LOS ANGELES – Johnny Miller was behind the microphone one more time.
On Wednesday, on the eve of the 123rd U.S. Open at LACC, the occasion was to talk about receiving the Bob Jones Award, the USGA’s highest honor. Miller, 76, who won two USGA titles in a Hall of Fame career and retired as lead analyst for NBC Sports in 2019, has made few public appearances in recent years.
“I’ve been sort of not available for press things since I retired, and just wanted to sort of walk away like ‘Dandy’ Don Meredith. Remember how he walked away? I was like, that’s cool,” Miller said, referencing the former Dallas Cowboys quarterback turned ABC Monday Night Football announcer.
But this was different. Given his accomplishments in the game and the way he became equally beloved and hated for his announcing, Miller fields numerous requests to be honored and given awards and usually turns them down. But the Bob Jones Award celebrates more than performance on the course; it recognizes an individual who demonstrates the spirit, personal character and respect for the game exhibited by Jones, the winner of nine USGA championships.
“I thought Bobby Jones might have been the greatest golfer ever,” Miller said. “A lot of people go to other players like Tiger Woods and Jack Nicklaus, but when you think of what he was able to accomplish in his 20s, it was crazy. He was amazing. I was sort of always a fan of Bobby Jones. I thought he was a gentleman’s champion. Really just an amazing person.”
Family ties
And so Miller attended a dinner ceremony on Tuesday evening and received a standing ovation when he finished speaking. He admitted he became emotional, realizing that this might be his final public bow in a career worth celebrating. The part that brought him to tears was hearing his son, Todd, speak, recounting the trip he made to Oakmont in 2016, his first visit to the famed Pennsylvania club since his father won there in 1973 and shot his record 63.
“We’re really tight, the two of us, and he made me sort of break down, in a nice way,” Johnny said. “I don’t mind breaking down if it’s from the heart.”
On the Monday morning after Dustin Johnson claimed the 2016 U.S. Open, Todd recounted how he played Oakmont and as he marched down the first hole he felt a closeness to his dad.
“I never felt those emotions before on the golf course,” he said.
About that final-round 63
Oakmont is hallowed ground for Johnny. It’s where in the final round of the 1973 U.S. Open he erased a six-stroke deficit to win his first major with a remarkable 63 that was voted the greatest round of the 20th century.
“I shot it on Sunday and it was enough to win the U.S. Open. There will be guys that will shoot 61 or 62, but can they do it on Sunday to win? That’s what makes the round what it is,” Miller recalled.
Fifty years have come and gone since that fateful day but Miller’s memories are tattooed to his brain. His recall of that round is remarkable.
“I knew after four holes,” he said. “I was six strokes back and I birdied the first four holes and I knew that I was in the running. The hair on the back of my neck sort of stood up when I said that to myself: ‘You’ve got a chance to win.’ That made the adrenaline just start pumping.”
He still bites his lip at the memory of his 3-putt at the eighth hole, the lone blemish on his scorecard that day.
Johnny Miller’s shoes and 10-iron from the ‘73 Open at Oakmont. pic.twitter.com/8mMAun0095
— Eamon Lynch (@eamonlynch) June 14, 2023
“After I three-putted I went from sort of choking to getting a little bit mad,” Miller recalled. “Not mad where I’d throw a club, but mad like what the heck are you doing, man? It was like, you’ve got a chance to win the U.S. Open and now you’re missing these short putts.”
He settled down and birdied 8 and added three more circles on the card at Nos. 11, 12 and 14.
“I still didn’t know if what I was doing was going to be good enough to win, so I still had the gas pedal down,” he said.
He lipped out for birdie at 17 on the high side. At 18, he swung with all his might.
“I guess I hit the longest drive of the day on 18 and then hit an iron shot that I mean, you couldn’t see the flag from the ball when it landed,” he said. “It hit the top of this little ridge instead of hopping up which would have put me like within five feet of the hole. It stopped and then rolled back down the hill, and I hit this putt and it went down in the hole on the high side, down in the hole and kind of came out.
“So, you know, it wasn’t like I shot 63 by holing out a bunker shot or chipping it in from off the green or by making a 60-footer or even a 40-footer or even a 30-footer. It was just a great round of golf. … it was like somebody was helping me up there. It was not a normal round.”
The ‘choke’ factor
As an announcer, Miller was anything but a run-of-the-mill analyst. He revolutionized the role.
“It’s not like I just lollygagged around and see how wonderful everything is. It was always like I put myself out there,” he said. “The greatness of golf is the choke factor. I don’t care if you’re playing for a milkshake or $5 Nassau or whatever. The greatness of golf is whether you can make that putt to win, and to ignore that is sort of missing the greatest part of golf, no doubt. Nobody wanted to talk about it.”
Only on the subject of his family did Miller get choked up, his eyes red and glassy. For one hour, Miller had the microphone again. If it is his last public appearance, he did it once more with feeling.
