Strange won two straight U.S. Opens on grit and guts

The last man to win two straight U.S. Opens was Curtis Strange 20 years ago. He was a tough, driven competitor, says Melanie Hauser, and blessed with an absolute belief in what he could do.

By Melanie Hauser, PGATOUR.COM Correspondent

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. -- Everyone’s talking back-to-back. Fifteenth major. Another exclamation point in a career filled with them.

He’s been there twice, but hasn’t done it. Which is why everyone is debating whether this third time will be the charm for Tiger Woods.

Only a few have won U.S. Opens back to back and, yes, Tiger’s latest chance is what has everyone pondering. Betting on. Debating. Hasn’t been done in 20 years and hadn’t been done in 39 years prior to that when Ben Hogan pulled it off.

But before we get wrapped up in what just may unfold at Bethpage Black this week, it’s time to look back at the last man to do what everyone told him he couldn’t do -- Curtis Strange.

The man had Hall of Fame temper, but lord, could he play U.S. Opens.

 He won two of them back-to-back -- at Brookline in 1988 and Oak Hill in 1989 -- then fell short of winning a third. Simply ran out of gas.

 But how many of you remember he was right there in 1987, too? Four back going into the final round at Olympic Club -- Tom Watson was the third-round leader -- and contending  until a friend stopped him at the turn the final and told him to win it for his late father, Thomas. Strange went to the 10th tee with tears in his eyes,  fell apart and finished tied for fourth.

A year later at The Country Club, he kept his emotions in check and won his first Open on pure emotion; the second came on guts. Yes, Oak Hill played into his hands when Tom Kite tripled the fifth hole on the final day, but can you imagine the pressure down the stretch? And the patience he needed to pull it off after struggling in the third round?

Funny, but earlier that week he sat with two reporters in the clubhouse and asked -- seriously -- what all the fuss was about? Why did everyone want to talk about him being the best in the world? Wasn’t talking about a second Open enough?

We told him to take a deep breath and explained why and suggested he simply deal with it. After all, he’d won eight times in the previous three years, which was huge at the time, and he was the defending champ.

Strange was irascible back then. He’d snap your head off, walk off for a minute, then come back, smile and ask you if you wanted a beer. His chili -- as we say in Texas -- was always running hot. Yet when he did explode, he had the patience to overcome those seismic eruptions.

The best way to deal with him was to give it right back. With a laugh. But on the really bad days? It was smart to steer clear. He’d #&^$*@ for a long while, then settle down just long enough to apologize.

He broke his putter on the 13th hole of the opening round in Houston in 1986 -- slammed it on a bridge, then slam-dunked the head in the water -- and putted in with his wedge. I walked up to peek in his bag after he was finished and he groused, “What do you want?”

“Just looking for the survivors,” I said.

We laughed. Sunday afternoon, he won the tournament. We laughed again.

On the course, he was one tough SOB. And he was mean -- as in snarly, growling, scowling, stare-a-hole-through-you mean. He didn’t like to lose and didn’t care if the world knew it. He almost always needed a few minutes to cool down and when he did, he was always brutally -- and refreshingly -- honest.

Off the course? A beer in one hand, a fishing rod in another. Better yet, a friendly boat race on whatever body of water was available. A guy’s guy -- you had his back, he had yours. No better way to while away the hours -- unless there’s a story that just had to be told.

Strange was driven to win. His game was guts and grit and he played it full-throttle. He wasn’t long off the tee, but there wasn’t a better mid-iron player in the game. And when he blew a putt past the hole? You didn’t have to look. The second one was in.

He got our attention in 1985 when he opened with an 80 at Augusta National and almost -- think water on the back nine -- won the Masters. He went for it, lost the tournament and won a lot of hearts.

For two years in the late 1980s, Strange was the best player in the world. Not No. 1 in the rankings -- that was the private property of Greg Norman back in those days -- but the best. He was never ranked higher than third in the world, but that didn’t matter. Other players considered him the best in the game.

