Golf: Take That, You People's Choice

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What's wrong with Arnold Palmer? Nothing, that's what.

But to see Palmer, fidgety and tense, at the start of last week's Masters, nobody could have guessed it. By his own admission, Arnie was in an awful slump.

True, he won a record $128,230 last year. But that was only money; and with $400,000 a year rolling in from assorted outside businesses, who needs it? Prestige was what Palmer was after, and he was not getting any.

The closest he came to winning a ma jor championship last year was a play off loss to aging Julius Boros in the U.S. Open, and he had not won a tournament of any sort in six months. "I've been playing like a Yo-Yo," he complained. "It's my concentration; I can't seem to keep my mind on the game." Or maybe it was nerves: on doctor's orders, Palmer had quit smoking, gained 8 Ibs., and felt like climbing the walls. Whatever it was, it was downright embarrassing. Here he was at the Masters, a tournament he had already won three times before, and everyone's choice was Jack Nicklaus. Worse yet, some people rudely suggested that Arnie, at 34, was over the hill. "Palmer?" sneered a fellow pro. "He can be had."

Over & Around. Not last week. Two days of rain washed out most of the practice rounds, but on opening day, the Georgia dogwood glistened in a warm spring sun, and the pros responded by giving the tough old Augusta course the worst first-day flogging in its history. In all, 15 players broke par (72), and at day's end five were deadlocked for the lead with 69s. One of them, of course, was Palmer. "Uninteresting," he called his round. Another was South Africa's Gary Player, despite an attack of tonsillitis that left him croaking like a bullfrog. And what of Nicklaus, the defending champ, the people's choice? He settled for a one-underpar 71—not bad, considering that the longest putt he sank all day was a seven-footer. "The ball went over the hole and around the hole," he muttered, "but never into the hole."

That, as it turned out, was the closest anybody came to beating Palmer. More than any other top golfer, Palmer is a captive of his own emotions: when he feels good, he plays good—even if he does not look good doing it. He twists himself into a pretzel on the putting green. He almost falls down on the tee. He follows through—ah, but no matter! On the second day, Arnie showed up relaxed and smiling, and shot a 68 that gave him a four-stroke lead on the field and seven strokes on Nicklaus. "It's beginning to look like we're playing for second place," grunted one straggler.