Learning lessons from misfortune, tragedy and mistakes is one of the most common yet frustrating parts of life. We see it play out in different nuances and adages: in sports, we’re comforted that we learn more from a loss than a victory; in education and business, making mistakes is how we learn; in life events, the sad moments toughen us up and build character.

That last one becomes the finishing focal point and lasting discussion topic of the new documentary, “Sky So Blue,” an intimate one-hour perspective on five victims of the 9-11 terrorist attacks in 2001 from executive producer Timothy P. Oliver. The film is directed by David L. Trapasso Jr. and Michael J. Finnegan and is based on Oliver’s 2016 book, “Finding Fifteen,” which, like the documentary, looked at a select group of victims, their lives, their final movements on 9-11 and the aftermath for their families.

Timothy P. Oliver, left, and Gary MacNamara discuss Sky So Blue documentary.

In the premier I viewed at the 400-seat, beautifully renovated Sacred Heart University Community Theatre in Fairfield, Connecticut, on September 7th, Oliver and Trapasso were there to discuss their work. In a pre-show onstage Q&A with Oliver, Gary MacNamara, SHU’s executive director of public safety and government affairs, said the film brought life to the victims and asked Oliver about takeaways he had from his work. Oliver said, “People will see these five Americans and their families and how the attacks impacted and united the country but wonder how the greatest country can be divided so much in the time since. We see in these five how to love again, hope again and survive. The families have persevered. I’m proud to call the family members friends. They are amazing people. I hope the five people in the film touch viewers’ lives. This was an honor to do. I’ve been blessed that these people were brought into my life.”

Oliver began the evening with a moment of silence for the thousands of victims, service members and the hundreds of first responders who died. He had begun this journey into 9-11 research from his daily commute starting in 2016 to work in Lower Manhattan when Golf Digest magazine was moved in with the rest of the Conde Nast magazines into the Freedom Tower. Tim was an art designer there (he now does the same for The New York Times), and I was a coworker of his for many years as one of the editors. His somber walk past the 9-11 memorial site where the Twin Towers stood was something we all felt as we entered the building. From my office spot on the 27th floor, actually, I could turn and look down on the twin waterfalls and see the hundreds of people who were gathered all day long at any moment of the day, strolling around the memorial. When I left work at night, I usually took a diagonal path across the memorial to head to the subway station I entered. Nearly every time I walked through the area, I never heard a word of English. The site was visited by foreign visitors from around the world each and every day. Some had the wrong attitude of treating the area like a novelty tourist locale and gaped for photos. It reminded me of foreigners who would act that way at the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, goofing for photos in a way that made me think they didn’t realize the true meaning and symbolism of freedom that the bell represents.

At the 9-11 Memorial, however, the overall mood was respectful and you could see in people an understanding of the horrific event that took place and the senseless destruction of soul and building that was done. As if we need to have these constant reminders, it is understood there quite vividly that mankind truly has no boundaries in the hurt it can inflict on itself.

Tim would have likely been with me on September 11, 2001, working at the Golf Digest office, which at the time was in Trumbull, Connecticut, and just down the street from the SHU campus, where staff quickly tuned into the small TV in the main editor’s office and watched the attacks occur. Fifteen years later, Tim took the daily walks past the memorial as a motivating force to know the victims better and he randomly picked out 15 to profile in his book. From there he chose five to go greater in depth for the film. There was John Skala, a police officer who ran toward danger; Diane Urban, a tax auditor who could have saved herself but stayed and wouldn’t leave a wounded friend; Romeo Bishundat, a young man on duty to protect his country; Tony Luparello, a maintenance man/custodian who had survived the earlier terrorist bombing attack on the North Tower in 1993; and flight attendant Amy Nicole Jarret, who had gone to work that day filling in for a co-worker.

At the concluding moments of the documentary, it diverts from a study of the horrific ending to five lives among thousands and the sacrifices they made to what this blog started with: how do we learn from tragedies. First to be analyzed is, what do we take from this grievous loss of life? How do families, friends, the country, the world recover from an attack that was so vicious and cruel? How do we honor those who perished? How can we learn from the bravery of so many? Left unstudied—rightfully so, I feel—is the motivation for the attack itself. It was senseless and the attackers demonstrated how they had no respect for life. It was correct to not delve into any motivation on their part.

From telling the story of the featured five victims, the film jolts us back to the present and moves us into a surprise direction, bringing to focus one of the film’s “catchphrases”: United for days after, divided for years since. That refers to how the attacks brought the U.S.—and a great deal of the world—together in a unified reaction to the attacks but 20 years later the United States of America is in a great divide, politically and socially. A country that was built by a diverse group of forefathers to establish ideals that they agreed upon through compromise now is split between reality and delusion, truth and lies, sacrifice and selfishness, common sense and no sense. Compromise? That’s for sissies. There’s only one way: mine.

The film doesn’t make conclusions on how to solve this massive polarization although common sense says an end to the deliberate delusional pattern of mistruths would help. But the film does make a unifying statement that the memory of the victims of the September 11th, 2001, attacks on America call out for the nation to learn from their sacrifice, their bravery and the way the country came together because to do otherwise is to not appreciate what we have. We can see how it can all easily be taken away if we don’t stand unified and on our guard.
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“Sky So Blue” was the Winner of the Best U.S. Documentary at the Seattle Film Festival, and Best Documentary Feature at the New York International Film Awards. It received Honorable Mention at the Macoproject Film Festival 2021. It was an Official Selection at the 2021 Chesapeake Film Festival, the Chautauqua International Film Festival CIFF 2021, the DWF LA Film Festival, and Seattle Film Festival.

I’ve been holding onto this novel little item for three years and finally found the right time to write about it as this weekend’s John Deere Classic completed its 50th playing.

I had marshaled on the 17th hole in 2018 and while doing so did a little “research.” The 17th is the entertaining par 5 that can make or break a contender on Sunday at TPC Deere Run. On the day I was up at the tee box helping signal ball direction from behind the players, I watched as each player hit and began to entertain myself by watching what happened to their tee. Most of the players picked it up after hitting. Others couldn’t be bothered to bend over, especially if they’d hit a ball off line into trees or rough. I started wondering if the pros have anything more unique to hit off of than the regular hacker and began to occasionally pick up tees that had been abandoned to kill time between groups.

The photo you see here shows that the pros’ pegs are just like the ones the Average Joe uses. Referring to the photo from the top down, the tees range from the crowned plastic to blonde wooden to skinny black tipped to regular wooden white with Duke Blue Devil logo to striped pegs and a Professional Tee System model to a Ping brand and USGA issued and so forth. So except for the Duke tee, the assortment is the same grouping I’d have in my pocket based on what I’ve gathered round after round from a course golf shop or ones found on the teeing ground.

I used to tee the ball on white tees only for superstitious good luck, then the blonde-colored wood tee was all you could find and I stuck to that, but now I just grab whatever I have handy, even the hard plastic ones that have become very popular in the last few years. I guess that shows how hard the driver-head material is nowadays because back when we used wood woods the thinking was not to use plastic tees because they could damage the wood. There ain’t no way today’s clubs are going to be damaged by a tee.

So there you have it, the pros don’t do anything more scientific or unusual to tee up their golf ball than we would ours. Hackers worldwide will have to figure out some other excuse for why they don’t play worth a darn.

