Flanagan Punctuates Cinderella Story

By Ken Klavon, USGA

Oakmont, Pa. – Nick Flanagan stepped onto the practice putting range about 7:15 a.m. Sunday when suddenly an unrecognizable figure emerged from the shadows of the Oakmont clubhouse.

The card that Greg Norman had sent to Nick Flanagan on Saturday. (John Mummert/USGA)

He had a telegram in his hand. Flanagan flinched in shock, opening it. It was a card from fellow Australian Greg Norman. It read: “From one ‘Aussie’ to another. I wish you well tomorrow. Be the first Australian to win the title in 100 years. Play loose and play smart. Sincerely, Greg Norman.”

Norman had apparently tried reaching the 19-year-old U.S. Amateur winner the day before, after Flanagan had eliminated David Oh in the semifinals. With the 14-hour time difference and Flanagan immersed in Saturday’s bevy of interviews, the note would have to wait.

"It was a good wakeup call,” said Flanagan. “I’m sure he had no idea who I am. He must have found out.”

Therein lies the story of the week. Flanagan, who took up the game roughly five years ago, created a Cinderella tale by accomplishing what appeared to be the impossible. He went from being a nobody to a somebody.

Not bad for a kid half a world away who also went from being bedazzled by Tiger Woods in the 1997 Masters to wanting to play there himself one day. Next year he’ll get his chance to rub elbows with Woods at the Masters, U.S. Open and British Open.

Amid the afterglow of winning, a dazed Flanagan was tugged in every direction. People wanted to give him awards. Media needed more words to record. (Yes, he’d be back next year to defend). Australian radio stations desired live interviews. Children craved autographs. His mum was on the cell, with family friend Lyn Whitehouse holding her company while Flanagan's stardom ascended before our very eyes.

During the trophy presentation on the 10th green, a scrum of 15 bystanders surrounded Flanagan requesting his signature. Soon the crush swelled to 20, 30, then and 40 people.

Someone asked for a ball. Another wanted his towel. A voice from the four-deep sphere solicited him for his yardage book, signed of course, which Flanagan astonishingly gave up. Women wanted their shirts signed in, ahem, let’s just say interesting places. Flanagan obliged everyone, moving to the back of a golf cart to finally sit down.

"I’ve never signed this many autographs in my life,” he said, still signing in darkness three hours after the match ended.

Lyn Whitehouse, left, and Nick Flanagan open the card from Greg Norman Sunday morning, just off the practice putting range. (John Mummert/USGA)

If the spoils do indeed go to the winner, then Flanagan has earned all of it. At the start of the week, it was anyone’s guess who this ‘Flanagan’ was. Could he be the son of former Baltimore Orioles pitcher, Mike Flanagan? If not, then surely he must be an Irishman. No, he was just the youngest son of Jenny, a supermarket checkout clerk, and Wayne, a coalminer. Both were back at home in Lake McQuarrie, Australia, keeping close tabs on their son via the Internet. How could they not with the sacrifices they made to send Flanagan to the States? His dreams became their dreams.

When Flanagan advanced to the final, his father was hunkered down in a mine shaft, oblivious to the outcome.

"He ended up taking today off with a glass of red wine,” said compatriot Gary Whitehouse, Flanagan’s caddie.

Surely the stars were aligned for this to happen. How else can you explain what transpired? Consider the following: on this, Oakmont’s Centennial celebration, he became the first Australian to win the year this course opened. What’s more, he won in blue-collar fashion that the people in the Greater Pittsburgh area could relate to, with his father’s ties to coal-mining and all. And finally, he ended his quest on the 10th hole, which just so happened to be the same hole he snuck into match play via a playoff.

Coincidence or hauntingly eerie?

On the last five holes of Sunday’s match, Flanagan could barely breathe. Nerves had nearly paralyzed him. Someone swore they could literally see his heart pulsate against his shirt the way a windsock blows in the wind.

Up until that point, Flanagan stayed cool. On the drive to the course, he spoke to his family, never feeling one iota of anxiety unlike all the previous days. But he wasn’t staring down a 4-foot putt to win then, either, like he was on No. 17, the 35th hole of the match.

Whitehouse sensed something was amiss, figuring it’d be better to say nothing than to generate more layers of tension at that moment. The only time Whitehouse did open his mouth occurred in the match against Oh, when he saw Flanagan nearly running step for step with the spectators maneuvering for vantage points. He urged him to pace himself that time, trying to telepathically connect with him before the crucial miss on the 35th.

"It was like ducks flying on top of water, where everything is happening underneath,” said Whitehouse of Flanagan’s demeanor late Sunday.

"It was an inside-right putt,” said Flanagan. “My hands were shaking. I just couldn’t put a normal stroke on it.”

Flanagan thought he had the Amateur won.

"It just died in the last foot and missed left,” he said. “I thought it was going in halfway. The relief was unbelievable. And then to see it shave the left lip was probably the lowest I’ve been this week.”

It opened the door for Casey Wittenberg, who forced the one-hole playoff by taking the 36th hole. As Flanagan looked redemption in the face, this time converting a short putt for the victory on the 37th hole, he let out a sigh of relief heard all the way to Sydney. His quest was over.

The kid who knew nothing about hallowed Oakmont Country Club when he arrived in the U.S. June 7, the kid who had to convert meters into yards, the kid who was alone in reading the fabled greens, and the man who became a legitimate player, could finally go home.

Dream fulfilled.

The last three weeks have been such a grind that Flanagan would lay in his bed each night unable to move his legs from cramps and fatigue.

"Thousands of people out there,” said an exhausted Flanagan on the 10th green, who before this week played before 20 or so people in his only win of the year, The Tasmanian Open in Australia. “You’re in a playoff for the most prestigious amateur tournament in the world. If I ever feel that much pressure again, I’ll be very surprised.

"I can't believe what's just happened. I can't wait to get home and see everyone. When I get home I'll be able to sleep in my own bed. I think I'll sleep for a week."

Or maybe until next year when we see him again.

Ken Klavon is the Web Editor for the USGA. E-mail him at kklavon@usga.org with questions or comments.