Sportscaster Verne Lundquist’s enthusiasm for Augusta National and his hometown of Steamboat Springs have made him a legend in both places.

 

No viewer of the Masters would ever connect Verne Lundquist’s smooth, crisp calls with the indecipherable mutterings of Marlon Brando. That is, except his neighbors in downtown Denver and Steamboat Springs. Like the legendary method actor, this veteran CBS broadcaster has to memorize his lines—and in Lundquist’s case, that requires hours and hours of preparation and rehearsal before every event. “I do a little walk through LoDo and talk to myself,” 67-year-old Lundquist says with a chuckle. “People think I’m crazy—‘There goes The Mumbler.’ And I’ve really got that reputation in Steamboat. We’ve got a trail that runs four miles along the river—‘Oh jeez, The Mumbler’s back on the path.’”

As he describes this pre-event routine, the avuncular sportscaster laughs heartily. He’s sitting in the LoDo pied-à-terre he and his wife Nancy have owned since the mid-1990s. The windows face northwest, toward the mountains and the place they’ve called home for more than three decades. “Steamboat’s a real town, with a real downtown, not just a ski resort, and we just love it,” says Lundquist.

Both Lundquists are active in local charities and community causes, including United Way. His greatest passion, however, is music, and he sits on the board of directors of Strings in the Mountains, a Steamboat Springs-based nonprofit that stages 80 concerts a year and just celebrated its 20th anniversary. “We affectionately refer to him as a ‘lifer,’” says Kay Clagett, the festival’s cofounder, president and CEO. “He loves the music and the people who play it. He has become friends with the chamber musicians and the jazz and bluegrass musicians. When they come to the festival, the first thing they ask, ‘Is Verne going to be there?’ He has them to dinner. They play golf. It’s practically his festival. You couldn’t ask for anyone more enthusiastic or involved.”

Lundquist’s love affair with Steamboat started in 1971 when Billy Kidd, fresh off his World Cup win, taught Lundquist to ski. After accepting a few invitations from his friend, the 1948 Heisman Trophy winner Doak Walker, who had settled there with his wife, Skeeter, the Lundquists were sold: “We’d been living in Dallas—and until this year kept a place there—but Colorado summers beat Texas summers any time.”

But in the spring, nothing beats Augusta National. Back in the broadcast tower on the 16th hole for his 24th Masters, Lundquist will bring the enthusiasm and gravitas that helped immortalize such moments as Jack Nicklaus’ 1986 charge to his final green jacket, Greg Norman’s monumental choke in 1995, and the back-to-back aces by Padraig Harrington and Kirk Triplett in 2004. And, of course, there was Tiger’s improbable birdie chip in 2005 and Mickelson’s birdie the following year.

 

“I’ve been so blessed, and it is serendipity more than anything else, to be at an event when something breaks out in front of you,” reflects Lundquist, who also called Duke’s epic defeat of Kentucky during the 1992 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament. “When that happens, it’s your responsibility as a broadcaster to be equal to the event.”

Lundquist has been equal to events since he got his big break in 1972—calling Dallas Cowboys games on the radio. They were becoming “America’s Team,” and every Sunday fans in 119 markets heard his play-by-play. While in Dallas, he befriended Las Colinas Country Club pro Rives McBee, whose 64 in the third round of the 1966 U.S. Open had tied the record for lowest round. “Rives said, ‘If you want to call golf, you’d better learn to play golf,’” remembers Lundquist, who was then in his early thirties. 
McBee’s lessons paid off. Not only did Lundquist start broadcasting golf for ABC, he also started playing often enough to get to a 14 handicap. He and Doak Walker staged the celebrity-studded Walker-Lundquist Invitational, a charity golf event that continued at the Sheraton Steamboat Golf Club until Walker’s death in 1998.

By that time, Lundquist was entering his second stint at CBS. His first ran from 1982 until 1995, when Sean McManus took over as president of CBS Sports and Lance Barrow succeeded pioneering golf producer Frank Chirkinian. By 1998, Lundquist was back at CBS, where today he and Jim Nantz, Nick Faldo, David Feherty, Peter Oosterhuis, Peter Kostis, Bill Macatee and Ian Baker-Finch make for one of the most colorful broadcast teams in golf.

Although Lundquist knows the “Augusta green jackets” won’t let the broadcast get too animated (“just ask my friends Gary McCord and Jack Whitaker”), he understands the guidelines that longtime chairman Clifford Roberts had imposed. “The ‘patron’ thing drives us all crazy—they’re golf fans,” Lundquist says. “And the water in front of the 13th isn’t Rae’s Creek; it’s a tributary to Rae’s Creek. They tell us not to mention money, and they would prefer we talk about the San Diego Open but that we not mention the sponsor. I have no problem with any of that. In my understanding of golf, I think of the Greater Greensboro Open, not who the sponsor is. Sponsors change all the time.”