This weekend would have been the playing of another chapter in the special history of golf’s Ryder Cup, the biennial competition between two 12-player teams of male professional golfers from the United States and Europe. It would have concluded on Sunday with 12 Singles matches at Whistling Straits in Kohler, Wisconsin. The intense drama would have likely been there no matter the status of the match. If one team is leading by several points or it is a tied match, there is always building tension and excitement because Ryder Cup history has proven that anything can happen and usually does.
But the global virus pandemic shoved the playing to the same weekend in 2021 at the same marvelous location along Lake Michigan. All of last week, many golf media outlets filled the void of no Ryder Cup by doing many Ryder Cup fillers to mark what the week was supposed to be. Golf itself, since its inception, has been a sport praised for how it teaches life lessons, such as integrity, honesty, fair play, sportsmanship and camaraderie. There is usually something on the line to be won, but golfers can agree that it is the experience of being on the course in an outdoor environment that overrides everything. And the experience is something you share with your fellow players. Ultimately, as the thinking goes, the special social skills in golf become one with your daily life as well, thereby living a life of integrity, honesty and fair play.
Donald Trump, who should know these elements of the game since he is one of millions of golfers around the world, and his followers such as Sen. Mitch McConnell could learn something from Ryder Cup history that would be valuable as Republican “leaders” in Washington, D.C., right now. Not surprisingly, the focal figure in the lesson would be Jack Nicklaus, who is nearly universally called the greatest golfer in history. But what that title doesn’t reflect is that Nicklaus wasn’t just the greatest at playing the game, but in so many other facets of it as well. Two of them are critical for this opinion. First, Nicklaus had incredible perspective about the good will of competition and how he was going to share winning and losing with his fellow players, no matter which side of the outcome he was on. He reacted this way because he knew the future of the game depended on player integrity. Second, Nicklaus was great at sharing the “heat of battle” outcome and accepting that golf wasn’t all about him but could be mutually beneficial for others. Both of these traits Republicans would do well to adopt into their behavior in this year of extreme division in American government.
With 18 firsts and 19 seconds in major championships, Nicklaus had more moments in battling for victory than anyone else in pro history. Yet, if a photo was taken of him right after play was concluded standing next to the winning golfer, you would be hard pressed to know who won and who lost. In defeat, Nicklaus extended his hand in congratulations with a big smile and often walked off the green with his arm around the champion. Probably the prime example of this is The Open of 1977. Nicklaus walked off the final green at Turnberry with his arm around Tom Watson’s shoulders after losing by a shot to him. Nicklaus fiercely wanted to win, but in the loss, he understood his role at that moment was to share the experience and not make himself the focal point as runner-up over the winner.
The Ryder Cup lesson is from the 1969 match at Royal Birkdale, England, when it was the U.S. versus Great Britain & Ireland. Amazingly, due to archaic PGA of America rules, this was the first Ryder Cup Nicklaus played although he had been a pro for seven years. The overall outcome came down to the final hole on Sunday. Nicklaus was playing English star Tony Jacklin in the final Singles match and they came to the final hole all square and the overall score at 15½-15½. If Nicklaus or Jacklin could win the par-4 18th, they’d be the hero in their team’s victory. They each reached the green in two shots, Jacklin was about 25 feet away and Nicklaus 18, but their birdie putts did not leave them tap-ins for par. Jacklin came up two feet shy, but Nicklaus still had four to five feet. Jack putted first and his putt was a challenging left-to-right breaker. He holed out and in the immediate moment he thought of the big picture. He later said that his mind went to how Jacklin was the new British golf star and meant a lot to his country. If he were to miss his par putt, he would lose all that and be heavily criticized for blowing the match.
In seeing the big picture, Nicklaus gave Jacklin his putt and conceded the par in a moment that is celebrated as “The Concession.” Their match ended in a halve, and the overall team match was the first tie in Ryder Cup history, 16-16. Nicklaus picked up Jacklin’s ball marker, shook hands and said, as Jacklin recalls, “I don't believe you would have missed that but I’d never give you the opportunity in these circumstances.”
Nicklaus’ balance of thought in how he was one piece of that moment in golf history is what makes him golf’s greatest champion, not just player. He’d seen some unsavory behavior during the week that didn’t show players having the right perspective of what the spirit of the matches should be, which was friendship and camaraderie in a competitive arena but with emphasis on sportsmanship.
Jack saw that if he conceded the putt to end the match in a tie, it would promote better relations between the two sides. After the gesture, Jack, as was his habit, walked off the green with an arm around Jacklin’s shoulders. Jacklin did likewise and the two shared in the great 18-hole battle they had played.
There is no Jack Nicklaus in the national Republican leadership right now who sees the big picture. Someone who leads with balanced common sense and foresight rather than delusion. If there was, this country could ensure every qualified voter in this country gets their right to vote protected, could work as a partner with health experts to shutdown the virus pandemic, could reverse the racial divide that has exploded rather than encourage division, and could be true to their word instead of a hypocrite about Supreme Court nominees. But what else can we expect about the latter issue from McConnell? When Barack Obama was elected president in 2008, McConnell, as minority “leader,” said he would do all he could to work against Obama. Attaboy Mitch, that is great “leadership.” Where was the sentiment “I have differences with President Obama but I hope to find common ground to do great things for our country together”? In March 2016, when Obama put nominee Merrick Garland in place after Antonin Scalia died in February, it was eight months before the November election, plenty of time to have the Senate vote. But in an unprecedented abuse of his power as the now majority “leader,” McConnell said the nominee should be put forward by the person elected in November, which in his logic meant “the people” will have picked who should choose the next justice. He refused to allow the nominee to come up for vote. Did McConnell have the integrity to use the same “rule” after Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg died on September 18, a mere seven weeks from November’s election? Surely as a “leader” he knows to be consistent in how he manages business. But no, that’s asking too much of someone who for nearly four years has idly stood by under the rule of King Donald I. McConnell has done nothing Nicklaus-like to protect the greatness of America. Perhaps he needed a Rules of Golf-type rulebook to go by. How does his double standard help our government in the future? It clearly harms the future of political cooperation. He demonstrated a lack of integrity, but McConnell has lost his way and is part of the dumbing down of this country that’s been going full steam since 2017. His lack of integrity does nothing to keep the standards of our government high and consistent for the future.
Trump’s delusional behavior has a hardened group of followers who are easily duped by someone who loves the adulation and likes people who don’t ask questions and who just accept what he says without deep thinking. He is living the ultimate reality show and to him it’s all a game. When Trump says something is “fake news” that’s the clue for his faithful to roar in approval at his pandemic violating political revivals. But the definition of “fake news” for Trump is anything that is negative and casts a bad light on him no matter how accurate it is.
There was nothing fake about Jack Nicklaus. He was consistent in his standards, lived in the truth, and comported himself on the golf course as an example for future generations of golfers to follow. If only our political “leaders” could show the same standards we would have less delusion and more true reality that’s not a game show but real life.

Growing up in the central Illinois town of Bloomington in the 1960s and 1970s, I lived roughly halfway between Chicago and St. Louis on the old Route 66 line, now long since converted to I-55. Being able to travel the “Mother Road,” which went from Chicago to Los Angeles, is now nothing but a nostalgic memory. But 66 played a part in how I selected my favorite sports teams because the pro teams at each end of 66 were what I was most familiar with.

When it came to baseball, I had Chicago’s Cubs and White Sox at the north end of the state or the Cardinals of St. Louis right across the Mississippi River, both cities reachable by taking 66, Chicago a half hour closer. Going either direction had its plusses. Going to Chicago allowed stops at relatives who lived in Kankakee plus, of course, once in Chicago seeing the great museums and points of interest. And going to St. Louis took us through Springfield and all the Abraham Lincoln history and in St. Louis itself was the Arch, the river and Mark Twain influence, which I loved.

I played American Legion Little League baseball, and even though Wrigley Field was the first pro baseball field I went to as part of a paperboy trip, I was drawn to be a Cardinal fan, probably because they were winning the World Series at my impressionable age and the Cubs, well, they were the Lovable Losers, but I wasn’t feeling the love. Also, I recall our family going to Cardinal games but never to Cub games, and I probably took that as a sign of who I should root for. But how is this for a convincer: On the day I was born, May 24, 1959, the Cardinals and Cubs played at Wrigley Field, with St. Louis winning, 7-3. I guess you could literally say I was meant to be a Cardinal fan from the day I was born.

