Johnny Miller's story is one of the most compelling in golf - a tale in two acts. Many golfers remember his unfiltered, brutally honest commentary from the NBC broadcast booth, but what happened to the player? This article breaks down the incredible, short-lived dominance of Johnny Miller the golfer, what led to his decline, and how he transformed into the most talked-about voice in the sport for over two decades.
The Boy Wonder with the Golden Irons
Long before he was dissecting players' swings on national television, Johnny Miller was a golfing prodigy from San Francisco. He wasn't just good, he was different. He burst onto the national scene by winning the 1964 U.S. Junior Amateur and polished his game at Brigham Young University, becoming a first-team All-American.
When he turned pro, it wasn’t his raw power that turned heads - it was his laser-like precision with his irons. Miller had an almost supernatural ability to hit the ball directly at the flagstick, a high, soft-landing ball flight that sat down gently next to the hole. This aggressive, "go-for-the-pin" strategy was a spectacle to behold. In an era where playing to the "fat part of the green" was a staple, Miller played darts.
From a coaching perspective, what he did was masterful. He combined a powerful, rotational swing with supreme confidence. His setup was athletic, he leaned over from his center, pushed his bottom back, and let his arms hang naturally, creating the foundation for a powerful, rounded swing. Many amateur golfers are afraid of this posture, feeling it looks odd, but it’s the secret to creating a swing powered by the body's rotation, not just the arms. Miller was a model of turning the torso, allowing the club to work at an angle around his body, and then unwinding with incredible speed and accuracy. This kinetic Chain was nearly flawless in his prime.
1973-1976: The Hottest Streak in Golf History
To truly understand "what happened to Johnny Miller," you must first appreciate the stratosphere he occupied for a three-year period. It goes beyond good play, it was a period of sustained brilliance that rivaled some of the best stretches by Jack Nicklaus or Tiger Woods.
The Round of His Life: The '73 U.S. Open at Oakmont
The defining moment of Miller's career came at the 1973 U.S. Open, held at the famously brutal Oakmont Country Club. Entering the final round, he was six strokes behind the leaders. What happened next is the stuff of legend.
Playing in the notoriously punishing U.S. Open conditions, Miller put on a ball-striking clinic for the ages. He hit all 18 greens in regulation and recorded 29 putts. The result was a final round, 8-under-par 63 - still widely considered the greatest final round ever played to win a major championship. He didn't just win, he conquered one of golf's sternest tests in a way no one thought possible.
Here’s what made that 63 so remarkable:
- The Difficulty of Oakmont: Even today, Oakmont is feared for its slick, undulating greens and punishing rough. To shoot 63 there under Sunday pressure is almost unfathomable.
- The Pinpoint Irons: Miller’s caddie later said that on ten of the holes, Miller’s approach shot finished within 15 feet of the pin. Four of those were inside 5 feet. He wasn't just hitting greens, he was hunting flags.
- The Clutch Putting: Despite hitting it so close, he still had to make the putts. He rolled them in with confidence, capping off a perfect round of golf.
The Desert Dominance and Major Success
The momentum from Oakmont carried him into an astounding period of play. Kicking off 1974, he won the first three tournaments of the season, including a staggering 14-shot victory at the Phoenix Open. He would go on to win eight times that year, establishing himself as the best player in the world.
He wasn't finished. In 1976, he captured his second and final major, The Open Championship at Royal Birkdale. He once again stormed past the leaders on the weekend, including a 19-year-old Seve Ballesteros, with a final-round 66 to win by six strokes. At that point, it seemed like Miller's reign at the top of the sport was just beginning.
The Fall: A Superstar's Fade
So, what happened? How does a player with that much talent, who looked poised to challenge Jack Nicklaus's throne, seemingly lose it all? Miller’s decline wasn’t a gradual slide, it was a sudden and frustrating drop-off, stemming from a cocktail of issues that plagued him physically and mentally.
The Cruelest Affliction: The Putting Yips
The primary culprit behind Miller's decline was the “yips.” For a non-golfer, this is hard to understand. From a coach’s viewpoint, it’s a dreaded condition where a golfer loses fine motor control during the high-pressure, delicate motion of the putting stroke. It’s a psycho-neuromuscular glitch where the brain and body miscommunicate, resulting in involuntary flinches, jabs, or twitches.
For Miller, a player who built his career on hitting it close, failing to convert from short range was a special kind of torture. He could still stripe it from tee to green better than anyone, routinely giving himself birdie opportunities inside 10 feet. But standing over those putts, his confidence evaporated. The smooth, fearless stroke he had at Oakmont was replaced by a nervy, tentative action. Putting became a source of extreme anxiety rather than opportunity, and it unraveled his entire game.
He tried everything to fix it: changing putters, grips, and stances. Nothing consistently worked. The once-aggressive player started playing defensively, trying to leave himself uphill putts and avoid terrifying short, downhill sliders. Knowing an eagle opportunity could easily become a three-putt par - or worse - saps the joy and competitiveness out of the game.
Burnout and Shifting Priorities
Beyond the yips, other human factors came into play. Miller had accomplished so much, so quickly. He had earned his two majors, made his money, and was recognized as the best in the world. For some, this fuels the fire. For Miller, it seemed to temper it.
He was also a devoted family man with six children. The constant grind of travel and competition began to wear on him. The desire to be home with his family started to outweigh the desire to win another golf tournament, especially when the game itself had become a source of such deep frustration. Knee and foot injuries also crept in, making the rigorous demands of tour life even more difficult.
The Second Act: Voice of a Generation
After his playing career effectively ended, Miller wasn't done with golf. He joined NBC Sports as their lead golf analyst in 1990, and a new legend was born. If his playing was defined by fearless aggression, his broadcasting was defined by fearless honesty.
Brutal Honesty from the Booth
Miller completely changed what a golf broadcaster could be. He didn't rely on clichés or play nice with the players. He said what he saw, often in blunt, unforgettable terms. If a player was succumbing to pressure, Miller was the first to call it what it was: a "choke."
He famously questioned Rocco Mediate's chances against Tiger Woods during the 2008 U.S. Open playoff, saying Mediate's swing "looked more like the guy who painted my house." Quotes like these made him polarizing. Some fans loved his candor and insight, they felt he was finally saying what everyone at home was thinking. Many players (and their fans), however, bristled at his harsh critiques.
What gave him the credibility to be so direct was his own experience. He had been there. He knew what it felt like to have a major championship in your grasp and what it felt like to have it slip away. He spoke from a place of authority, and whether you loved him or hated him, you hung on his every word. He served as NBC's lead analyst for 29 years before retiring in 2019, leaving behind a legacy just as impactful as his one with a club in his hands.
Final Thoughts
Johnny Miller's career is a reminder that golf greatness can be both brilliant and ephemeral. He reached a peak that few could ever dream of, playing a brand of golf that was truly exhilarating, before the yips and life's shifting priorities sent him down a different path. He then reinvented himself a second time, becoming the most memorable and candid broadcaster the sport has ever seen.
Having an objective voice to cut through the mental chatter is invaluable on the course, something Miller provided for TV audiences and perhaps something he could have used himself during his struggle with the yips. That's a core benefit we focus on with Caddie AI. When you’re stuck over a tricky lie or feeling the pressure, you can get instant, unemotional advice. By simply describing the situation or even taking a photo of your lie, our app provides a strategic recommendation, helping you make the smart play instead of a panicked one and turning those potential blow-up holes into manageable ones.