The Biggest Masters Golf Collapses

The Masters Tournament, with its pristine fairways, blooming azaleas, and unrelenting pressure, has a knack for turning dreams into nightmares. Since its inception in 1934, Augusta National has been the stage for some of golf’s greatest triumphs—and its most spectacular collapses. A collapse at the Masters isn’t just a bad round; it’s a public unraveling, often unfolding over the back nine on Sunday, where legends are made or broken. From Greg Norman’s infamous 1996 meltdown to Rory McIlroy’s 2011 disaster, here are the biggest collapses in Masters history.

Ken Venturi – 1956: An Amateur’s Agony

Long before Norman, McIlroy, or Spieth, Ken Venturi authored one of the Masters’ earliest collapses. In 1956, the 24-year-old amateur held a four-shot lead entering the final round, poised to become the first amateur to win the Masters. Venturi had played brilliantly, but Augusta’s Sunday winds and his own nerves proved too much.

His final-round 80 was a slow bleed. Bogeys piled up as the pressure mounted, and Venturi’s inexperience showed. Jackie Burke Jr., playing behind him, shot a 71 in brutal conditions, erasing the deficit and winning by one. Venturi’s collapse wasn’t as dramatic as some modern meltdowns—no single hole defined it—but its significance lies in its context. An amateur victory would have been historic, and Venturi never came closer to a green jacket. “I had my chance,” he later reflected. He turned pro, won the 1964 U.S. Open, and became a beloved broadcaster, but 1956 remains a what-if.

Ed Sneed – 1979: Three Holes, Three Bogeys

Ed Sneed’s collapse in 1979 is a study in late-round heartbreak. The journeyman pro led by three shots with three holes to play, a position most would trade their putters for. Sneed had been rock-solid all week, and the green jacket was within reach.

Then, disaster struck. On the 16th, he missed a short par putt. On the 17th, another bogey. On the 18th, needing only a par to win, Sneed’s approach found a bunker, and he missed a 5-footer to force a playoff. His 76 opened the door for Fuzzy Zoeller, Tom Watson, and Jack Nicklaus, with Zoeller winning in sudden death—the first Masters playoff decided that way. Sneed’s three-hole collapse turned a coronation into a footnote. “I didn’t choke,” he insisted, but the record books say otherwise.

Greg Norman – 1996: The Shark’s Six-Shot Sinking

Perhaps no collapse is more synonymous with the Masters than Greg Norman’s in 1996. The Australian, nicknamed “The Shark,” entered the final round with a commanding six-shot lead over Nick Faldo. Norman had been a perennial contender at Augusta, finishing runner-up twice before, and this seemed to be his moment. At 41, he was playing some of the best golf of his career, and his third-round 63 had electrified the galleries.

But Sunday was a different story. Norman’s swing, usually a model of consistency, betrayed him early. A bogey on the 1st hole set an ominous tone, and by the time he reached the 9th, his lead had shrunk to two. The real implosion came on the back nine. At the par-3 12th, part of the treacherous Amen Corner, Norman’s tee shot found Rae’s Creek, leading to a double bogey. Faldo, cool and methodical, pounced. Norman’s approach to the 15th sailed into the water, and his chip on 16 rolled off the green. He carded a 78, while Faldo shot a 67, winning by five shots. Norman’s six-shot lead evaporated into an 11-shot swing—one of the most brutal collapses in major championship history. “I let it slip away,” Norman said afterward, a sentiment that still haunts Masters lore.

Rory McIlroy – 2011: A Young Star’s Augusta Nightmare

Rory McIlroy was just 21 when he arrived at the 2011 Masters, a prodigy with the golf world at his feet. After three rounds, he held a four-shot lead, his effortless swing and fearless play dazzling Augusta. The Northern Irishman seemed destined to become the youngest Masters champion since Tiger Woods in 1997. But the final round exposed the fragility of youth under pressure.

McIlroy’s collapse began subtly—a bogey on the 1st—but snowballed into catastrophe on the 10th. His drive hooked left into the cabins, a place so rarely visited that it’s not even on most course maps. After a series of misadventures, including a shot that ricocheted off a tree, he made a triple-bogey 7. The unraveling continued at the 12th, where he four-putted for a double bogey, and at the 13th, where his ball found the creek. McIlroy’s 80 was a far cry from the 65 he’d shot in the first round. Charl Schwartzel capitalized, winning by two, while McIlroy sat in the clubhouse, head in hands. “It was a character-building day,” he said later. Two months later, he won the U.S. Open, proving Augusta’s scars can heal—but they never fade.

Jordan Spieth – 2016: The 12th Hole Heartbreak

Jordan Spieth’s collapse in 2016 is a modern Masters tragedy, etched into history by the par-3 12th hole. The Texan, just 22, was seeking his second straight green jacket after a wire-to-wire victory in 2015. He entered the final round with a one-shot lead and extended it to five by the turn, birdieing the 9th to roaring applause. Victory seemed inevitable.

Then came Amen Corner. A bogey on the 11th hinted at trouble, but the 12th—Golden Bell—delivered the knockout. Spieth’s tee shot landed short, rolling back into Rae’s Creek. After taking a drop, his next shot flew fat into the water again. The quadruple-bogey 7 that followed was a dagger, turning a five-shot lead into a three-shot deficit in mere minutes. Danny Willett, playing steady golf, seized the moment, winning by three. Spieth, gracious in defeat, handed Willett the green jacket he’d worn a year earlier. “I can’t think of anybody else who may have had a tougher ceremony,” Spieth said, smiling through the pain. The 12th remains his Augusta albatross.

Why Augusta Breaks Players

What makes the Masters a crucible for collapses? The course itself is a factor—narrow fairways, lightning-fast greens, and the back-nine gauntlet of Amen Corner test every facet of a player’s game. But it’s the weight of the moment—the green jacket, the history—that often undoes them. Norman’s experience, McIlroy’s youth, Spieth’s overconfidence—all were exposed by Augusta’s unrelenting demand for perfection.

These collapses aren’t just failures; they’re human stories of resilience and redemption. Norman never won a Masters, but his legacy endures. McIlroy and Spieth bounced back with majors elsewhere. Venturi and Sneed found other paths to golf immortality. At Augusta, the line between glory and collapse is razor-thin, and that’s what keeps us watching, year after year.