• U.S.

Sport: Ben Comes Back

3 minute read
TIME

The crowd pressed close around the first tee at Los Angeles’ Riviera Country Club. A bare-kneed emcee in kilts and tarn strode forward. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “this is the greatest event in the history of the Los Angeles Open, but I have been requested by Mr. Ben Hogan to introduce him and say nothing else. On the tee—Ben Hogan.”

To the gallery at the Riviera, once known as Hogan’s Alley, there was little more that needed to be said. Everybody remembered Ben’s auto crash last February, how he lay for weeks after that in an El Paso hospital, his pelvis, collarbone, ankle and a rib broken. First it had been a question of whether Ben would live at all, then whether he would ever walk. But a couple of weeks ago, after a few practice rounds in Texas, 37-year-old Ben had made up his mind to come back. The gallery, schooled to remember that “they never come back,” gave him a rolling cheer for heart.

“No Cameras, Please.” Tight-lipped Ben Hogan touched his cap in acknowledgment. He stepped to the tee followed by red-coated marshals and a boy bearing a crudely lettered sign with the inscription “No Cameras, Please.” Ben had warned the committee that he could not play if pictures were snapped while he swung. As he prepared to hit his first competitive shot in a year an amateur movie camera began whirring on the clubhouse steps. Ben frowned, and a shout silenced the camera. Then Ben Hogan sent the ball screaming down the fairway.

Except for a slight stiffness about the hips and a shorter backswing, he looked like the old Hogan. He was one under par for the first nine holes. When his strength began to ebb on the 13th, he leaned against a tree to pull himself together. On the 15th, he glared momentarily at what sounded like another movie camera. When he discovered it was only a lawn mower, he calmly lined up a 30-foot putt and sank it. His first-round score was 73, only five strokes off the pace.

Uphill All the Way. That night he was almost beyond caring how well he had done. He fell into bed so tired he could hardly move a muscle. But Ben was not through. Next morning he showed up again for Round Two.

He developed a troublesome hook, but dug into his bag for brilliant recovery shots. One of his putts curled 60 feet over an undulating green before it dropped into the cup as though pulled by a magnet. On the long 17th he paused wearily and grinned: “You know, I’ve played this hole for ten years and I just realized it’s uphill all the way.” But he fired a brilliant 69, two under par, and moved into third place in the field of 96.

This week, after another 69 in the third-round, Blazin’ Ben moved into the last day’s play in second place, just two strokes behind Tournament Leader Jerry Barber of Pasadena. Coming back had been uphill too, but Ben was back.

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