Golf: Overcoming the greatest handicap

Golf

Overcoming the greatest handicap

There is something especially tragic about a gifted golfer losing an arm. As it happened, Australia’s Jack Newton, who was 72 when he died last month (in April), was only 33 when he accidentally walked into the propeller of a chartered plane in 1983.

Born in Sydney on January 30th 1950, he grew to become an extravagantly gifted sportsman, representing Australia in rugby and cricket as a schoolboy, before a rugby injury prompted him to concentrate on golf.

Prior to meeting him for the first time in Waterville in September 1975, I had been warned that he was a man of few words. And so it transpired.

We happened to be staying in the same hotel and he accepted a lift from me to the golf course during the Kerrygold Classic. Apart from ‘Hi’ and ‘Bye’, the number of words he proffered on the 20-minute journey could have been counted on the fingers of one hand.

Taciturn he clearly was, but a sportsman's build, shaggy blond hair, a warm smile and an ability to enjoy himself, made him extremely popular with both sexes. And he had a golf game to match this appeal.

As geography has ordained for Australians, he found himself obliged to become an international player. And between his professional debut in 1971 and the middle of 1975, Newton had six tournament victories, the Dutch Open, Benson and Hedges Festival and City of Auckland Open in 1972; the Nigerian Open and Benson and Hedges Match-play in 1974 and the Sumrie Better-Ball with Ireland's John O'Leary in May 1975. By then, he was married to his English wife, Jackie. He went to the Open Championship at Carnoustie that year with an irresistible putting stroke, courtesy of the game's greatest player. ‘I picked up something watching Jack Nicklaus in a practice round,’ he explained. Having won some money from Tom Weiskopf in an exhibition match in Australia, Newton challenged the so-called Towering Inferno to get it back. ‘Bring a good partner,’ he teased. So Weiskopf brought Nicklaus while Newton renewed his triumphant Sumrie partnership with Dubliner O'Leary.

After two early birdies, the young Aussie ribbed Weiskopf: ‘We're going to kick your butt, Tom. Better go back to the clubhouse and get a new partner.’ He later suspected the

Dermot Gilleece remembers Australian golfer Jack Newton who died recently

Jack Newton's remarkable acceptance of his fate became one of the most noble of sporting stories. As he remarked philosophically: ‘I had two young kids and a great wife, a great family and the golfing world really got behind me. He returned to golf, playing one-handed to a high standard and got involved in golf-course architecture, quite apart from extensive broadcasting activities and a role as chairman of the Jack Newton Junior Golf Foundation.

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Jack Newton in his prime, competing in the 1975 Open Jack Newton had an expensive lesson challenging Jack Nicklaus Jack Newton successfully partnered with Dubliner John O’Leary, here with Padraig Harrington.

remark was overheard by Nicklaus. In the event, Weiskopf shot 64 while the Bear had a 65 and though Newton far from disgraced himself with a 67, he lost $300.

He claimed to have overheard Nicklaus saying to Weiskopf: ‘Let's teach this young bastard a thing or two.’ Yet afterwards, obviously conscious that the perceived upstart could ill-afford such a loss, Nicklaus, with typical sportsmanship, settled for a sandwich and a drink. ‘I always felt that if I came into a Major with some good form, I could be dangerous,’ Newton said of his various challenges at the highest level of the professional game. ‘That’s the way I played golf. Once I got my tail up I wasn’t afraid of anybody.’ As it happened, he came close, losing a play-off to Tom Watson at Carnoustie and being tied second, four strokes adrift of Seve Ballesteros, in the 1980 Masters at Augusta National. His loss to Watson was especially unfortunate. At one of the game’s most demanding tests, Newton set a course-record 65 in the third round, despite an ongoing ankle injury which was so painful going into the championship that he needed pain-killing injections.

In the final round, he led during the critical back-nine but dropped shots on three of the last four holes. Tied after 72 holes, he and Watson contested an 18-hole play-off the following day. Recalling an epic struggle, Watson said: ‘When we both bogeyed 16, we eventually came to the 18th hole tied once again. I hit first and got it on the green and he hit his shot into the bunker and I thought 'Well, let's see what happens from here.'

‘He played a good bunker shot out to about 12 feet from the hole. I knocked my approach putt about three feet by and to put the pressure on him, I decided to finish, knocking it right into the hole. And he slides his by. And I've won.’ Newton recalled: ‘Two things that day turned out to be the opposite of what the US press had been writing. They'd been saying that Watson was a choker and that he was a suspect putter. But he never looked like missing a putt the whole damn day.’ On Sunday, July 17th 1983, Watson won the Open for a fifth time at Royal Birkdale. It would be his last of eight major triumphs. Exactly a week later on the other side of the world, Newton had attended an Australian Rules match with three friends and was about to board a light aircraft at Sydney Airport for the short flight back to his hometown of Newcastle. It was raining. As the engines idled, the propeller blades whirred, preparatory to take-off. Newton was caught by a propeller. Though the pilot slammed the engines into reverse, it was too late. He lost his right eye, right arm, half his liver and serious quantities of blood. Indeed, but for the skill of a medical team from the Prince of Wales Hospital in Sydney, he might have died. ‘The injuries to his arm and eye were minor, compared to his stomach,’ his wife Jackie recalled. ‘There were the various grieving stages he had to go through for his lost limb, but Jack's attitude was extremely good. Quite an easy patient under the circumstances.’

Newton's remarkable acceptance of his fate became one of the most noble of sporting stories. As he remarked philosophically: ‘I had two young kids and a great wife, a great family and the golfing world really got behind me. So I don't believe I had any choice. I mean I had two choices: I could go and sit in a corner for the rest of my life, or I could get on with it.’ Yet there was almost a palpable sadness in his admission: ‘I'd be a liar if I said I wouldn't mind sticking my arm back on and getting out there amongst it, because I'm a competitive bloke. But I had 14 great years on the tour, had some terrific experiences [including victory in the 1979 Australian Open], and did some things in golf that not too many other people have done.’

He went on: ‘Some people might accuse me of having a warped sense of humour but there was one thing I noticed above all else while I was in rehabilitation for nearly a year, in and out of hospital for various operations. It was that among people in there with brain damage and arms and legs off and all kinds of problems, there was a common thread in that they all maintained a great sense of humour.‘That's a pretty good lesson for everyone. We all seem to take ourselves a bit too seriously, whereas if you can have a laugh and a joke, the world becomes a better place. I actually think it wouldn't be a bad experience for 18-year-olds to spend a day in a rehabilitation place and just see another side of life.’ He returned to golf, playing one-handed to a high standard and got involved in golfcourse architecture, quite apart from extensive broadcasting activities and a role as chairman of the Jack Newton Junior Golf Foundation. Then there is the written word _ ‘bloody difficult, too, with a cigarette and a glass in your only hand.’ In 2007, he was awarded an Order of Australia for services to golf.

When the Open returned to Carnoustie in 1999, Watson and Newton met again close by the 18th green where fate had dealt them sharply contrasting hands 24 years previously. One imagined them sharing some private moments about 1975 and the different roads their lives had taken since then. But both of them insisted that there were no regrets.