As a kid, you always knew the names of every baseball team’s starting eight and pitching staff. The Cardinal teams of the late 1960s were awesome: Cepeda at first, Javier at second, Maxvill at short, Shannon at third, Brock, Flood and Maris in the outfield, McCarver catching and a pitching staff led by Bob Gibson.

All of the childhood joy of being a Cardinal fan has been revived with me since the news of Lou Brock’s death on Sunday at age 81. And if ever the timing of someone’s passing could be called “fitting,” how appropriate that Brock died while the Cardinals and Cubs were playing another series in their legendary rivalry. It was the Cubs who traded Brock to the Cardinals back in 1964, just one of the many threads that knit these two teams together.

I really don’t feel I have a “favorite” Cardinal. I liked Ted Simmons a lot, and actually my favorite player of all-time is Brooks Robinson, who played for my second favorite team the Orioles. But Lou Brock would be in my top three Cardinals. I always wanted, but never got, one of the clever Brock-abella umbrella hats that he endorsed. Brock, in fact, was the focus of an early journalistic journey to St. Louis while I was in college at Illinois State University. I was going to school to get an English major and mass communication minor, with the dream of being a sports writer. I was working for the student paper, The Daily Vidette (now just The Vidette), and in the summer of 1979, Brock’s final season, I had arranged for a press pass to go to a Cardinal doubleheader, likely on Sunday, July 1, against Philadelphia. The plan was to see Brock before the first game, talk about all aspects of his career, then write a piece for the paper. I had taken a similar tack the previous year when I interviewed my all-time favorite athlete in any sport, John Havlicek, in his final season with the Boston Celtics.

That visit with Havlicek went marvelously well. The Vidette ran the story and I wrote about that experience earlier this year on my website on the one-year anniversary of Havlicek’s death. Going to see Lou Brock didn’t go so well, no fault of his. I was dependent on getting a ride to St. Louis and remember insisting that my ride leave at a certain time to make sure I got to Busch Stadium in plenty of time. Like most sports stadiums, if you didn’t hit the area at the right time, you were in a traffic logjam. At St. Louis, coming from the Illinois side of the river, you could be backed up across the bridge.

Sure enough, we didn’t leave when we needed to, and ran into a wall of traffic. By the time we got to the parking area, I knew I was doomed to do Plan A and talk with Brock pregame. All I remember is running to get entry through the press gate and down to the dugout. As I ran I thought of Plan B: I’ll just introduce myself and tell Brock my intent and ask to speak with him between games.

Engulfed in my own naivete, I got into the dugout entrance with no problem, with roughly 15 minutes before the 1:15 game time and there he was. Brock happened to be close by, and my throat clenched up. He just seemed to be in a bit of a zone by himself, just standing without doing much, staring out at the field. I, on the other hand, was pacing a little bit, wondering how I was going to make him aware of my plan. In what seemed like an hour but was likely just a few seconds of me lingering to get his attention, I finally started coming toward him, saying, “Mr. Brock.” But Lou, who’d certainly had young inexperienced “cub” reporters approach him before, must have known my intent. Before I could say anything further he said, “You’re a little too late, my friend.”

But, of course, a legendary speedster would recognize someone slow, and that was me. I had been slow to get there, but after his remark, I was fast to leave. Down the dugout ramp I went, out past the locker room and out into the main concourse where I belonged with the regular folks. It was only then that I sulked for awhile, mad at my ride, mad at myself, mad that I looked like an amateur. I felt like I’d had a setback in my young sports journalism career. Seeing Hondo had gone so well, but this was just the opposite. I tried to ease my mind by thinking that at least Brock wouldn’t know my name, because I didn’t get a chance to pitch it. I joined the others in my party in our seats.

I have no recollection of how the rest of the day in St. Louis went, although I recall it was a beautiful weather day. The Cardinals won both games, but I remember telling the others that I wasn’t feeling up to going back down between games or after Game 2. The wind had been taken out from my sails and my enthusiasm for the task was nil.

I wasn’t upset with Brock or changed my team loyalty. I just remember thinking over and over that I didn’t want to speak with him then, I just wanted to tell him I would like to meet him later in the day. Why wouldn’t he let me speak to him? I was just trying to do the courteous thing. But after I “grew up” as a sports reporter, I realized that wasn’t necessary. He didn’t need to know I was there and I could have approached him cold later. I could have met him with the rest of the reporters afterward. And as I look back on it today, I just think of it as a learning experience that happens to everyone.

As a Cardinal fan, my Lou Brock experience is pretty solid. It mainly consists of watching him play his career with the Cardinals and hearing Jack Buck beautifully call his games. A friend, Bump Williams, who has been to many Cardinal Legends camps, brought back a Lou Brock autographed hat, which will never be worn or spoiled.

Then there’s the one brief encounter in which Lou Brock told me I’d been late to the game, an observation of tardiness no one ever associated with him, one of the speediest and well liked players in baseball history.

Shalom, greetings, grace and blessings to you,

I am the Bible Donald Trump displayed last night in front of St. John’s Church in Washington, D.C. To anyone who truly opens a Bible’s pages and studies God’s Word, taking its teachings to heart, the Bible speaks to that person and changes them into the person that God wants them to be so they can live a God-pleasing life to live and work with their fellow man in humble service.

If you would allow me, I’d like to speak to something else, to the feelings I had about last night. It felt very odd and different, and frankly, I say this sincerely that it didn’t feel right to me. I am used to sitting in a church pew rack or on a nightstand or in a classroom or smaller versions of me are carried in readers’ pockets or purses so they can hold me close to their heart and refer to me when they need to and read me as often as possible for enlightenment. By and large I am an intimate part of my owner’s life or of a congregation’s worship and education or of a religious school’s main sources.

Last night, however, I was held by Donald Trump and I felt manhandled and used and I want to tell you it was wrong. He brandished me like a product, like he was on a home-shopping network selling me. (Hey, did you know I’m already the most published book in history? No brag, just a proud fact!) How else would you explain some of his poses for the cameras…showing my spine so people could read “Holy Bible” on me, hoisting me in the air as he stood alone in front of a church, looking down ponderously each time giving the camera that stern clenched jaw look like he’s one tough hombre, like he’s the marshal in High Noon waiting for Frank Miller. It was like the scene he orchestrates when he signs an agreement in the White House and holds it up like a student showing his handwriting to a teacher. That’s not right. I’m not to be “used” for someone’s personal agenda, but used for reading, teaching, learning and increasing faith in God.

I don’t even know how I got to be in that scenario in the first place because I fully realize the United States is in a national crisis, the likes we haven’t seen in many years. I sense the sadness and hurt. Being outdoors at night is not a smart thing to do in recent days all across this great country, and I prefer not being out in the smoky air. It’s hard to get the smell out, you know. But I understand the air would have been fine if peaceful protesters hadn’t been hit with unnecessary tear gas. I suspect that was to set a scene to show how Donald Trump would handle demonstrators. But I also feel it was done so he could have the way safely cleared so he could walk to church and make it look like all was under control. But it was all a charade, and religion is no charade. Anyone who encouraged Trump to do this should be ashamed because they are misusing me. And any person or news network that doesn’t point out the heresy of this is not serving the public good but their own narrow agenda and supporting ineptitude and deceit.

I wouldn’t have minded being in his meaty fingers outdoors in the smoke if he had actually paused and opened me up and read from my verses. Then there would have been beauty in the air and the word of God would have been spoken and been a focal point and had an impact in this crisis. But from what I understand, last night was another example of Donald Trump as a missed opportunity in U.S. politics. Just as to this point he’s been the biggest missed opportunity in political history, not elected as a regular Republican or Democrat but an outsider who could have changed things in a positive way, he’s done nothing but made things worse. And just as no one last night came to my defense to stop the misuse of me, no one in his party is willing to tell him he’s wrong and stand up to him. I hear of how John McCain did, but sadly that American patriot is gone.