One thing Lundquist avoids is trying to one-up any of his colleagues—especially with a clever or cute remark. “You saw what happened with Kelly Tilghman and Nick Faldo and that unfortunate ‘lynching’ comment. I’m sorry she said what she said. I thought Tiger and (his manager) Mark Steinberg did the right thing saying there was no malice. However, the Golfweek cover was over the top and out of line. It was in such poor taste and impossible to justify.” Does he think Golfweek Editor Dave Seanor deserved to be fired? “Yes. And I think Al Sharpton should be fired, honest to God. Let’s move forward.”

As Lundquist explains, “Every one of us who has ever broadcast into a live microphone has either come close or has inadvertently gone over the edge. We all live in mortal fear, I swear to you, of saying something that’s in our subconscious. On the other side of the coin, there are a lot of occasions where you become a little tongue-tied. You say to yourself, ‘Oh dear.’”

Such occasions are few and far between for Lundquist, who in addition to the Masters, calls the PGA Championship, college and professional football and basketball and has announced more than two-dozen other sports, including boxing, archery and figure skating. Last April, he earned induction into the 2007 National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association Hall of Fame.

According to colleague Jim Nantz, with whom he has worked the Masters since 1985, “Verne is the master of using silence as a sword. His call of the Tiger Woods chip-in in 2005 was utter brilliance. If you went to other announcers with the tape and asked them to script a call, they wouldn’t do it as well as Verne did it live. In 100 years, if there are broadcastologists, they’ll have a special chapter for Vernisms, maybe a class in advanced Vernology. He’s that good.”

Lundquist returns the compliment: “Jim has a feel for golf. What I admire about him is that he works so hard. He’s there long before and long after everyone’s gone home. He’s out with the guys as the sun goes down. He gets these little nuggets. He’s got the greatest ability to hold something in his pocket until just the appropriate time. It’s a product of hard work. And he’s got a feel for golf. He’s a very good player.”

And what kind of player is Verne Lundquist?

A member at Steamboat’s Catamount Ranch & Club and Rollingstone Ranch (formerly Steamboat Sheraton) Golf Club, Lundquist has been as low as a 14 handicap, and now hovers around 18—“and I’m proud to say nobody’s ever called me a sandbagging son of a gun.” The highlight of his playing career came in 2005 during a special edition of The Golf Channel’s Big Break All-Star Challenge featuring him, ESPN’s Jay Bilas, NBA great Billy Cunningham and Sporting News Radio’s Tim Brando. “You talk about an accident. These guys all have lower handicaps than I do. Bilas got knocked out first. It just crushed him. Then we had to hit over water to a grid. Brando crushed his drives but hit all four out of bounds. I just poked a three wood barely over the water and into the grid. Brando asks, ‘He gets a point for that s—t?’ Billy flies the green, and I land about 15 feet from the pin to win. Like I say, an accident.”

Lundquist’s conservative approach leads him to appreciate last year’s Masters victory by lay-up artist Zach Johnson. “It proves that even with the changes and the lengthening of the course, a guy who plays smart golf can win.” However, he concedes, “Now more than ever the course plays into the hands of Tiger and the other long-hitters.”

 After the Masters, the Lundquists will return to Steamboat. He’ll focus on playing golf instead of calling it—that is until the PGA Championship rolls around. As serendipitous as this humble Minnesota minister’s son likes to describe his career to be, his success stems from hard work, a deep love of golf and all sports, and, yes, a studious dedication to mumbling.

 

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Verne Lundquist’s Top 3 Masters Moments

1. Jack Nicklaus winning his sixth green jacket at the age of 46 (1986)

“I remember hearing producer Lance Barrow telling Frank Chirkinian, ‘We have Nicklaus with a birdie on nine,’ and Frank snapping back, ‘I don’t care. Nicklaus isn’t part of the story.’ Well, after a birdie on 10 he became very much a part of the story. I remember every stroke Jack took on the back nine that day. It’s just singed into all of our memories.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  2. Tiger’s chip-in on the par-three 16th en route to his fourth Masters victory (2005)

“That dramatic image of the ball crawling toward the hole was made possible by a 100:1 zoom lens that cameraman Bob Wishnie had just got. You could clearly read “In God We Trust 2002” on a coin more than 100 feet away. You know when the ball dropped and the camera shook? That was me jumping in the booth. All I could say was, ‘Oh my goodness! Oh WOW!! IN YOUR LIFE, have you seen anything like that?"

 

 

 

 

 

 3. Ben Crenshaw’s second Masters win and emotional tribute to longtime-teacher Harvey Penick (1995)

“Ben had just served as Harvey’s pallbearer and wasn’t playing well leading up to the Masters. You couldn’t help but believe him when he said he felt Harvey’s hand all week.”