IN A chill November wind, Jack Nicklaus stood outside the scorekeeper's tent for an hour and 20 minutes, autographing caps, photographs and scraps of paper for an adoring audience, lined six deep. They didn't seem to care that he had just shot a miserable, third round of 79 to be placed last in the Sarazen World Open. But he cared very deeply indeed.
At 56, Nicklaus abhors the idea of becoming a ceremonial golfer, which is how he was treated by the galleries at Chateau Elan. He felt obliged to point out that: "I just don't play well in cold, windy weather anymore. And it doesn't help when you lose your ball off your drive at the first hole."
By that stage, his decision to accept a special exemption to the 1997 US Open had not been officially announced. In fact it will be his 41st consecutive appearance in an event in which he made his debut as a 17 year old amateur in 1957 and went on to win a record equalling four times.
He was there with Barbara, his wife of 35 years. The success of their relationship clearly has much to do with her close interest in his career. "My father was a schoolteacher and Jack's father was a druggist," she recalled. "We were both in college when we married and Jackie (the eldest of five children) came along before Jack turned professional in 1962. He was working in insurance and we just hoped to live the modest, middle class life our parents had lived."
The former Barbara Bash was also ready for the adjustment when her young husband made the decision to join paid ranks and had his first victory in the US Open of 1962, collecting a winner's cheque for $15,000.
Nicklaus, the tough, relentless competitor, is not often thought of as a generous man, but that is how his friends think of him. For instance, Pandel Savac, who now directs the Memorial Tournament at Muirfield Village, remembers when Jack and Barbara moved into the house next door to him.
"None of us had much money when Jack took me to a pro am in Cincinnati in 1962," he recalls. "Jack shot 63 and won the event and a week later he went hunting and came back to the house with a bag of pheasants. After he left, I pulled the birds out of the bag and down there at the bottom were three $100 bills Jack left for me. Jack's like that."
The theme of friendship prompted me to mention Tim Mahony and his hopes to stage the Ryder Cup at Mount Juliet, where Nicklaus created a greatly admired course. His response was predictably positive. "I think Mount Juliet would be a very fine venue for the Ryder Cup," he said. "There is plenty of space in the old estate and the accommodation is there to house the players. It would be a strong venue. Absolutely."
Warming to the notion, he then inquired:
"When was the last time you had the Ryder Cup in Ireland?" He could hardly credit that it had never been here. "You mean you haven't had one! Then I feel you should push real hard for it," he said.
Staying with the Ryder Cup, I wondered what sort of a captain he believed Seve Ballesteros would make at Valderrama. This, time his response came with a somewhat accusatory look. "You just put a lot into the business of being a captain and I don't happen to agree with that," he said.
"I was captain twice (1983 and 1987), and from what I remember my main concern was that I had a lot of tees, ball markers, towels, gloves and spikes for the shoes and things like that. That's the sort of thing you do. Then you put the pairings together and you go watch them play. It's a great honour, but you don't actually do a lot. Obviously it's fun being part of it, but I honestly don't think it matters all that much who happens to be captain of either side. Everybody tries to do a good job."
He was prepared to concede, however, that 1987 was something of a watershed in the history of the event, insofar as it marked the first European victory on American soil. "Unfortunately I happened to be the captain that year. Still, if you accept that it was bound to happen somewhere, I suppose I'm glad it happened at my course, Muirfield Village.
"We had a good team, but my recollection of the match was that the Europeans showed themselves to be tougher coming down the stretch. It certainly gave them a great boost, which I suppose carried through to Oak Hill last year. Where the future of the Ryder Cup is concerned, I happen to think that was fine.
He talked of his own golf, without any great enthusiasm. "I played a couple of half tournaments this year at Augusta on the first two days and two days at the British," he said. "The US Open was almost competitive, and at the PGA I had been travelling and it was the second day before I shot a good round. I don't seem to have much consistency. Next year I will probably look more towards seniors golf, though that could depend on how many majors I play.
"The hardest part is to get myself ready physically. It is physically, not mentally, that you fall apart. You just go all over the place - and don't think I'm kidding.
"Travelling is a problem. When you're on the road you don't have much discipline. That is the hardest. So I go to a hunting camp, where I've been for the last few days. You can avoid the stuff you enjoy when you're at home. It's terrible, but it's also a good kick start."
Then he talked of Tiger Woods, the astonishing youngster whom Nicklaus suggested could win more US Masters tournaments than himself and Arnold Palmer combined (10). He also sympathised with Woods over the flak the player received for failing to accept an invitation to play in the Buick Challenge at the end of September.
"I remember the first time I did something like that I was 19," he said. "I was playing the US Masters and I wanted to play in the Azalea Open at Cape Fear the previous week. So I called up and said I was Jack Nicklaus, a Walker Cup player, and was there any way I could get into the tournament. The guy said `Yes, we will give you an exemption' and I was to come over."
"But when I went there they didn't give me the exemption and I was ticked off a little bit to discover I had to qualify. So I got through and shot 147 to be 14th after the first two rounds. It was real windy and if I shot 70, 70 for the last two rounds I would have won the tournament, but I said I had to prepare for the Masters. See you later. And `I'm off, thank you very much.
"I was a kid, not much younger than Tiger. Anyway, when I got to the Masters, I was told: `Jack, you can't do that.' `Do what?' I asked. `You can't do that on tour.' So you learn. I haven't done it since. I don't think you will see Tiger do it again. We all go through things we wish we hadn't done."
The time cannot be far off when the great man will call it a day, when a major championship will be played and the most famous name in the game will not be announced on the first tee. The fans will miss him of course, though perhaps not as much as the media, for whom he always seemed to have time, whatever the circumstances.
My experience at Chateau Elan reminded me of the words of Bob Green, the former, long serving golf correspondent of Associated Press, who observed: "Jack Nicklaus was not just the best winning interview; he was the best losing interview there ever was." And that's the true measure of a champion.