Perhaps Donald Trump didn’t stop to open my pages last night because he was unsure of where to go. That is a distinct possibility. He doesn’t inspire a belief that he is sincere about being religious when he can’t even talk like a spiritual man. Who can forget, before he even became president, when he tried to quote 2 Corinthians 3:17 and called it Two Corinthians instead of Second Corinthians? Readers of me learn how to say that correctly in Sunday School! And he said that at Liberty University of all places, where my fellow Bibles are used in abundance.

All Donald Trump would have needed to do last night to be safe would have been to go to the first chapters of Matthew in the New Testament. In Chapter 5 the beautiful Beatitudes would have been very appropriate—Verse 9 says, Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called sons of God—and in Chapter 6:5-8 he would have known God’s people are to be humble and not boastful about their spiritual life. But had he gone into my pages, knowing how his presidency has gone, he would have opened to Numbers in the Old Testament and been completely flummoxed.

Today in the light of day, I now sit back in repose. I hope to never be used like that again, by Donald Trump or anyone. I am a proud Revised Standard Version, after all, arguably one of the best translations of the Bible, and I want to keep my integrity. I don’t want to be used like a campaign sign again, and if I am used in photos in the fall for the next election, more great harm will be done to what I stand for. I would hope Mr. Trump would keep picking me up, but in private, and open up to read about real leaders, such as Moses, Abraham, the Apostle Paul, and of course, Jesus. If he took leadership traits from them all, he could be more effective. He would also learn about how effective supporters can be of great help and seek out people who could serve him as Aaron and Hur did Moses, holding up his arms when he felt weak.

Last night Donald Trump didn’t feel strong to me, he felt weak.

Whether he’s posing with a winner’s check, a trophy, his 58 scorecard, or with wife, Tabitha, Jim Furyk breaks out of his on-course stoicism with one of the best champion smiles in professional golf. It’s a smile that symbolizes someone who understands the values that helped him get to where he is as one of the most accomplished golfers of the last 20 years.

Attendees at last night’s 68th Gold Tee Award Dinner of the Metropolitan Golf Writers Association were treated to a short primer on what made Jim Furyk a champion golfer, major winner and appealing Everyman figure. He was given the evening’s main award, the Gold Tee, but was actually the 69th recipient since both Frank Hannigan and P.J. Boatwright Jr. were the joint honorees in 1986.

Furyk was the final speaker of the evening at the 68th Gold Tee Dinner.

I’m not as old as the Gold Tee Dinner. I’m approaching 60 so I am feeling the Gold Tee and I are close to the same vintage. But I’ve seen nearly every Gold Tee Dinner since Kathy Whitworth was the honoree in 1984 and the acceptance speech Furyk gave at the Westchester Marriott in Tarrytown, New York, was one of the best I’ve seen at the dinner. It was heartfelt, meaningful, with just the right pace and delivery. In the early years of the Gold Tee, the dinner was held at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York and major figures from show business and golf across the country attended. The talk Furyk gave would have been worthy of a national audience.

Anyone familiar with Furyk knows his reputation for being a hard worker who excelled despite his unorthodox swing. But his speech emphasized values, the kind of values that can only come from learning lessons from those people who are influential in a person’s life. Furyk went through his main influences: his parents, wife Tabitha (who herself gives her husband a run for his money as the ideal spouse of a tour pro), his agent Andrew Witlieb and caddie Mike (Fluff) Cowan.

As he described the influence each person had over him, Furyk warned the attendees he’d get emotional in discussing their importance and affect on him. He clearly believes in drawing inspiration from those close to him and he learns essential life skills from them. He was especially poignant in talking about how his parents were proud of him, not particularly because of winning but because he did his best and that’s all that can be expected. He hoped that he could be the type of father who would impress that quality on his own children, of loving them for their effort and not being upset with them if they failed.

The Furyks are proactive in charity work and with the Jim and Tabitha Furyk Foundation, which supports, among other things, needy school children and military families.

There were several other awards given out during the evening, which I attended as a guest at the Golf Digest table. I encourage you to read about them at metgolfwriters.org.

Most of the boasting I hear from golf pals about summer golf exploits and golf trips has to do with faraway locations and grand treks to remote places that shock the system with their beauty and never-to-forget moments.

In my best Charlie Brown inflection: I got a tee.

Okay, let me write it louder: I got the World’s Largest Golf tee! Yea, that’s better!

You read that correct. My brag moment is to write that I saw and touched the World’s Largest Golf Tee. I wasn’t even looking for the World’s Largest Golf Tee, it found me. My wife, Mary, and I were traveling to her high school reunion in the Quad Cities (exact number not to be revealed upon penalty of added house chores) in July, going along I-70 in southern Illinois to first visit longtime friends near St. Louis when the roadside sign just blared out: World’s Largest Golf Tee, next exit.

Six-foot-1 me was no match for 30.5-foot World’s Largest Golf Tee.

Well, we weren’t in that big of a rush that we couldn’t stop to see the WLGT, so we got off at Casey, Illinois, and, because the WLGT isn’t as tall as a sequoia, we still had to follow the signs. It didn’t take long, though, to realize we were heading toward a golf course, Casey Country Club to be exact, a nine-hole course opened in 1929 that’s not a true country club. It’s open to the public.

As we headed along the course toward the entrance, it had the look of a vintage Florida resort course: narrow, straight fairways, ditch-type creeks that you could hop over, and tiny greens that were flat circles. But as we approached the entrance, there it was, sticking up over the clubhouse: the top of a tee! Man, I thought, it would take Paul Bunyan to break that tee with a driver!

I have to admit, after wondering during the drive if we were going to see some foot-tall wooden peg in a display case, I got a little excited to see what this was all about. We weren’t the only ones. There were a few cars in the parking lot with non-Illinois plates, such as some folks we later chatted with who were traveling from Texas up to Canada and who had been sucked in like we had.

The WLGT is set up in a grassy area with a circular path leading from the clubhouse to the base of it. It really is a golf tee, 30.5 feet tall, and I found out from the shop staff that the tee is built to spec. It’s a golf tee that’s all grown up. By my poor math, that would mean the golf ball would be about 60 feet tall; since tees range quite a lot from short pegs for par 3s to four inches or so for drivers, I’m just guessing this would be a normal-size tee. There are plans to put an 18-foot diameter golf ball on the top but have it open so golfers could tee off on an adjacent hole. I just learned this week that an additional plan is being thought over: to construct a golf club to go alongside the ball. Now we do need Paul Bunyan.

Casey CC constructed the tee with various widths of yellow pine wood, 60 gallons of glue and 120 pounds of screws and it weighs 6,659 pounds.. It took six months to assemble, and the Guinness Book of World Records ceremony took place in January 2013. The tee was set on May 23rd of that year.

I’m no marketing genius, but it was clear the tee was installed to bring golfers, tourism and interest to the course. Visitors are guided to go through the clubhouse to get out to the tee, and like the gift shop at the end of a Disney ride, the walkthough takes you past WLGT souvenirs, along with the snack bar. You know what, that didn’t bother me. I didn’t buy anything. Mary and I took pictures. I grabbed a scorecard, we chatted with some people and left.

As we drove away, the tall tee in the rearview mirror, the thought of a 30-plus foot tee seemed so appropriate. After all, we were just 130 miles east of a 630-foot tall arch that was grounded next to a 2,350-mile long river. It all made real good sense.

