The man who holds the record for the worst round in Masters' history had the best outlook

New York Times

08-04-2025

Every now and then, the question comes up: Who holds the record for the worst round at The Masters?
The answer: Charles Kunkle, Jr., with a final-day 95 in 1956.
Typically, that's where things end: a simple piece of sports trivia. That's where I thought it would end, too. Then I started reading about Kunkle, affectionately known as Kunk to friends and family. He played basketball at Duke and was a team captain. For a time, he was the president of the Johnstown Jets, the minor-league hockey team that later served as the inspiration for the film 'Slap Shot.' He served aboard an aircraft carrier in the South Pacific during World War II and later raised a family. And in 1956, he played in The Masters after qualifying with a quarterfinal finish in the U.S. Amateur.
Advertisement
But what resonated about Kunkle's Masters appearance were a couple of short quotes he gave to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette in 2005. Kunkle's record had resurfaced that year after Billy Casper, at 73, shot a 106. That round would have knocked Kunkle's name from the history books, except Casper didn't turn in his scorecard, meaning his round didn't officially count.
So Gerry Dulac, a columnist for the Post-Gazette, called Kunkle, then 91 years old, and asked him about his dubious record.
This is what Kunkle told him: 'The record, that's not important to me. I earned my way there.'
And: 'I was disappointed in my round. But I wasn't embarrassed.'
At first, I wasn't sure why those words connected with me. They just did. I wanted to hear more about Kunkle, so I reached out to his granddaughter, Lindsay, who set up a video call with her brother, Kyle, and her dad, Kim, Kunkle's son.
Kim filled me in on the details of his dad's Masters' appearance: Kunk didn't start playing golf until after college. He fell in love with the game and opened his own driving range where, he liked to say, he 'hit all the inventory all the time.' In 1956, when he qualified for The Masters, he was 42 and worked for Bethlehem Steel.
By the time he showed up in Augusta that April, he had played the equivalent of only nine practice holes because of bad weather. On his drive in, he had a fender bender on Magnolia Lane of all places because, Kim said, 'he was kind of nervous about the whole situation.' His locker was between Sam Snead and Ben Hogan. Hogan was great and took him to the practice tee; Snead, not so much.
Not surprisingly, Kunkle struggled with the speed of the greens. He shot a 79 on Day 1, followed by an 82 and an 85. But on the final day of The Masters — there were no cuts then — the winds played havoc on the course and he shot his infamous 95.
Advertisement
'He was very proud of the experience,' Kim said. 'Even though he finished last, that never bothered him.'
But it wasn't until his grandkids, Kyle and Lindsay, started talking about Kunk that I began to understand why his message had moved me. Kunk was always so supportive, so encouraging. For breakfast he served Lindsay and Kyle Nutter Butters and would sit at the kids' table during family gatherings, sprinkling in life lessons. Instead of saying goodbye, he quoted Jimmy Valvano's famous ESPY Awards speech: 'Don't give up, don't ever give up.'
Lindsay, Kyle and Kim wear bracelets etched with those words to this day.
Toward the end of our call, Kyle talked about Kunk's influence on his life. In high school, Kyle ran the 800 meters in track. It's a notoriously brutal race — 'miserable,' in Kyle's words — and every time he stepped up to the line, he felt a sense of dread. But around the second lap of the race, without fail, he would hear Kunk's words rattle around his head: 'Don't give up.' It was that little motivation he needed to push on, to finish the race strong, to do his best.
That's something he would remind his grandkids all the time: 'Do your best.' He wasn't focused on results, on wins or losses, on the score or outcome — all the ways success or failure are so often judged in sports and in life.
'He was always incredibly encouraging in what I would say a realistic way,' Lindsay said. 'Just living your best within what you can do.'
As soon as she said that, I realized that's what drew me to Kunk's quotes in the first place. He believed it was important to do your best, but more than that, he believed it was important to be proud of your best, whatever that best might be. Wrapped up in his simple quotes from 20 years ago, I realized, was an entire life philosophy. Yes, he finished in last place, and, yes, he holds the record for the worst round in Masters history. But he knew he did his best, and on that day, his best was a final-round 95. He was proud of that fact until the day he died, at the age of 99, in 2013.
Maybe it's just me, but I find something beautiful in that.
(Top photo of Kunkle at Sunnehanna Country Club in Johnstown, PA, in the 1950s: Courtesy of the Kunkle family)