For Jason Day, US PGA winner, it all began with a three-wood

When Jason Day’s father, Alvyn, found an abandoned golf club in a rubbish tip, we know what he did with it.

Jason Day sheds a tear with his caddie and dear friend Colin Swatton on the 18th green after winning the 2015 PGA Championship.

It was a three-wood.

When Jason Day’s father, Alvyn, found an abandoned golf club in a Beaudesert rubbish tip, we know what he did with it. He took it home, cut it down to size, placed it in his son’s hands and ­allowed him to whack tennis balls across the backyard.

When Day was old enough to start stiffing the Slazengers to within about 10 feet of the letterbox, he received a junior club membership and permission to play six holes every Saturday. His favourite club was the one from the dump. It was a three-wood.

In the opening round of the 97th US PGA Championship, when the 27-year-old Day stood on the second fairway at Whistling Straits for his 11th hole of a heretofore unremarkable performance, he was handed a club of significance by a bloke and caddie by the name of Col Swatton.

This would be the stroke of inspiration. This would be the shot that brought Day’s tournament to life. This would be the towering 316-yard second shot to the 652-yard par-five that triggered four rounds of emotion-charged golf that left Day holding the Wanamaker Trophy while Lake Michigan was aglow in the background.

This would be the shot Day hit as though all the trials and tribulations of his life’s journey were being released through his fingertips. This would be the shot he played as though all the near-misses and injuries and gross disappointments of his career were being dispatched with the ball. This would be the shot that landed within about 10 feet of the letterbox flagstick. This would be the shot! This would be the shot he played with a club handed to him by his coach, mentor, mate, best man, confidant and father figure since the 12-year-old Day lost Alvyn to cancer. The weapon of choice? A three-wood.

“I wouldn’t have been here if my father didn’t pass away,” Day said. “And that’s just because when that door closed for me, another opportunity opened up.

“That was for my mum to sacrifice and my sisters to sacrifice for me, so I could get away to a golf academy and work hard and meet Col and work hard on my game.

“To be able to have Colin on the bag at my first major championship win, walking up 18, knowing that I’ve got the trophy, it was hard. I was trying to hold back tears over the first putt and then when I saw the putt go up to half a foot, I just couldn’t stop crying.

“It’s just a lot of hard work that I’ve been putting into this game to dedicate myself to have a shot at glory, to have a shot at greatness.”

It was Swatton who handed Day a towel when he was weeping on the 18th green at Whistling Straits. Not for the first time in the past 15 years, it was Swatton who provided a shoulder to cry on.

Jason Day’s career

Day was a three-year-old when Alvyn gave him the junkyard club. Day’s son, Dash, is three. When Day held his boy at Wisconsin and raised his cap and revealed the deep emotion and high tide of moisture still in his eyes, it was one of the most glorious sporting moments you would ever wish to see.

“The first time Col caddied for me was at the Queensland Open at Ipswich Golf Club,” Day said. “I think it was Ipswich. We had a pull cart. A little trolley. He couldn’t make it up the 18th fairway. He was that buggered that he couldn’t make it up.

“He’s come a long way. The guy is a hard worker. I wouldn’t say he’s a perfectionist. Sometimes you get a little bit too biased when you’re a perfectionist. But he’s open to learning.

“That’s what I’ve learned most about Colin. What’s rubbed off on me the most is that he’s always kind of questioning, OK, is this right? Is this wrong? Asking questions to the right people. To really be open to learning and growing as a player and as a person, if you don't do that, you stop,” Day said.

“Col has been there for me since I was 12½. It’s been a long-time relationship. He’s taken me from a kid that was getting in fights at home and getting drunk at 12 and not heading in the right direction to being a major champion winner. There’s not many coaches that can say that in many sports. He means the world to me. I love him to death.”

Day’s emotion at Whistling Straits was testament to the life journey. The loss of Alvyn. The loss of eight relatives to Typhoon Hainan which struck the Philippines in late 2013. The injuries. The illnesses. The near-misses. The unrewarded hard work, until now.

“I’ve changed so much, from where I was and what I saw as a kid, to where I am now,” he said. “Where I was based, it wasn’t the greatest place.

“It’s an amazing feeling and an amazing story to be able to tell people. To give them an insight into what I felt and the emotions that I’ve gone through growing up as a kid in Australia and losing my dad very young.

“I have no idea where I would be and what I would be doing. I probably wouldn’t be doing much of anything. I wouldn’t be challenging myself and trying to better myself if I didn’t have the people that I have in my life today. That’s why a lot of emotion came out on 18.”

Asked to elaborate on the journey, Day told reporters: “I remember growing up, we were poor. We were really poor. I mean, I remember watching her (his mother) cut the lawn with a knife because we couldn’t afford to fix the lawnmower.

“I remember not having a hot water tank, so we had to use a kettle for hot showers. We’d put the kettle on and go have a shower, and then my mum would bring three or four kettles in, just to heat them up. And it would take five, 10 minutes for every kettle to heat up. So just to be able to sit in front of you guys today and think about those stories, it gets me emotional.”

Day stood on the 18th tee with a three-shot lead. He told Swatton the line he envisaged. Swatton replied, “I love it.” The drive was a 308-yard monster. The tournament was over.

“I was telling myself don’t hit it left, don’t double bogey, hit it as hard as you can up the right side,” Day said.

“I hammered the drive up the right side and, I’m being honest here, I was over the second shot and I was like, don’t hit it short in the water.

“It was a mile short, but I had 191 yards with a bit of wind into me. All those things run through your head. But that’s the moment where you have to pull yourself back and say, no, I’m not going to have that. I’m going to stamp my foot on that thought and move forward and try and grind this out.”

Day’s 20-under-par total was the lowest majors’ score in the history of golf. He won a head-to-head shootout with American Jordan Spieth, now the world No 1.

“I’ve seen multiple mental coaches, worked with a thing called FocusBands, stuff like that. But the biggest thing that prepares you for something like this is just the sheer experience of failure.

“Looking at failure not as a negative but as a positive. Knowing that you can learn from anything, even if it’s bad or good. And that really gets you mentally tough. If I didn’t have that failure, I wouldn’t be standing here today with this trophy.”

Day’s PGA Championship finished with a tap-in putt. For all intents and purposes, it began with the opening-round eagle. It was a crushing blow from the second fairway. It was a shot and a half! It was a statement of intent.

It was the first legitimate sign that this might be his week. It was the shot that allowed his first real surge up the leaderboard. It was the shot that got him started. It was the shot of courage and a shot of perfection. And it was a three-wood.