Almost nine strokes gained tee to green
n 2014, David Barrett of Golf World determined that, by applying ShotLink’s “strokes gained tee to green” metric retroactively, Miller’s round is the standard for ball-striking over 18 holes. Based on the distances his approaches finished from the hole, Miller gained 8.90 strokes on the field tee to green, better than the 8.71 Jim Furyk achieved in his 59 at the 2013 BMW Championship. “That was nice to hear,” says Miller, letting the finality of empirical data speak for itself.
Among the other 63s in majors that have been rated, Norman’s opening round at the 1996 Masters is the next-best in strokes gained tee to green (6.71). In golf history, Norman has the most impressive collection of low rounds in majors, his two 63s joined by three 64s (two of them in the last round, both of them in the Open Championship).
“I was an extremely good driver of the golf ball, so I’d hit that club where others wouldn’t and put myself in positions where I could be really aggressive,” Norman says. “At the same time, my short game gave me a cushion when I shot at pins. All that was more pronounced in majors.”
Norman prefers his second round at Turnberry in 1986, when he won his first of two Opens. On a gray and blustery day in which the average score was over 74, Norman missed only one green and hit both par 5s in two to shoot 63. He has no regrets about charging his first putt on the 18th.
“I thought I was going to make the putt, which was the thinking that got me so far under par,” he says. “I didn’t think about my score on the second putt, I just missed it.” Still, the failure to properly finish off such an otherwise supreme effort could be considered a microcosm of Norman’s career.
All non-winning 63s are unsung, but the most consequential and dramatic among them belongs to Faxon in the final round of the 1995 PGA at Riviera. Faxon began the day focused on the low number he would need to finish in at least a tie for sixth, which would give him enough points to make the U.S. Ryder Cup team in the final qualifying round.
With an inspired attitude and using a confident sensation of connection at the top of his swing that he’d worked on with David Leadbetter, Faxon played the front nine in 28, tying the all-time nine-hole score for a major, set by Denis Durnian at the 1983 Open at Royal Birkdale. Faxon hit the first 17 greens and putted even more brilliantly than normal despite the three misses from short range. After a mediocre chip on the 18th hole, he faced a curling 12-footer he figured he had to have.
“I think the Ryder Cup definitely took away any pressure from shooting 63,” says Faxon, who finished fifth to make the U.S. team. “The ball and the sweet spot on my putter just sort of melted together, and I poured it in.” comparing a 62 to a 63 o one interviewed for this story expressed any doubt that 62 (or lower) will be shot in a major relatively soon. But Faldo, for one, says he hopes the score lasts through his lifetime. “I’m very proud that I finished off my 63 with one of the best 2-irons of my life, from 210 yards,” he said of his final shot in the second round at St. George’s in 1993. “Today that’s a 5- or 6-iron for these guys. I feel like I played in an era when the challenge was greater, and that will be easier to forget if the number goes lower.”
At the same time, all acknowledged that the main reason the scoring barrier has existed so long is because major-championship setups have continued to get more difficult, ostensibly to keep up with the progress of modern golf, marked by increased distance, improved technique, more aggressive playing style and deeper fields. Golf has the ability to change the playing field more than any other sport.
As statistician Lucius Riccio, a professor of analytics at Columbia University, says, “In baseball, the fences have stayed the same or been moved in. In golf, we move the fences back.”
The USGA’s Mike Davis and Kerry Haigh, who is in charge of the setup for the PGA Championship, acknowledge there is an ever-smaller margin of error in finding the balance between sufficiently challenging the players and making the course unfair. Both say they would applaud the first 62 in a major, but Davis adds that although he isn’t trying to prevent scores of 63 or lower, he doesn’t want a U.S. Open setup to invite them, either. “Many years after Johnny shot his 63 at Oakmont, I asked P.J. Boatwright [longtime USGA executive director of rules and competitions] if the very difficult setup the next year at Winged Foot was a direct reaction to that round,” Davis says. “P.J. smiled and said, ‘Well, I can tell you this: After that, we weren’t trying to make the golf courses easier.’ ”
Riccio identified some conditions that would make a 62 in a major more probable:
A wet day at the PGA Championship, which has given up the most 63s (13). A windless round at an Open Championship. A first-time major venue (like Erin Hills at next year’s U.S. Open), where difficulty could be overestimated.
The first or second round rather than the more pressurised weekend (or, if on the weekend, by someone toward the back of the pack). A par 70.
Of course, none of these conditions existed for Miller. Which is why as the years go by, his satisfaction with the round grows.
“I knew I had something special, but I hadn’t quite gotten it out,” he says. “When you finally manage to play golf the way you know you can under great pressure, that’s what feels the best, that’s what changes you as a player, that’s what stays with you. That was the best round I ever played, and, I gotta say it, the best round I ever saw.”
No brag, just fact. Miller’s stands as the finest round of golf ever played. When the first 62 in a major is finally shot, may it be as good as the first 63. 2016