San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
‘Late bloomer’ offers much from 100 years
But he also likes to write, mentor young people, lobby colleges about sportsmanship, honor fellow veterans and support his alma mater. He found renewed purpose in these pursuits the past 20-plus years. And, probably not coincidentally, he chugged through his 80s and 90s, despite heart problems, before reaching the big, round number last summer.
“I love the thought of being a late bloomer,” Williams said.
Not surprisingly, he attributes his longevity largely to regular exercise. He used to run (and then walk) the bleachers at Stanford Stadium. Williams routinely took hikes, he said, until his mid-90s. He did pushups three times every week until his late 70s.
Now, at 100, Williams’ voice is raspy and his mind is sharp. He wrote a four-page piece on “How to Live to Be 100, a 9point Retirement Happiness Program,” complete with small black-and-white photos showing him at various stages of his life. That serves as his guide when he delivers motivational speeches at schools.
Some of his suggestions are familiar — exercise, avoid lifethreatening falls and seek passions. Williams also advocates the joy of writing, joining and participating in organizations, and the “power and pleasure of recognizing others and expressing gratitude.”
As for golf, he first shot better than his age (then 79) by posting 77 at Sharon Heights in Menlo Park. He called himself a casual player driven by the perpetual quest to improve. Williams used to take frequent lessons in London, where he once lived part of the year, and he joked about forgetting what he learned before he arrived back in the Bay Area.
But you’re never too old to believe a breakthrough sits on the horizon. Stanford women’s coach Anne Walker complimented Williams’ swing last year, a comment he thinks about every time he plays. Walker also introduced him to Cardinal standout Rachel Heck, who won last year’s NCAA championship; Williams hopes to host Heck at Menlo this spring or summer.
More than anything, Williams savors golf ’s social element. He and his playing partners joke about shooting a Union Oil (76) or El Camino (101). They embrace the camaraderie as much as the good shots.
“It’s just the conviviality golf brings — that’s meaningful to me and my life,” Williams said. “It’s such a good feeling, joking around with friends.”
After his brief session on the range last month, Williams was asked whether he still hits balls regularly. His response had nothing to do with being 100 or slowing down in the face of Father Time. Rather, he said simply, “I’ve got too much else to do.”
Consider his recent speaking appearance at Oak Knoll Elementary School in Menlo Park. The kindergarten class gave him a rousing ovation, and principal Alicia Payton-Miyazaki later sent Williams an email praising his presentation — mostly on the nine-point happiness program — and telling him how much it moved the students and teachers.
His chief project involves promoting sportsmanship in college football. This started about 20 years ago, when Williams bemoaned the way players on many teams often left the field abruptly after games, without acknowledging their fans.
Williams launched a persistent letter-writing campaign, trying to convince schools their football players should linger on the field win or lose. Salute the student section. Maybe sing the alma mater. This happened only occasionally in Williams’ experience, not routinely.
“It’s just common courtesy,” he said. “That goes a long way.”
He reached out to Ted Robinson, then Stanford’s radio play-by-play broadcaster, and sought his guidance. Cardinal teams coached by Jim Harbaugh and David Shaw eventually started to stay on the field, until it became habit.
Notre Dame proved a bigger challenge. Former head coach Charlie Weis started a tradition in 2006 of players gathering near the student section after games, raising their helmets and singing “Notre Dame, Our Mother.”
But in 2013, according to Williams, the school’s athletic director sent a letter to students saying football players would linger only after Fighting Irish victories. A friend forwarded Williams a newspaper story on the decision. Robinson, a Notre Dame alum, was skeptical about how his school would respond to outside pressure, and Williams initially got nowhere with letters to the university president and athletic director. But he kept at it, found an ally in the student-body president and gathered support.
Notre Dame players eventually
Bob Williams at Menlo Country Club. At age 100, Williams still plays nine holes at Menlo nearly every Sunday morning.
voted overwhelmingly to reverse the policy, he said, and resume staying on the field to acknowledge the students. Maybe it seems like a small gesture, but it mattered to Williams.
“I’ve never met anybody like Bob, with his longevity, energy and passion for taking on a project,” Robinson said. “That’s the thing with his sportsmanship drive — it’s given him a cause.”
Williams also organized an initiative to honor veterans at high school and college football games throughout the country. Navy, in turn, honored him for his volunteer work during a campus banquet several years ago in Annapolis, Md.
He became emotional telling the story, given his military background. Williams served on a Navy battleship during World War II, fending off kamikaze attacks.
“I have trouble saying this,” he said, fighting off tears, “but my fondest memory is that I served my country in a time of war.”
Williams lives in Menlo Park with his wife, Carol Mayer Marshall, who had a distinguished career in politics and law (she worked in two presidential administrations). He doesn’t walk everywhere as he
once did — he used to walk to Palo Alto to meet Robinson for lunch — so he leans on friends to give him rides.
That’s a small concession to 100 years on Earth, in the grand scheme. Friends such as Robinson find inspiration in the way Williams stays active. Robinson told the story of his grandfather, who was forced to retire at age 65 and later lamented waking up and wondering what to do each day.
That’s exactly what Robinson hopes to avoid — and Williams offers a blueprint.
“I look at Bob,” Robinson said, “and say, ‘That’s who I want to be.’ I want to wake up every day with something meaningful to do.”
Williams, with his 101st birthday only two-plus months away on June 23, remains strikingly upbeat. His discouragement over a few ground-ball shots on the range quickly faded into tales of his time in the Navy, and his more recent efforts to impact college sports.
“I’m just so happy I’m still alive, and alive with most of my marbles,” he said. “What a gift. Every day is a joy, really.”