The greatest rivalry in golf began on a nine-hole course in the Ohio countryside

A voice identified Palmer, the defending state champ. Palmer would make it two in a row long after Nicklaus lost to someone named Dale Bittner on the 19th hole. Bittner would be a fleeting thought, gone just like that. Nicklaus went home to tell friends and neighbors all about the golfer swinging in the rain, the carnival strongman who crushed opponents with his frighteningly large hands.

Four years later, when Charlie Nicklaus made the 75-mile drive with his growing boy for the date with Palmer, Jack had left his awe back at home, left it there in a closet cluttered with everything else he'd outgrown.

"The guy had basically just started winning majors," Nicklaus says. "Did I know Arnold Palmer was a good player? You're darn right. But was I ever in awe of what he did? Probably not."

No, the teenage Nicklaus wasn't short on confidence. Having recently entered his sophomore year at Ohio State, he had built himself a remarkable record on the junior circuit. He had won the Ohio State Open as a 16-year-old competing against pros. He'd already played in two U.S. Opens, making the cut earlier that year at Southern Hills. He'd won a national Jaycees championship, and he had contended in his first Tour event, standing a shot off the lead after two rounds of the 1958 Rubber City Open before finishing 12th.

Jack wasn't about to make a fuss over Palmer, who had only one major championship to his name to go with the 1954 U.S. Amateur title.

Nicklaus would let the people of Athens do the fussin' for him.

Palmer was quite a catch for a community in the Appalachian foothills, a college town of 15,000, about half of them students at Ohio University. To the coal miners and farmers of the depressed pockets surrounding the sanctuary of higher education, Palmer's arrival, according to George Strode, sports editor of The Athens Messenger, "was like the second coming of Christ."

The son of an Athens lawyer, Finsterwald was the one who had booked the main attraction. His friendship with Palmer was born of the matches they played as college rivals, Dow as a star at Ohio, Arnold at Wake Forest. Palmer had shot a 29 on the first nine they played together.

In one Ohio-Wake match, with Arnold and Dow tied at the turn, Palmer declared, "I'll bet you a tub of beer I shoot 32 or better on the back."

Palmer shot 31.

The pecking order in their relationship established forevermore, Palmer and Finsterwald became what one pro described as "ass---- buddies."

Dow told everyone to count Arnold in. "Give him a call," Swearingen said. "Hell, give him a call yourself," Finsterwald responded. "Here's his number. He's there right now."

Sure enough, Arnold was home in Latrobe and eager to participate in a day to honor Athens's favorite son. Swearingen told Palmer that he would send him a plane ticket to Columbus and drive him to town.

"You've got an airport in Athens, don't you?" Palmer asked.

"Well, we've got a landing strip at the university," Swearingen said.

"I don't need a ticket then. I'll fly right in."