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The U. S. Open is not supposed to be something easy to win; inherent in its challenge are adversity and stress.  If you want an easy track, stay away from Oakmont and ply your time at some Muni in some obscure, no-name town.

Nowhere is there a greater test of golf than at Oakmont when the United States Golf Association narrows the fairways, and with cooperation from the weather, conditions the greens to where competitors wonder if they are putting on glass.   Rains softened the course last weekend but majestic Oakmont, nonetheless, kept red numbers off the scoreboard.

That is why tight fairways with greens so fast that a Stimpmeter is in shock are expected to be the norm at the annual championship, making pars something sacred.

When the USGA has the opportunity, it prefers to see a competitor who is a consummate craftsman in the winner’s circle rather than a bomber although long knockers who are accurate off the tee do have an advantage in Open competition.

It didn’t hurt that Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods coupled accuracy with distance to win their seven Open championships, Jack four and Tiger three.  Ben Hogan was never referred to as a bomber, but he was long enough to compete with the best and on any golf course.   What set him apart, however, was his remarkable accuracy.

Hogan won four Opens and lost one in playoff.  He also won the Hale America Open.  The USGA gave him a gold medal for that win as the U. S. Open champion.  Counting that championship, he is a five-time winner of our national championship.

Bob Ford, the longtime head professional at Oakmont, recalled earlier this week, the controversy at the 1953 Open at Oakmont when the club’s furrowed bunkers caused tour players to threaten to boycott the Open.  The issue was solved when officials agreed only furrow bunkers around the green. 

Ford and Oakmont officials made a trip to Ft. Worth in 1991 regarding the upcoming women’s Open which was to be played at Oakmont.  Ben Hogan came to a cocktail party organized for the Oakmont visitors.  The subject of the 1953 Open, which Hogan won at Oakmont, came up.  That was the year the club, famous for its furrowed bunkers, experienced a near revolt from the players who were against bunker furrowing.  A compromise was struck.  Only the greenside bunkers would experience furrowing.  Ford remembered someone asking Hogan about the furrowed bunkers and he said, “I don’t know, I was not in ‘em.”  That is how you win an Open championship.  Stay out of trouble and nobody has ever been better at that than Hogan.

Even with soft greens the winning total, by J. J. Spaun, was one-under-par, 279.  “It was an epic Open,” Ford said Monday after the tournament.  We couldn’t be happier here at Oakmont.” 

Any reference to Oakmont, brings about a review of the contribution of Bill Griffin, who grew up in Rutledge—30 miles south of Athens—and was a member of the chainsaw gang at Oakmont (there were nine principals). This group met and decided that the golf course was far from what founder Henry C. Fownes wanted it to be—essentially the hardest course in the country.

A tree planting campaign to beautify Oakmont completely changed the character of the golf course.   Knowing how controversial it would be, they arranged for a tree cutting plan which took place under the cover of darkness.

“We took out a thousand trees, before we got caught,” Ford says.  “Eventually,” Griffin adds, “we took out 15,000 trees and the course has retained its original look.”   The most interesting thing about that is that Bill Griffin is the most non-controversial person you will ever meet.

The fact that he was President of Oakmont six consecutive years underscores how well this soft-spoken Georgia boy was received in the Pittsburgh community and especially at Oakmont.

“Bill is a gentleman that everybody respects,” Ford says.  “He loves the game of golf and was able to provide leadership that was great for our golf club.  The people at the USGA hold him in the highest regard.”

Growing up in Rutledge, a half hour away from the University of Georgia campus, he learned to play golf at the Monroe Country Club and became an aficionado of the Athens Country Club’s Donald Ross layout.

When business brought about residency in Pittsburgh, he had become a seasoned player who could hold his own in friendly competition.  With Latrobe, only 40 miles away, he got to know Arnold Palmer, whose game he had admired when he followed him at the Masters while Bill was a student at UGA.  He and his buddies followed Arnold religiously, sleeping in their car at a Texaco station across the street from the Augusta National Golf Club.

Little did he know he would some day be invited to join Augusta and become friends with Arnold, playing with him a half dozen times over the years.  While Bill did not enjoy Arnold’s celebrity, he certainly was similar in lifestyle and personality in that he really enjoyed people and could relate to everybody which has boded well for the University.

He has raised millions of dollars for his beloved alma mater and the beat goes on.  His work with Aruna, the brainchild of Dr. Steve Stice, is a clinical-stage biotech company that is developing neural stem cell-derived exosomes to threat stroke and other central nervous system diseases.

I cannot think of a more accomplished fundraiser ever at UGA and his love and devotion to alma mater ranks with the best.  It is doubtful that the University has ever had a more selfless supporter and altruistic alumnus.

Golf has been an extraordinary vehicle for him to achieve his goals and objectives and the beneficiary of his good works has been the University of Georgia.