairway. Later, word got around that still another presidential shot had pinked the pate of a Secret Service agent standing guard in the rough. (During the previous Administration, Secret Servicemen evolved a theory that the safest place for them when John Eisenhower was swinging was in the middle of the fairway...
...recent Kennedy opponent at Palm Beach. "But an awful lot of negotiation goes on before the clubs start swinging. He works out the best possible arrangement before he makes a move." Between shots, Kennedy normally appears carefree, needling his partners with sharp quips. But last week his fairway stroll frequently turned serious as Press Secretary Pierre Salinger or Army Aide Brigadier General Chester V. Clifton rushed to the course with reports on affairs of state...
...more hazardously placed than at right angles to my line of fire, my vision blurred, my knuckles went white, my breathing became irregular, and I was unable to look in the President's direction. Some how I hit the ball about 170 yards and happily lurched down the fairway, content with the greatest social triumph of my White House days...