A 1973 Scorecard in Tom Weiskopf’s Hand Sold for $4,182.50

 

Jack Nicklaus shot 62.

Tom Weiskopf wrote down the numbers.

Nearly 37 years later, that piece of paper sold at Heritage Auctions for $4,182.50.

That is enough information to get a collector’s attention, but the real value of the object as golf history comes from what had to happen before either signature was placed on it.

The scorecard came from the third round of the inaugural Ohio Kings Island Open in 1973. Nicklaus was playing at the Jack Nicklaus Golf Center in Mason, Ohio, with Weiskopf as his playing partner. Nicklaus shot 9-under 62, one of two 62s listed as his career low on the PGA Tour.

Weiskopf scored the card in pencil. Both men signed it.

The card eventually surfaced at Heritage Auctions in April 2010, carrying the marks, folds and handwriting of an actual tournament round rather than something manufactured later for the autograph market.

That distinction changes the conversation.

The Numbers Were Part of the Object

Heritage described the card as tournament-used and scored in Weiskopf’s hand. The auction house’s catalog described both signatures as strong pencil examples, with the autographs pre-certified by PSA/DNA and an auction letter of authenticity supplied by James Spence Authentication.

The scorecard had also lived a life.

Heritage noted handling wear and storage folds, and the card had been attached to cardboard backing for protection and display. Those details matter because a tournament scorecard should not necessarily look as though it spent five decades untouched in a drawer.

The round itself gives the paper its historical center.

Nicklaus entered Sunday in command after the 62 and went on to win the inaugural tournament by six strokes over Lee Trevino. His four rounds were 68, 69, 62 and 72 for a 13-under-par total of 271.

Yet the person recording Saturday’s round gives the piece another layer.

This was Tom Weiskopf in 1973.

Weiskopf Was in the Middle of His Greatest Season

It’s easy to look at the card and see only Nicklaus.

That would miss part of its appeal.

Weiskopf was 30 years old and playing the finest golf of his career. During an eight-week stretch earlier that year, he had won five PGA Tour events. The run included the Colonial National Invitation, Kemper Open, IVB-Philadelphia Golf Classic, The Open Championship and Canadian Open.

At Royal Troon, he had gone wire to wire for his only major championship.

So the handwriting on the Kings Island scorecard did not come from a ceremonial partner, aging former champion or random name paired with Nicklaus. It belonged to one of the dominant players of that particular season.

That is something an autograph by itself cannot provide.

The signature identifies Weiskopf.

The handwriting puts him inside the round.

A Signature Alone Tells a Different Story

Other auction records offer a useful comparison, as long as they are not mistaken for direct appraisals of this scorecard.

In May 2025, The Golf Auction sold a Royal Troon embroidered flag signed by Weiskopf and inscribed “’73.” James Spence Authentication reviewed the signature, and the auction house reported a final price of $157.74, including buyer’s premium.

That is an appealing Weiskopf collectible. The venue, year and player all belong together. It creates an immediate visual connection to the championship that defined his career.

A signed MacGregor Weiskopf model golf ball sold through the same auction house for $42.55 in 2017, also with James Spence Authentication associated with the autograph.

Those prices do not establish what either item would bring today, nor do they establish a general market value for Weiskopf memorabilia. They are simply dated public sales records.

What they do show is the difference between an autograph and an artifact tied directly to competition.

The scorecard has both.

Why This Piece Reached Another Level

Start removing pieces of the story and the object becomes something else.

A Jack Nicklaus autograph has a market.

A Tom Weiskopf autograph has a market.

A blank scorecard from a 1973 PGA Tour event has its own appeal as ephemera.

This card combines the players, the tournament, the round and the scoring itself.

Nicklaus’ 62 was real. Weiskopf was there. The numbers are in Weiskopf’s hand. Both men signed the finished card. Nicklaus then went on to win the tournament.

For golf collectors, that is an important distinction. The strongest artifact is often not the one carrying the largest autograph or the cleanest presentation. It is the one that can be placed closest to something that actually happened.

A tournament-used scorecard can do that exceptionally well because the history is not merely attached to the object.

The history is written on it.

The Provenance Question Still Matters

There is one part of the story that the public Heritage listing does not fully answer.

The auction catalog documents the tournament attribution, Weiskopf’s handwriting, the signatures, condition and autograph authentication. It does not provide a complete published ownership chain explaining where the scorecard went after the 1973 tournament and how it eventually reached Heritage in 2010.

That absence should not be filled with an assumption.

Authentication and provenance are related, but they are not the same thing. An authentication service can offer an opinion about a signature. Tournament details and handwriting can support the attribution of an object. Provenance addresses something different: where the object has been and how ownership moved from one person to another.

For this card, the public record is stronger in some of those areas than others.

Heritage nevertheless provides a documented market result. The auction house reports that Lot 82081 sold April 23, 2010, for $4,182.50. Because the accessible public lot display reviewed for this story does not separately identify the hammer amount and buyer’s premium, that figure should be described simply as Heritage’s reported sold-for price.

That is already enough to make the scorecard one of the more interesting publicly documented Weiskopf-connected artifacts.

More importantly, it preserves him in an unusual way.

Not posing for a photograph.

Not signing a souvenir.

Not holding the Claret Jug.

Tom Weiskopf was doing one of the most routine jobs in tournament golf, marking another player’s score.

The other player happened to be Jack Nicklaus.

The number happened to be 62.

And the year happened to be 1973.