Fast Finish

After the semifinal round of the 21st annual Masters golf tournament at the Augusta National Golf Club, Samuel Jackson Snead, 44, sneaked a look at the scoreboard and started with surprise. "You mean to tell me that ah shot a 74 and ah'm still leading this tournament?" drawled the balding West Virginian. "Man that must be a pitiful poor field out there."

Slammin' Sam was wisecracking with relief. He was one slim stroke in front of a jammed-up field, still within easy reach of such familiar figures as Doug Ford, San Francisco Amateur Harvie Ward and Defending Champion Jack Burke Jr. A new tournament rule, restricting the final two rounds to the top 40 players, had eliminated such venerable Masters as Golf Professor Ben Hogan and Dentist Gary Middlecoff, 1956 Open champion. But there were 18 rough holes and 39 rugged competitors left.

As it almost always does in the Masters, the real competition came from an almost unexpected source. Doug Ford, 34, a moonfaced, black-haired young pro who plays out of Lake Mahopac, N.Y.. got out of bed on the morning of the final round, remembered that he was three strokes back and decided "to go for everything in sight."

Once he made up his mind, Doug couldn't seem to do the job fast enough. While Snead strolled along playing just-under-par golf, Doug Ford all but ran from tee to green. His flat, awkward swing whipped out short, straight drives. His approach shots were dead to the pin. His putter rarely missed. On the 15th his drive left him a 245-yd. carry over water to the green. "Mistuh Ford." said his caddy, "you better play it safe." "The hell I will, boy," said Ford. He swung his spoon, made the green and holed out for a birdie four.

Snead, meanwhile, was slowing down. He was still flirting with par, but behind Ford's hot-handed game, par was not going to be good enough. Doug Ford shot not a single bogey; he had five birdies on his scorecard when he stepped to the 18th tee. His drive was straight, but he found his approach shot buried all but out of sight in a green-protecting trap. Now, if ever, he had an excuse to change his pace, to slow down and study his lie. He knew better. He walked into the sand, barely looked at the ball before he swung his wedge in a vicious arc. The ball soared high, dropped short of the hole, rolled straight into the cup. Ford sent his club soaring just as high as the ball. "Oh my God," he shouted. "That's the best shot I ever made!"

It was his best shot and his finest round of golf ever. His six-under-par 66 had brought him home with a total of 283. He was two strokes ahead of Snead, three ahead of a fast-finishing Jimmy Demaret. And he was Master of the Masters.

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