Like most astute golf observers, Alice Buckley is also concerned about defending Open champion Jordan Spieth’s dormant performance on the golf course. The 97-year-old third cousin to Spieth, Mrs. Buckley has never met her famous relative, but hopes to or at least speak by phone. She makes it clear she doesn’t want to interfere with his life.

I met Alice during a visit last year—after Spieth’s Open victory—with my in-laws Bill and Mary Ellen Hynd in East Moline, Ill. The Hynds are in the same retirement facility, Park Vista, with Mrs. Buckley. Alice’s mother, Maude, was a sister in Muscatine, Iowa, to Spieth’s great-grandmother, Hazel, who would marry a Spieth. Jordan’s grandfather, Don, who lives in Bethlehem, Pa., is from Muscatine and played golf as a youth, including for Muscatine High School.

Alice Buckley does her needlepoint magic in this well-stocked room.

In a visit with my wife, Mary, and me last week during the John Deere Classic, Mrs. Buckley spoke with concern about the state of Spieth’s game, and her motherly instinct kicked in when she said she thought he looked thinner. She’s hoping a return to the championship he won will give him a spark.

Family items from Alice Buckley's ancestors still have a cherished spot in her residence.

Seeing Alice is always a delight. To observe someone her age so engaged in life is remarkable. Born Alice Brei on March 13, 1921, in Muscatine, which is 40 miles west of the Quad Cities along the Mississippi River, she was the oldest of 15 children. Her life today consists of a focus on reading (she’s engulfed in the Winston Graham “Poldark” books now) and creating incredible needlepoint works of art. She makes greeting cards using needlepoint and thread in calligraphy style. The designs on the cover are exquisite, and Mary Ellen would often send them to us as encouragement after a job loss. Alice plays the organ and will regale residents on Fridays during happy hour with her skill at the keyboard. She first realized she was related to Jordan Spieth when he made his debut in the John Deere in 2013.

She said she'll be watching the Open from her room, likely encouraging Spieth while working on her crafts. She has a wonderfully resilient, confident outlook on life. When I asked her what her favorite season of the year was, she said, “Whatever season of the year it happens to be.”

Two World Golf Hall of Fame members—Hubert Green and Peter Thomson—passed away in a 24-hour timespan.

Alabama native Green, 71, a 19-time PGA Tour winner who won the 1977 U.S. Open and 1985 PGA, died Tuesday, no longer able to fight off the effects of throat cancer, which he’d suffered from for several years. Green was a distinctive swinger, with his hands held low and the club swung quickly and briskly. His tenacious ability was never more on display than when he won the U.S. Open under a death threat in the final round at Southern Hills.

The Australian Thomson (pictured on home page), born within weeks of Arnold Palmer in 1929, died at age 88 on Wednesday. Thomson was one of the first international stars who brought his game to several continents. He won his fifth Open Championship in 1965, tied with Tom Watson, J.H.Taylor and James Braid for second behind Harry Vardon’s six victories. The knock against Thomson was his American record; he only won once on the PGA Tour. His low ball-flight was better on links-style courses, not U.S. parkland courses. But he was more than a shotmaker. He was a cerebral man who was opinionated and worldly and sought after for his leadership on world golf issues. Three times he captained the International team in the Presidents Cup.

I met him on a couple of occasions, the most enjoyable at a Florida tour stop when I was asked to get his opinion on an architectural issue. He spoke with great articulation and intelligence and I couldn’t have been more impressed with his fervent opinions. He liked to know what was going on in the game and he wanted to be a part of its future direction.

Thomson didn’t suffer fools too well and had a great practical nature. He would talk amusedly about Palmer, hinting Arnie could have achieved more by keeping his mind on his golf rather than show so much interest in being Arnold Palmer. But Thomson appreciated talent and he himself was interested in a wide-range of hobbies and interests. He was an original, no question, and it’s a shame the golf world has lost someone of his stature who was a link to when players were admired more for being strategic and playing the game along the ground rather than the modern bomb and gouge approach. 

When Doug Ford passed away on Monday May 14, the primary focus put on him was that he was the oldest living Masters champion. But the distinction was even greater: Ford was the oldest-living winner of any major championship.

Ford was born in West Hartford, Connecticut, on August 6, 1922, roughly a half-year ahead of fellow World Golf Hall of Fame member Jack Burke Jr. Like Ford, Burke won a Masters and a PGA, and now he is the oldest-living past major winner. Burke was born on January 29, 1923. That's Ford on the left in the photo on the home page, having Burke put the Masters jacket on him in 1957.

Ford's memorable book on the short game from 1963.

Ford won 19 PGA Tour events and had similarities to Billy Casper, the under-appreciated titan who played in the shadow of the Big Three of Palmer, Player and Nicklaus.

It took many years for Ford to finally be elected to the WGHOF, but he had long since been fully appreciated by his peers. He was respected for his play and opinions; he was an important player in the formation of the senior tour, and served as a Player Director on the Senior PGA Tour Division Board.

He was notable for a few on-course habits. He was one of the fastest players in tour history; sometimes he'd force the issue a bit too much, and be well down the hole ahead of his playing companions, who felt like he was trying to rush them along too much. I recall seeing it first hand at the 1985 Golf Digest Commemorative senior event on the second hole at Newport Country Club when he was a half-a-hole ahead of the other guys in the group. Granted, he was walking in the rough to leave the fairway open, but such a brazen approach went with his reputation for being a straight-talker. But his opinions helped make him a leader among tour players. And he had an outstanding short game. He authored 11 articles for Golf Digest, mainly about the wedge, in the 1960s, a time when golfers devoured instruction from the touring pros in print. He authored “The Wedge Book” in 1963 with the magazine as publisher and its information is still priceless advice.

Born seven years before Arnold Palmer, Ford was easing out of his prime as Arnold was taking the game on his shoulders. But it’s setting facts correct for posterity to say that Doug Ford was one of the golf figures who had the game in excellent shape so Arnie could take it to greater heights.

I met Louise Suggs once and she made a stronger impression in that lone encounter than some people I’ve met several times over. The occasion was an LPGA Tour press conference in Manhattan probably 20 years ago, likely a promotional effort that the tour did from time to time to get their players more deeply ingrained in the minds of the New York-area media members.

Suggs did nothing that day to affect the reputation she had of being, as she was often quoted saying, “one tough broad.” She was dressed top to bottom in a black leather outfit, pants and jacket. When she spoke she exuded a tough exterior, kind of a no-nonsense manner that I didn’t take to be the real Suggs. Her reputation for being rough-hewn was definitely being projected, but I had the impression she was doing that to let people know she wasn’t a pushover. She was likely 65 to 70, long past her prime but she was a hard competitor on the course and the tough demeanor that seemed omnipresent was part of her resolve to appear she wouldn’t be intimidated.

Louise Suggs on a tour of Hawaii in 1952.

Highly honored longtime golf writer Ron Sirak knew Suggs, who died in August 2015, as well as any media member and quoted her in a 2011 story as saying her strongest attribute as a player was, “When I had someone down, I put my foot on her throat.”

Suggs comes to my mind this weekend because the pro tours are hopping around Hawaii in January as they usually do, providing the majority of America with some well-needed visions of golfers on a tropical golf course while cold and snow are viewed out the window. These pictures from Hawaii, though, as I’ll explain in a bit, can be credited in some small way to Suggs herself, born a long way from Hawaii in Georgia, and who was an LPGA Tour pioneer with 11 majors in a World Golf Hall of Fame career. She made a promotional tour of the islands back in the 1950s, helping put golf in Hawaii in the mainstream as the sport slowly emerged out of infancy in the land that would become a U.S. state in 1959.

It’s been more than 50 years since the Hawaiian Open (now called the Sony Open in Hawaii) and its pineapple-shaped tee markers, blue skies, ocean waters, beaches, palm trees, and shots of hula girls has been on the PGA Tour schedule. But amateur and pro golf have been no stranger to the islands and predate this visual tour delight. Hawaii’s First Lady of Golf, Jackie Pung, the 1952 U.S. Women’s Amateur winner, served as an ambassador for golf in Hawaii for decades, passing away last March at age 95.

