At Oakmont in 1973, Johnny Miller posted what many believe to be the greatest final round in major championship history.
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On June 17, 1973, at Pittsburgh-steel-tough Oakmont CC, 26-year-old Johnny Miller, houndstooth-clad and golden-maned, posted what many consider to be the greatest final round in major championship history, an eight-under 63 to win the 73rd U.S. Open.
Fifty years later, it’s still the stuff of legend. Looking back on that day, even Johnny thinks so.
(Taken from previously published interviews with GOLF.)
There were some omens that week — some mystical stuff happening. Before a practice round, I found a letter in my locker — no name or return address. It said, “You’re gonna win the U.S. Open.”
Later, a women came up to me and said, “I predict things, and I’m never wrong. You’re gonna win the U.S. Open.” Then comes Saturday. I was six over through eight holes. That lady? I went looking for her. I wanted to tell her, “You were wrong! I’ve blown it!”
I was really disappointed that Sunday morning. I was six strokes back and looking at names like Weiskopf, Boros, Nicklaus, Player, Palmer and Trevino on the leaderboard. I had no chance. But, on the range, I heard this voice say, “Open your stance way up.” The voice was so clear. I opened my stance and hit the last three [practice] balls pretty good. Who tries a new tip on Sunday at the U.S. Open? I figured I was out of it, so what the heck.
On No. 1, I hit 5-iron to five feet. On No. 2, I hit an 8-iron to six inches. I made a 15-footer on No. 3 and almost eagled No. 4. I think, Jeez, I’m only two or three back. I’m in this!
I hit 13 out of 14 fairways that day,and 10 approach shots to within 15 feet and six inside 10. In addition to opening my stance, I used a light grip pressure that week and made extra-slow backswings. I mean really slow, then pausing at the top as soon as I felt my left shoulder hit my chin. I never rushed my transition.
I hit every green in regulation, too, and aimed away from the pin only three times. My iron swing was so on that even danger pins became green-light situations. I felt I couldn’t be stopped.
The drive I hit on the last hole was special. [That shot] is difficult. Instead of babying it, I took my driver way back, paused and hit it as hard as I could, dead center. It was the longest drive of the day by anybody.
People forget that I lipped out on 18. I mean, that round could have been a 62. I teed off more than an hour before the leaders, which included Arnie. I later heard that after missing a putt on 11 and walking toward the 12th tee, Palmer said, “Johnny Miller? Where the blankety blank did he come from?”
Shooting a 63 in a major has been done since, but only me and Henrik Stenson [2016 Open Championship] did it in the final round to win. I was on cloud nine — I had gone from being one of the game’s young lions to something much more. But it was 1973 and only my third Tour victory—no private jet waiting for me. Fine. I’ve watched thousands of rounds, and the best round ever, in my opinion, was mine. It’s my signature moment.
The next year, at the 1974 Open at Winged Foot, the USGA set the rough at nine inches tall. The toughest I’ve ever seen. You couldn’t advance the ball more than 90 yards from the deep stuff. Hale Irwin won it at seven over. I took abuse from players for years. They blamed me for the brutal conditions. Guys would say, “Thanks a lot for that stinkin’ 63, Miller.” To this day, “You’re welcome.”