Time to Cross That Bridge

He’s 65, his game isn’t close to what it should be to contend in any tournament, much less a major, and Jack Nicklaus has decided that when he shows up at St. Andrews for the British Open, the Old Course will continue what has been an old story in golf.

At some point, you have to quit. Now it’s Nicklaus’ turn, and he has chosen to say goodbye to major championship golf at what is probably the game’s most historic course, where he won two of his three British Open titles.

It’s a perfect place to wrap it up. For anyone who was there 10 years ago and witnessed the scene when Arnold Palmer played his last Open Championship, paused as he strolled across the Swilcan Bridge on his way to the 18th green on Friday, doffed his cap and smiled and waved, it was a scene not soon forgotten.

Nicklaus will surely receive the same sendoff, and that’s the natural progression. If Palmer made it popular for U.S. players to play the British Open en masse when he won back-to-back in 1961 and 1962, it was Nicklaus who set the standard of excellence. Not only did he win three times -- in 1970 and 1978 at St. Andrews and in 1966 at Muirfield -- he was a seven-time runner-up.

The week after next, it will be Nicklaus’ turn to stop on the bridge, turn and remove his cap, wave and pose for pictures, then be showered with applause by all the people who will fill the windows in the old, gray stone buildings that line one side of the 18th fairway.

The cheering has to stop and a career must come to an end, although Nicklaus has been dropping hints he may continue to play his own Memorial tournament on the PGA Tour until he’s ready to quit entirely. When he crosses that particular bridge, it’s probably going to be an emotional moment, but Nicklaus must realize that he’s not alone.

In fact, he’ll be in good company ... the best.

Maybe he’ll remember how some of the greats who went before him bowed out.

The most famous golfer of all time left quietly, but so did a select Hall of Fame group of those who would follow.

Bobby Jones was 46 when he played his last competitive round in 1948 at the Masters, the tournament he originated with Clifford Roberts in 1934.

Jones, a lifelong amateur, was 50th in a field of 54 that played all four rounds. He shot 76-81-79-79 for a 27-over par total of 315. There was no cut at the Masters until 1957. Claude Harmon won by five shots over Cary Middlecoff in Jones’ farewell.

Later that year, Jones was diagnosed with syringomyelia, a rare and degenerative disease of the central nervous system. He never played another competitive round and was wheelchair-bound when he died at 69 in 1971.

Byron Nelson said his last competitive tournament was the 1955 French Open, which he won, but after he all but retired after the 1947 Masters, Nelson continued to play the Masters and the Colonial through 1966.

That year, Nelson was 54 when he missed the cut at the Masters. And at the Colonial in May, he shot a 75 in the first round and withdrew. That was his last round.

At 93, Nelson lives in Roanoke, Texas, with his wife, Peggy, and drives his golf cart around his ranch as he recovers from two broken ribs caused by a fall in his bathtub.

Gene Sarazen found a unique way to hang up his sticks -- he was 71 at the 1973 British Open when he scored a hole in one at Royal Troon’s famous 126-yard eighth hole, called the Postage Stamp. Sarazen’s 79-81 was 16 over par, and he missed the cut, but he finished ahead of 13 golfers.

From 1984 to ‘99, Sarazen, Nelson and Sam Snead were honorary starters at the Masters. Sarazen died in May 1999, at 97.

Snead’s last PGA Tour event was the 1983 Sammy Davis Jr. Greater Hartford Open. He was 61. Snead’s last competitive round on any tour was a senior tour event in Miami in November 1987 when he was 65. He had rounds of 81-78 and withdrew.

Snead died at his home in Hot Springs, Va., on May 23, 2002, six weeks after hitting his last tee shot as a ceremonial starter of the Masters and four days short of his 90th birthday.

Ben Hogan’s last competitive round wasn’t even a complete one. In May 1971, a 58-year-old Hogan played 12 holes of the Houston Champions International at Champions Golf Club, then told his caddie to pick up his ball. Hogan was 11 over through 11 holes.

Hogan said goodbye to his playing partners, Dick Lotz and Charles Coody, then rode back into the clubhouse in a cart, his head down and his arms crossed. Hogan died in 1997, three weeks short of his 85th birthday.

If there is a common thread among this group, it’s that each left quietly, a tactic that in a media-driven society is no longer possible. Palmer showed how it’s done on the Swilcan Bridge, and now it’s Jack’s turn to wave goodbye. He should enjoy the moment, because no one will forget it.