Going for Choke

By: John Molori on 07/09/10 11:20 AM

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In the wake of Dustin Johnson’s so-called collapse at the recent U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, the word “choke” has been bandied about with great frequency and even a bit of devilish joy.

Let’s face it. The only thing America loves more than a glorious winner is a monumental loser. Whether it is golf, football, baseball, you name the sport; classic chokers remain fixed in our mindsets as much, if not more, than past champions.

While Names like Ben Hogan, Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus conjure up pastoral visions of sun-drenched greatness, the much-ballyhooed failures of Greg Norman, Jean Van de Velde and, most recently, Dustin “I’m going to be tough to beat” Johnson are equally as vivid.

Sure, Norman, aptly nicknamed the Shark with his platinum mane and carnal appetite for success, has a life to envy. He has dominated golf, business and the hoi polloi dating scene. Still, he is just as remembered for massive failures at various major championships throughout his career.

Van de Velde is even worse. At least Norman has some British Open hardware to show for his career. Van de Velde’s 1999 collapse at the Open Championship is epic. He held a 3 stroke lead entering the final hole and needed only what would have been a double-bogey 6 to win the title. Sadly, the lasting image of old Jean is seeing him with his pants rolled up wading through Barry Burn trying to salvage another errant shot.

Water wasn’t the only obstacle for Van de Velde. During that horrific final hole at Carnoustie, his shots slammed into grandstands, the rough and bunkers. The guy hit everything but a greenskeeper and a Buick in the valet parking lot.

Van de Velde set a standard for choking that makes Dustin Johnson’s final round at Pebble Beach look like a masterpiece. Johnson led by a mere 3 strokes. Sure, he coughed up the most important tournament in the United States of America, surrendered a huge pay day, lost countless endorsement deals and blew a shot at immortality, but so what? He’s young and can bounce back.

Van de Velde fell into an abyss of shame, ridicule and obscurity. The only time he is mentioned is in depressing columns like the one you are reading, or alongside the 2004 Yankees and the 1964 Phillies in stories about the greatest choke jobs of all-time.

Here in New England, we are no strangers to choking. The recent run of titles by the Patriots, Red Sox and Celtics aside, we still are a breeding ground for coughing up a championship here and there. This past spring is a good example. The Celtics led their NBA Finals series with the Lakers 3-2 and led Game 7 by 13 points in the third quarter. They allowed L.A. to score at will in the fourth quarter and lost the crown.

Their hockey counterparts in black and gold took gagging to another level. The Bruins led their conference semifinal series with Philly 3-0, then after blowing the series lead, led the Flyers 3-0 in Game 7 only to lose that game and the series 4-3. Bleeding heart sympathizers would say that neither the Celtics nor the Bruins were expected to go as far as they did. Please.

Low expectation level is no excuse for choking. The Celtics and Bruins were in an overwhelming position to win and failed catastrophically. That’s a choke, baby.

I don’t need to incite projectile vomiting by reciting the litany of pre-2004 Red Sox chokes. Let’s just go with a list and all you sadists can fill in the verbs: Babe Ruth, Johnny Pesky, Bob Gibson, Luis Aparicio, Bill Lee, Bucky Dent, Bill Buckner, Roger Clemens, Tim Tschida, and Aaron Boone. Had enough?

Even the much-decorated New England Patriots, they of the three Super Bowl titles, pulled one of the most heinous choke jobs ever by losing to the mediocre New York Giants in Super Bowl XLII. New England was undefeated coming into that game and held a 14-10 lead with under three minutes to play and New York on their own 17 yard line.

Long story short, Asante Samuel let a game-ending interception go through his hands. Richard Seymour couldn’t sack Eli Manning. David Tyree caught a pass with his head, and Ellis Hobbs was burned like an electronics store during the 1992 L.A. riots. Goodbye perfect season. Goodbye championship. Goodbye dynasty. Hello chokers!

So, lay off Dustin Johnson. Set against the backdrop of more dramatic chokes, his minor faux pas at Pebble Beach was barely a hiccup.

Syndicated columnist John Molori writes for numerous publications and websites. Email John at MoloriMedia@aol.com.

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