For the record, the first Hawaiian Open was played in 1965, won by Gay Brewer at Honolulu’s Waialae Country Club, where the Sony Open in Hawaii is still played. And here’s a surprise: The Hawaiian tour stop wasn't in its present January configuration on the tour schedule at first. From 1965 to 1969, the tournament was played in November, except for late October in '66. But after the event took a year off in 1970, it went to February in 1971 and has been held toward the start of the calendar year ever since.

The Hawaiian Open had been attracting pros well before that, however, while Hawaii was a territory. Waialae hosted a tournament in 1928, attracting a group of well-known mainland pros returning from a tour of Australia. From then until 1965, a Hawaiian Open was held every year but five, spread over five venues, but mainly played at Waialae. During that time, star mainland players such as Gene Sarazen, Craig Wood, Horton Smith, Harry Cooper, Tommy Armour, Olin Dutra, Ed Dudley, Billy Burke, Paul Runyan, Denny Shute, Jimmy Thomson, Ed Furgol, Leo Diegel, Cary Middlecoff, Lloyd Mangrum, Lawson Little, Bob Rosburg and Jerry Barber competed along with a host of local talent, led by Francis H. I'i Brown and 1966 winner Ted Makalena.

Golf in Hawaii was promoted in many other ways, of course, over the years, with resort promos and advertising. But one clever and ambitious promotion for the time took place in 1952, when the PGA of Hawaii invited Suggs, that year's National Open winner, to spend three weeks on the islands starting October 22. While representing the MacGregor club company, she played numerous exhibitions at a number of courses, including a team match against Pung. The personable Suggs gave a few clinics as well, done in her inimitable dynamo style and flair.

Red McQueen, a Honolulu sportswriter, wrote approvingly of her, "Miss Suggs, a trim number with a fetching smile and cracker drawl, is a stylist in every sense of the word. She is as fast a player as ever appeared here. She walks up to her ball, selects a club, fixes her little tootsies and without hesitation or hula, smacks the ball cleanly toward the pin."

That's not quite the ideal language to use these days, but for the time, PR material of any kind was helpful to describe the joys of golf in Hawaii. With the PGA Tour once again wrapping up a two-week stay in Hawaii this weekend, and the Champions Tour coming in this week, you're likely to see some of the men hesitate over the ball but let's hope, like Louise Suggs, none of them will hula.

This time of year presents so many symbols of hope and wishes of peace to all mankind, but perhaps none are as beautifully rendered as creches and Christmas trees, which is why I want to feature them in this post to express my greetings to my website visitors.

I have the good fortune of living near the culturally alive New Haven area, specifically Yale for one, but also to be near the international headquarters for the Knights of Columbus. In the K of C museum, the organization put together an exhibit of creches from around the world, made in a variety of materials, from paper to ceramic. They also did an annual Christmas tree contest involving schools in Connecticut and the 25 or so entries were beautiful works of art.

Please enjoy the slideshow portfolio below of creche examples (click on an image to flip through), as well as a photo of a pair of tree entrants. All of this is to express my best wishes for a beautiful and peaceful holiday time and a great 2018.                                                                Cliff Schrock

Ceramic, wood and paper were used for creche material at an exhibit in the Knights of Columbus museum this holiday season.

St. Mark's school in Stratford, Conn., was a contest winner.

For a man just turned 56, I’d wager Anthony (Tony) Scott had gazed upon Millard Sheets’ Word of Life mural on the south wall of the Hesburgh Library—aka Touchdown Jesus—and other Notre Dame landmarks more than anyone else of his age. Had to have been thousands of times he’d walked on and visited the campus, as a student and later as a local leader of the Notre Dame Club. That’s more than enough times to have tired of the view and become weary of trips to and around the fabled campus in northern Indiana, less than 100 miles from where he grew up in his hometown of Chicago.

Tony Scott on one of his many trips to see the Irish play.

But to be bored with anything he loved in life would not have been possible for Tony Scott. I think one of the greatest things to say about someone is that they are engaged in life, that they love life. That was Tony. Beginning with his faith in God, his love for his perfect partner, Patty, and son, Alex, and his desire to help and lead other people, Tony never tired of his zest for life.

Tony jamming with sister-in-law Mary and goddaughter Joelle.

Among the many traits I admired about Tony, the most important was the devotion he had to things he held dear. After faith was his family. He and I, along with Glen, John, Dan and Rory, married into Bill and Mary Ellen Hynd’s sorority of six girls, who grew up in Moline, Ill., part of the Quad Cities. Patty and Alex were clearly the apple of Tony’s eye. But in addition to being a devoted Christian family man, he had great passion for what life offered: to his alma mater Notre Dame (he had a degree in mechanical engineering), his church Christ the King, guitar music, his idol Willie Nelson, baseball and the Cubs, the Knights of Columbus. He even had passion for hockey pucks and baseball caps, he had collections of both.

But there are more Tony traits. He—and Patty—were highly honored but humble and full of humility. He was what we need more of in this angry world: a giver to the max, not a taker. He was astoundingly happy and upbeat, even when us Connecticut residents and Cardinal and Packer fans would stay in his house on visits. We were nuisance reminders of how the UConn Huskies usually had the edge on the Irish in women’s basketball. And if that didn’t sour his mood, what would? But that was Tony, he was a gracious man.

Tony was loyal and proud regarding so many aspects of his life and his work. He was a proud Uncle Tony to all his nieces and nephews. He knew he could speak to them like a parent but never actually act like one. He was “all in” for Alex, and quickly exchanged his cherished Notre Dame hat for an Illinois State one this fall to support his freshman son and his school. And my wife, Mary, and I will be forever grateful for how proud Tony was to be godfather to our daughter Joelle.

3 men on a boat: Bob Hurst, Tony and the writer motor-boatin' at Merritt Island, Fla.

Tony’s devotion to the blue and gold of ND would have impressed Knute Rockne. Tony had an overflow of Irish artifacts in the house, ranging from several knick-knack, booster-type items to mementos as a student hockey club manager to the awards of excellence as the president of the Notre Dame Club of the Quad Cities, which he did for nearly 20 years. By all accounts, he was a fabulous No. 1, leading gatherings and bus trips. It is a four-hour drive from the Quad Cities to South Bend, all on I-80, and he and Patty led their final one together on Oct. 28, seeing a 35-14 victory over N.C. State.

The Facebook photos of that trip are now hard to look at, because it was just two days later after that success, while with Patty on a business trip in Atlanta for his employer, Exelon, of Cordova, Ill., that Tony collapsed and died suddenly in the evening, while heading back to the hotel after dinner.

Tony and Joelle having a Quad Cities classic: Whitey's ice cream.

There had to have been 1,000 or more mourners who paid their respects on Nov. 5 at Tony’s visitation at Christ the King, and several hundred at his funeral service the next day. Mary and I were honored to speak words of remembrance, but it was hard to make sense of the grief and shock we felt that a Man in Motion like Tony could be stopped so suddenly and taken from us. We want to hug him again, shake his hand again, and hang out with him again. We ask: Where is the comfort, where is the relief for those left to grieve? The only comfort were Christian thoughts, mainly that Tony is more alive now than when he was among us. That kind of thinking takes the often-used phrase that our “loved one is in a better place” to a new level of understanding and assurance for the grieving. It is for sure that Notre Dame couldn’t have a more loyal booster now looking out for them from up above, just in time to face Miami and the end-of-season schedule.

Tony Scott will always be in our hearts. As a fellow brother-in-law, we carried each other when the other needed it, and on his funeral day, all the brothers-in-law carried their brother to his resting place.

