THE mood at Park Meadows Sunday afternoon was optimistic but tinged with nostalgia. That's what happens when you're wondering if you'll ever pass that way again. It was like Michael Jordan at the NBA Finals, everyone straining for one last look at the greatest player ever; like capturing a final view of the old school before the wrecking ball finally swings. You just don't want to let it go.
And so when Isao Aoki landed a 69-foot birdie putt on No. 4 at the Utah Showdown, the crowd let loose. There was a gasp of appreciation, a stirring roar. They had come to see the best golf on the down side of 50 and they weren't disappointed.For his part, Aoki didn't hold back, either. You never know when you're going to be back in the Wasatch Mountains, a slight breeze keeping things cool, and you're going to land a long one. Aoki pulled off his wide-brimmed hat, swung it in an arc, rocked back on one leg and did everything short of a full-body back flip.
It was a moment to remember.
As the day ended, of course, there was talk of Dr. Gil Morgan's win, a rare no-bogey tournament. But that was overshadowed by nagging doubts about the future of the Senior PGA Tour in Utah. By this time next year it could be as quiet in Park City as, well, a Sunday afternoon in Utah.
Though there were brave words about the tour returning, there were also nagging concerns about sponsors. If this sounds familiar, it should. Major league golf in Utah has taken more turns than Lombard Street. It has been the Shootout at Jeremy Ranch, the Showdown Classic, the Franklin Showdown Classic, the Franklin Quest Championship and now the Utah Showdown. It has invented and reinvented itself. At varying times over the years, the tour has threatened to abandon Utah due to lack of a long-term sponsor commitment, as is the case now. But each time someone came through.
Officials have until the end of the month to lock up a long-term, big-bucks sponsor. Otherwise, big-league golf could slip away like a six-foot birdie putt. There is a long list of cities waiting for the privilege to see Morgan or Hale Irwin tear up their courses.
Predictably, the tour has produced its share of thrills in Utah. It isn't easy to forget Tom Weiskopf sinking a 70-foot putt on No. 17 to force a sudden-death playoff in 1994. In 1983, back when it was a junior/senior format, Arnold Palmer and Greg Norman were paired. When Norman made the green on his tee shot at No. 1, Palmer, ever the ambassador, said to the gallery, "What do you think of that? Wasn't that great?" The crowd enthusiastically agreed. Apparently so did Palmer, because the next day he did the same thing.
If it were just a matter of public interest, the Senior PGA's future in Utah would never be a problem. The fans have loved it from the start. It gave them the chance to see legendary stars, up close and personal. In 1996 when Palmer showed up at Park Meadows, one fan was so overcome he said reverently, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Palmer," as Palmer stepped up. The respect was thicker than Tammy Faye Bakker's mascara. Arnie had found his army even extended to the high mountains. It was the biggest love-in since the Beatles hit Shea Stadium.
That sort of love hadn't changed by 1998. On Sunday, when Bob Duval stepped to No. 1, he said to his partners, "OK, guys, we're gonna play a scramble - see if we can catch the Doc." There was loud laughter.
When Morgan ("The Doc") came to the tee, leading by three strokes, someone called out, "The last group said they would have to play a scramble to see if they could beat you." Dave Stockton, who entered the day tied for third, replied, "It won't help."
The fans hooted again in appreciation. Here they were, hoping to see long drives and seeing-eye putts, and ended up getting a decent monologue, as well.
Consequently, with the future of the tournament in doubt, longtime observers were thinking back to when Orville Moody won an eight-hole playoff in the gloaming in 1992. And the year Stockton fired a final-round 63 to win by a whopping nine strokes. And of 1994, when Weiskopf dedicated his victory to golfing buddy Bert Yancey, who had died of a heart attack two days earlier. After winning, Weiskopf wept and looked heavenward from the 18th green to thank his friend.
And so as Charlie Hansen, who has worked volunteer duty for all 17 years of the event's existence in Utah, considered the uncertain future, he smiled. "I don't want to see it go. I've got 17 years out of it. I'd like to at least see 20," he said.
Perhaps he will. But you never know. Because when it comes to house-hunting and professional golf, love is fine, but what you really need is some serious money.