The golf clubs he used on that memorable day, the ones with which Johnny Miller shot the lowest US Open round, have been sent to the World Golf Hall of Fame in Florida; clubs archaic by today's standards, but clubs which worked with remarkable effectiveness.

Thirty-four years ago, and the record still stands. Then, Johnny Miller shot a 63 in the final round of the 1973 US Open, a figure equalled but never broken. As America's golfing championship returns once more to Oakmont, in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, the memories remain vivid.

"It was a magical round,'' Miller agrees. "It was the world's easiest 63.'' Eight-under par at course some describe as the most difficult in America, rallying past people named Palmer, Trevino, Nicklaus and Weiskopf;the accomplishment was miraculous.

John Miller was 60 in April. He is a grandfather of 15. He has homes in Utah and in his home state, California, at Napa and Pacific Grove on the Monterey Peninsula. He is the best and most honest television announcer in golf, willing to criticise everyone, including Tiger Woods, and this week he will be at Oakmont commenting on the 107th US Open.

Memories? A thunderstorm of biblical proportions which struck late on Tuesday afternoon, and a journalist turning to me and saying, "Your guy's at it again.'' Not really my guy, but the guy most newsworthy. I was with the San Francisco Chronicle. Miller was a San Francisco native, a graduate of the city's Lincoln High and was in his fourth year as a touring pro.

He had been the first junior member at the Olympic Club whose father was not in the club.Miller signed up to caddy for the 1966 Open at Olympic, but instead he qualified, a 19-year-old amateur, who for the first two days was in a threesome with Lee Trevino. Miller eventually came in eighth, and was disappointed. "I thought I could win,'' he said.

Seven years later, he did win. At 26 his world changed. "Before that,'' Miller recalled, "I was just one of the so-called Young Lions, one of the guys like Jerry Heard and Greier Jones, who people were always saying were going to be stars of the future. They were my buddies, and all of a sudden I had left the group. I had arrived.'' Figuratively. Linda Miller, his wife then and now, arrived in a different way at the end of that final round. Her husband had no chance and so she stayed back and packed. But when the birdies started falling and the deficit started dropping, Linda was rushed to the course.

"It was, well, I was so young and so dumb,'' she said, then laughed. "I didn't realise what was happening. We turned on the TV, looked at the scoreboard, and I said, Oh my gosh.' We took off for the course. But by the time I got there he was finished. We wanted to celebrate, but the tournament wasn't over.'' Miller teed off an hour before the last group, Palmer and the late John Schlee. This was Palmer Country. Arnie grew up 30 miles away in Latrobe. He had lost the 1962 Open at Oakmont in a play-off to Nicklaus. When Schlee and Palmer got to the twelfth, Arnie, who thought he was one ahead but had fallen two behind, gawked at a scoreboard and gasped to Schlee: "Who the hell is five under?'' It was Miller, and that's where he stayed. The five-under 279 was a shot ahead of Schlee and two ahead of Tom Weiskopf.

The tale is the Oakmont greenskeeper left the sprinklers on overnight on Saturday, softening the cement-hard greens for which the course is infamous, and so the 63 is tainted. Yet, of the leaders, Nicklaus, with a 68, was the only other golfer to break 70. Miller birdied half the holes. Miller didn't make a bogey.

"It was like it was heaven-sent,'' said Miller. "I hit every green. My average birdie putt was maybe six to seven feet. I could have shot in the 50s.'' A 63 was good enough. In a US Open, nobody's ever shot better.