PALMER WAS ALWAYS CLASS OF THE FIELD
A few golfers have accomplished more but none have held the fans like Arnie
Arnold Palmer’s life was one to be envied and, to the extent that realism allowed, emulated.
Rare is the golfer who can even approach the skill with which Palmer played or the charisma he possessed.
But everyone, irrespective of their fame or anonymity, should strive to treat people the way Palmer did during his 87 years.
Greatness on the golf course did not set him apart. Six golfers won more majors. But who won more friends or admirers?
“Arnie’s Army” was a formidable force. Long after his prime, people clamoured for a glimpse of him on the golf course. Even when he no longer swung a club, his presence purely ceremonial, he connected with people and made them feel good.
Galleries were filled with friends, most of whom he had never met. His good nature instantly and enduringly resonated with people, to the extent that his score was often rendered unimportant, or least secondary.
If Arnie was on the course, it was a wonderful place to be.
He would sign every autograph and do every interview, handling seemingly infinite demands on his time without it ever seeming like an imposition or a burden.
He seemed like the nice guy next door who just happened to be an elite golfer, a millionaire many times over, and an accomplished pilot.
Beginning in 1956, he flew himself to and from tournaments and public appearances.
His skill in the cockpit was such that, in 1976, he flew around the world. Everywhere he went on that journey, people knew who he was. Moreover, they celebrated who he was.
Tributes have poured in since around suppertime on Sunday, when word began to circulate that Palmer had died. He had been in declining health, so the news was not a complete surprise, but it was jarring all the same.
After all, Palmer had always been around.
I am hardly a golf aficionado, as evidenced by a lifetime-best round of 136, but I knew about Palmer from a very early age. It was the same with Jack Nicklaus, Muhammad Ali, Bobby Orr, Johnny Unitas, et al. You didn’t have to follow their sports to be aware of their existence.
My sports awakening took place in the early 1970s. Palmer became my favourite golfer because he was the most-famous one, and he seemed like the nicest one.
It wasn’t until years later when I realized that he won his last major tournament — his fourth Masters — in the year I was born (1964).
Yet, to me, he always seemed like the best. That never changed. In fact, my appreciation for him only grew over time.
Then came 1982. By then, I was addicted to the hobby of autograph collecting. I habitually wrote to luminaries in the sporting and entertainment worlds and requested signatures. I even subscribed to a magazine that provided tips and addresses.
One fine day, I was reading an article on how to obtain autographs of notable golfers. A number of addresses were listed, including those of Palmer and Nicklaus.
Two letters were quickly composed. Within a fortnight, both men had responded.
Palmer signed a three-by-five index card with a black felt pen. Every letter was legible. Every stroke was perfect — something that every golfer would love to say about a round.
On the course, Palmer did not have the smoothest swing. There are myriad photos of him from the 1960s, smoking a cigarette during a PGA event.
Yet, the occasional nicotine fix or battle with the bunker only served to enhance his appeal.
Arnold Palmer, for all he accomplished, carried himself like an ordinary guy. He had a way of making other people feel important or appreciated.
Even in Regina, Saskatchewan, someone could open an envelope and realize that, even a few thousand miles away, there was never a distance between Palmer and his fans.