He owned what’s now known as the Shell Houston Open, winning it three times -- all in playoffs -- in eight years and beating Lee Trevino (1980), Calvin Peete (1986, Tom Watson finished third)  Norman (1988, Kite finished third). And during a 38-month stretch, he won eight events, including the 1987 NEC World Series, 1988 Memorial Tournament, 1988 Nabisco Championship and those two Opens.

For so long, he was the first name that came after the pause when someone reeled off the top players -- Norman, Seve Ballesteros, Hale Irwin, Watson, Kite, Raymond Floyd and Lanny Wadkins.

Today, you match his record against Tiger’s and shake your head. No way Strange -- a Hall of Famer, we must add -- has won back-to-back Opens and Tiger hasn’t. You swear he couldn’t be as mentally tough. Yet during that stretch, he was.

He three-putted the 71st hole at Brookline, then got up and down out of the sand to force a playoff with Nick Faldo. The next day, he took control with a double-breaking 25-footer at 13 and was up by three shots with one hole to play. He won by four and dedicated it to his father, who died when he was 14.

He had life things on his mind at Oak Hill, but he blocked them out. He stayed close and, after coming from behind to win, he joked, “Move over, Ben.” But really, that win wasn’t about Hogan. It was about what Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer and Watson hadn’t done; about what no one thought he could do. About underestimating a guy whose career was all about guts. He was never afraid to lose. He didn’t have to learn that. The fire was always there.

At Medinah in 1990? He wanted that three-peat bad.  Willie Anderson was the only man to do it -- in 1903, 1904 and 1905 -- and Peter Thomson was the last man to win the same major three consecutive times, winning the 1954, 1955 and 1956 British Opens.

By then, he had mellowed. He walked into press rooms and had one-of-the-guys conversations. The expletives would fly, but hey, that’s just Curtis. He had a knot in his stomach the weeks leading up to Medinah.

“I’ve got one chance to win three in a row,’’ he said that week. “One time. I sure as hell don’t want to start over.’’

Only the strongest survive Opens. Only the best of those win two in a row.  Yet when one of those 20-footers he played with eight feet of break fell into the hole at 17 that Saturday, he was in the hunt. Two behind Billy Ray Brown and Mike Donald with 18 left. He just didn’t have enough left. He finished six shots behind Donald and Irwin, who would win in a Monday playoff.

As fate would have it, Strange wasn’t the same after Medinah. He was inching close to 40 and his game turned cranky. Little did we know he was headed for a Ryder Cup captaincy, the Hall of Fame and ABC’s broadcast booth with Faldo. And now, the Champions Tour.

Strange still peppers his stories with expletives and he’s quick with a laugh and slap on your back. His close friends haven’t changed, guys like Jay Haas who has known him since junior days.

When I look at him now, I still remember those two incredible Opens. The way he played, the guts, the emotion, the quiet moments with him and wife Sarah after the press conferences.

There’s no comparing those to Tiger by a dozen at Augusta or a zillion at Pebble Beach, his emotions at Royal Liverpool or last year’s iconic win at Torrey Pines. Don’t even try. Different people, different time.

Twenty years ago, Strange’s second Open victory didn’t rock the world the way any of Tiger’s 14 have. But what honestly has other than Nicklaus at Augusta in 1986?

Strange didn’t play in today’s 24/7-ESPN-Twitter-Golf Channel-constant news cycle world. He didn’t have cameras on him courtside at the NBA Finals and his practice rounds wasn’t shot over fences on a cell phone. He didn’t have fans pretty much expecting him to win back-to-back. But, trust us, he did feel the same internal pressure.

Strange had absolute belief in what he could do. Tiger has taken it to the next level. And when Tiger wins back-to-back Opens one day -- if not this week, well, we’ll all be there to see it -- he’ll take that to the next level too.

When he does, you won’t have to scramble to figure out how Curtis Strange did what no one thought he could do.

Now you’ll know how.