Sandy Tatum, Tom Watson: A date with golfing royalty
It was with great sadness that we heard the news of Sandy Tatum’s death this past week. He was a giant in the game of golf, from his days as an NCAA champion at Stanford to his time atop the USGA, administering the U.S. Open, to his work in San Francisco, restoring Harding Park and promoting the First Tee organization.
They don’t make them like Mr. Tatum anymore. And I’m not sure they ever will again. Imagine winning the NCAA individual title at Stanford in 1942, then going on to a career where that was almost a footnote. They say he loved the game like few others. And it showed.
I did not know Sandy very well,
having met him only at a few events late in his life. But I knew what he meant to the game. Among our brief encounters, one day stands out.
It was a bright, blustery day at Pebble Beach, during the 2010 U.S. Open. Tom Watson had announced he was playing his last Open at Pebble that year, site of his most famous moment, the 1982 duel with Jack Nicklaus that was immortalized with Watson’s chip-in on the 17th hole.
On that Sunday seven years ago, the leaderboard was filled with names like Woods and Els, but I chose to follow Watson down the back stretch, watching the legend finish up to write a column.
As I joined the group, out on the far reaches of the course, there was barely anyone in the gallery. Inside the ropes, it was Watson, his son, Michael, and an elderly spectator keeping pace with a small, folding chair in tow.
It was Sandy Tatum, almost 90 years young, walking the whole course.
It was Father’s Day, and the symbolism was rich. Watson, of course, was there with his son. But Tatum had played a huge, fatherly role in Watson’s
life, mentoring him as a fellow Stanford alum throughout his meteoric and sometimes turbulent career. You could simply see the love and respect the two men shared.
As the round wore on, the galleries grew little by little as word made its way around the course that Watson was taking his final strokes down the back nine of Pebble, at the U.S. Open. He wasn’t in contention, but it didn’t matter.
By the time, we reached the 17th tee box, I estimated the crowd in the thousands. Here was the hole where Watson famously chipped in to take a one-shot lead over Nicklaus with one hole to play. It has become one of the most iconic shots in golf history. And Watson was sharing it with his mentor, one more time.
On the 18th tee, the crowd had grown huge. A roar went up as Watson striped one down the middle. As he came off the tee box, he stopped and took a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes. Tatum was right there to comfort him.
That’s the kind of relationship they had. My colleague Ron Kroichick, in his terrific Page 1 obituary on Tatum in Friday’s editions, quoted Watson’s foreword to Tatum’s 2002 autobiography: “Knowing Sandy as I do, I can honestly admit I have never met a golfer who has been so thoroughly possessed with the game.”
And, back on that lovely day at Pebble, Tatum returned the favor for his friend and pupil, telling me: “He has contributed to the game of golf throughout his career, culminating in the way he has played the game at the age of 60. He has a profound love of
the game.”
Flags at San Francisco’s municipal golf courses were ordered to fly at half-staff Saturday, by mayoral decree.
“Sandy was a giant figure in the world of golf, a proud champion of San Francisco’s municipal golf courses, and a true friend of the City,” Mayor Ed Lee said in a statement. “It was always special to share a round of golf with Sandy. He will be missed, but his memory will live on through his lasting contributions to the sport he loved.”
So, next time you’re out at Harding Park, or any other golf course, take a moment and thank Sandy Tatum. He embodied the game.