Golfers appreciate that they’re playing a sport often described as “a game for a lifetime.” But when you’re at that age when the lifetime part is starting to be realized, the phrase truly takes on a fuller meaning. By that I mean golf isn’t just a sport to play in middle and old age, but the experience of playing golf is to be valued all the more the older you get.

Additionally, you can appreciate that the friendships you developed at a young age with golf buddies last a lifetime as well. I have had a special year in 2017 not only enjoying playing golf 45 years after I started, but the friendships I started in my teens through golf were vibrantly alive and flourishing this year. I could sense how golf rewards you, in a variety of ways, when you are patient with it and remain faithful to what it can do for you.

Kevin Edwards and Drew Weisenborn in the Waterloo CC club title match.

I want to describe this special year in two parts. In this Part I, the lesson is how patience does pay off, and in a later Part II, I’ll write about how golf as the foundation for a reunion with old friends has few equals. In both parts, it’s the strength of golf as a common bond among friends as juniors and young men that allows great moments to occur years and years later.

Golf brought Kevin Edwards and me together while attending Illinois State University. I was sports editor at The Vidette student newspaper, and my recollection is we ran a student golf event that Kevin played in on the university course, since rechristened Weibring Golf Club at Illinois State University. Friendship grew from there and in the ensuing years we roomed together and became best man at each other’s wedding. Fact: I delivered an all-time great toast that has been lost in the mist of time; a toast that was a toast, not what happens today with half-hour long monologues. Up for debate: I supposedly predicted at some point that the marriage wasn’t going to last forever. If so, I likely delivered it in my dry-wit style and didn’t mean it. I’m not that great of an off-the-cuff speaker. Kevin and Debi are at 35 years strong, successes in their business lives, too, and I choose to feel the power of my toast had the greater effect. Man I wish I knew what I’d said!

Anyway, along with Bloomington High School and ISU friends Rick Gilbert and Pete Wofford (more on them in Part II), along with Pantagraph sports writer Jim Benson, Kevin and Co. make up the core of my best golfing buddies from the “way back when" days. Even though Kevin and I live 1,000 miles apart, we stay in touch about life in general and golf-game status.

Now, Kevin, Rick and Pete were miles ahead of me as golfers, both in talent and driving distance. That’s why I chose to write about golf as a career. However—comma—on my good day and their bad, I could hang and challenge with them, perhaps even score lower. I seemed to do that fairly often with Kevin, probably because my mediocre game didn’t inspire his best. I don’t know how much it frustrated or irritated him when I shot lower, but I didn’t take it as me being better. And as time went on, Kevin was competing in events at a higher level. He had the consistency I lacked and therefore he had the ability to be a competitor in tournaments and club events.

Because you can play golf well into your dotage—given good health—the game rewards you for being patient, ranging from occasional good shots to, given the correct circumstances of good play in the right setting, winning moments that satisfy your desires. That’s what happened to Kevin. When he sent a recap of his golf this fall, he was runner-up in the regular championship—the Don Barlow Match Play Tournament—at Waterloo (Ill.) Country Club (WCC), but won the senior club championship, winning 1 up over multi-regular club champion Chuck Keller.

Kevin’s WCC summary now is six senior club titles and three regular club championships, with a runner-up finish in each, and, get this, all of this came after the age of 50. Waterloo was founded in 1925 and is a par-34, nine-hole layout just under 2,500 yards. It’s not scary by any means but the short length equalizes a match between bad and good players and when two top golfers go at it there is no room for error.

Kevin has a 9-2 record in club championship matches. As he notes, “not bad.” The regular final was Kevin, the 58-year-old defending champion, versus Drew Weisenborn, 25, who perhaps will turn pro in the near future. Right there the inter-generational beauty of golf was evident but for Kevin it was also a harsh reality of the competitive imbalance that exists between golfers 30-plus years apart. Normally the longer driver of the ball in his matches, Kevin was against a longer opponent. “Drew hits his 2-iron as long or longer than my driver,” Kevin noted. “My guess is he is three clubs longer than me so he hits wedge when I hit 7-iron.”

So when young Drew found himself 2 down after nine holes of a 36-hole match, it wasn’t panic time. Kevin had birdied four holes with a bogey on the first nine, then shot six over the next nine and was 3 down. His deficit was 5 down after 27 holes when he played the third nine one over par. When Kevin made bogey on No. 1 the fourth time around, the gig was up and the final was lost, 7 & 6. “If I would have won the hole to get it to 4 down, who knows, maybe I get a lift and he gets rattled, but probably not,” Kevin said. “Drew is a great guy and deserving champion. Although I had one bad nine, I did not really beat myself, he was the better golfer.

“Looking at the scorecard I figured out where the match got away from me. I won the 22nd hole to go 3 down. The next four holes I went par, par, par, bogey. Drew went birdie, birdie, par, eagle; 6 down with 10 to play is not a good place to be.”

No, it’s not, an inevitable loss was looming. That’s golf, it giveth and it taketh away. It had given Kevin so much in recent years, but it doesn’t give you everything. But after a few decades of thinking he could be a club champion, and then being one nine times over, he has the perspective of not needing everything. He already had something several times over, the result of patience and good fortune and the right competitive moment for golf to make true the phrase "all things come to those who wait."

Those of us with enough years behind us to have witnessed the entire history of the Tour Championship have thoughts and impressions about what has fully become one of the PGA Tour’s premiere events.

Something that stood out to me at first, not all that favorably, was the commercialized nature of the tournament title for an event that was intended to be special and unique. The first year, in 1987, it was the Nabisco Championships of Golf. It wasn’t much better in 1988: Nabisco Golf Championships. Then the next two years it was shortened to Nabisco Championships.

Tom Watson celebrates the end of a winless drought at the 1987 Tour Ch.

The plural “championships” confused me. It was one marquee championship, not multiple. Of course, the tournament wasn’t utilized at the end of the season as it is now where it tops off a four-event playoff. Initially it was just a year-end event for the top elite money-makers, but I don’t think too many people thought the winner was the actual champion of the golf season. He was just the winner of a substantial money event, adding to an already excellent money year. The fact that Tom Watson, struggling to regain his dominant form and a nonwinner for three years, won the first playing gave the tournament immediate legitimacy and substance.

The focus of the event turned in 1991 when it was renamed the Tour Championship and went to Pinehurst No. 2. That made the purpose of the event clearer, but not fully. If the Players Championship was the tour’s self-proclaimed fifth major, the Tour Championship could not be considered above it and couldn’t really be thought of as the championship event of the tour season. Again, it just felt like another big-money, limited-field event helping the elite become more elite. It didn’t help that starting in 1995, sponsors once again peppered the title, among them Mercedes-Benz, Michelob, Southern Company, and Coca-Cola. The event was called the Tour Championship "presented" by one of those sponsors.

But we finally have arrived at simply the Tour Championship, and Coca-Cola and Southern Company are “proud partners.” In combination with the FedEx Cup playoffs since 2007, the Tour Championship now feels like an appropriate year-end conclusion and more than just a limited-field tournament that makes the rich richer. All the jostling for points to make it into the top 30 builds all year until the last week or two puts a real emphasis on who will sneak into the top 30 as well as focusing on those top players who might win the whole thing.

It has also helped that the championship settled nicely into venerable East Lake Golf Club in Atlanta. This is the 14th straight year for East Lake and 17th overall. Its heritage of urban renewal, Bobby Jones and Donald Ross is a great way to showcase the tour’s best.

I’ve even warmed up to how the tour year now carries from one year to the next; not 100 percent, but the changing landscape required some adjusting. With the battle golf has always fought to compete for attention with the start of football season, working to get the year-end event out of the college and pro football morass is a sensible decision.

So, it’s been a great 30-year evolution. From 1987 to 2017, the Tour Championship has made quite the transformation to the type of concluding event it was intended to be.

This item by Cliff Schrock first appeared on golfdigest.com on Aug. 12, 2017

The beautiful needlepoint items created by Alice Buckley are not only functional masterpieces that bring pleasure to the eye and amazement in how they are made, but there is great symbolism. The weaving of the thread mimics how our lives can be intertwined in a stunning pattern that leaves us in awe.

At age 96, Alice has pretty much seen it all, so being awed is a tough task. But she is finding it amazing and emotional that a golf wunderkind she is related to but hasn’t met is stunning the golf world. Jordan Spieth, at the newly turned age of 24, in return might find it exciting to know an unknown near centenarian from his ancestry is pulling for him as he attempts to win the FedEx Cup in the next two weeks.

Alice Buckley relaxes at home in East Moline, Ill.

I met Alice by chance on a visit in early August my wife and I made to East Moline, Ill.—the Quad Cities-area town and land of the John Deere Classic—to spend time with my in-laws, Mary Ellen and Bill Hynd at their new independent-living place. Mary Ellen made sure we met a special lady from the floor above them whose craft skills were off the charts, especially for someone at 96. Her ties to Jordan Spieth came up during the visit when she said she likes to watch golf.

Alice was born Alice Brei on March 13, 1921, in Muscatine, Iowa, which is 40 miles west of the Quad Cities along the Mississippi River. Alice is the oldest of 15 children, and befitting someone nearly a century old, she’s had an incredibly full life, including surviving three husbands. She made the connection she was related to Spieth when he first played the John Deere in 2013. In genealogy jargon, she considers herself a third cousin to the three-time major winner. Alice’s mother, Maude, was a sister in Muscatine to Spieth’s great-grandmother, Hazel, who would marry a Spieth. Jordan’s grandfather, Don, who lives in Bethlehem, Pa., is from Muscatine and was involved in golf starting as a youth. He caddied at Muscatine Country Club and played on the Muscatine High School team.

Alice said she has given Jordan’s grandfather family photos and memorabilia. All of it would likely be evidence why Jordan himself has said the John Deere Classic is close to his heart and been such a strong focal point to his tour career thus far. Don Spieth told the Muscatine Journal in 2014 that he thought Muscatine “was a wonderful place to grow up. I thought the neighborhoods were very close. Lots of wonderful memories." When Jordan won the ’13 JD Classic, his grandfather “heard from people in Muscatine that I hadn't heard from in 40 years. It was really special to remake the connections that way. I got to get together with several [elsewhere] I hadn't talked to for a long time and some relatives as well that I had just sort of lost track of.”

Alice became a follower of Jordan after her ancestral discovery. Watching golf on TV is easy to do while creating some of the most amazing needlepoint work, along with greeting cards that have threaded designs on them. “I do the same things many women my age do,” she said with a smile, “I just do more of them.”

Alice was enraptured like everyone else during the final round of the Open Championship in July when Spieth hit his drive on 13 off the face of the earth. She cried, thinking the worst was to come. “I thought he was going to lose,” she said.

Alice watched the phenomenal comeback with relief, and will continue to watch her distant relative as he looks to make golf history.

But she herself is already a legend, with a substantial 96-year pedigree that not only includes her craft hobbies but 27 years as a church organist and the family researcher who created memory books for her siblings and children’s families. To date that adds up to 11 children/stepchildren, 17 grandchildren, 21 great-grandchildren, and 3 great great-grandchildren. That’s a very strong thread of life she’s weaved.

Any serious golfer worth his weight in missed par putts knows that the game is a "life or death experience." Or so we try to convince ourselves. But deep down we know better. Even the great Jack Nicklaus, when talking about a close defeat, would remind the heartbroken, "Golf is just a game."

But when we need evidence about what is and isn’t important, life happens. May it never intervene as cruelly as what happened two weeks ago on as good a summer day as you can have when a beaut of a guy, barely into the heady days of his marriage to a lovely woman and the adoring papa to a baby girl who out-Gerbers all babies, was gone from this world in a horrible flash. It was at that moment when what matters most—the value of human life—stared family and friends squarely in the face. It was then that “life and death” took on the full weight of its meaning. This is a tribute to a man we didn’t get to know nearly long enough: Brad Batoh. 

It was on the night of July 30 that Brad, 33, hailed in tributes as the best-est husband, father, friend, relative and all-around helluva guy, was taken away from those of us left to feel pain and remorse over a tragic loss. Brad was at the start of a family vacation week on the Jersey Shore, near Toms River, when the unthinkable happened. After a joyous beach day with wife, Tina, baby daughter, Clara, and close family—the photo of him on my home page is from that beach day—followed by a great meal and game night, Brad complained about not feeling well and needing to get to bed. Getting up during the night to get some water, he collapsed, apparently of a heart attack. Attempts to revive him at the rental house and hospital could not be sustained.

Brad Batoh with Clara on a memorable day together.

It is said that the impact you have made in life can be measured by those who come to pay their respects to the living when you’re gone. At Brad’s visitation Aug. 4 at Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Trumbull, Conn., roughly 1,000 people came to comfort the family. Perhaps 300 mourners came to the funeral the next day. Rev. Ronald Froehlich did not try to make sense of something senseless, but gave us the next best thing: hope and comfort. Brad, he said, was more alive now than when he was living on earth. It choked you up to hear it, but it was a good type of emotional reflex. 

The particulars of Brad’s life are there for posterity in his death notice: Born in Bridgeport on March 7, 1984; middle name Nicholas; son of Kenneth and Debra, with a brother, Tim. Brad graduated from Stratford High School in 2002 and got a BS in education from Southern Connecticut State in ’07. He loved to play kickball and softball. After working for a wine distributor, he was the General Manager for New Castle Building Supply in Norwalk.

What the record doesn’t state is that he loved the Mets. Their annoying propensity—to non-Met fans—for achieving their rare moments of success through late-inning heroics earned them the nickname the Cardiac Kids. Dear God, we wonder, why couldn’t this Met fan have mimicked his team and had the rally of all rallies? He deserved to go into extra innings.

Instead, we focus on the other Met moniker, the more sacred-sounding and holy Miracle Mets. This is where we find Brad still alive and vital, in little daughter, Clara, who, like all of us, is a miracle, and she will be the part of Brad Batoh always with us.

A fund has been set up in Brad Batoh’s memory to the Clara Batoh Educational Scholarship Fund, c/o Milford Bank, 3651 Main St., Stratford, CT 06614 or to Sterling House, 2283 Main St., Stratford, CT 06615.

Jordan Spieth’s victory at The Open Championship two weeks ago got him going again on the major championship victory tote-board after an eight-major drought. He's up to three now, a Masters, U.S. Open and Open. While he's hot, he could take the upcoming PGA and have a career Grand Slam lickety-split.

The Open triumph from the jaws of disaster also restarted talk of who is on track to be crowned King of Golf.

For decades, golf was ruled by a King or a small cluster of Kings, starting with Allan Robertson in the mid-1800s. After him, the line of succession roughly follows this order:

Willie Dunn Sr. and Old Tom Morris; Willie Park Sr.; Jamie Anderson; Bob Ferguson, Willie Fernie and Young Tom Morris; John Ball Jr. and Willie Park Jr.; Harry Vardon, James Braid and J.H. Taylor; Willie Anderson; Walter Hagen; Bobby Jones and Gene Sarazen; Ben Hogan, Byron Nelson and Sam Snead; Bobby Locke; Arnold Palmer and Gary Player; Jack Nicklaus, and Tom Watson. There was quite a gap between Watson and Tiger Woods, who was the last true King of Golf.

Between the two TWs and ever since Woods abdicated, we haven’t had a King in the truest sense, just a lot of Princes. And that brings us to Spieth. All the kings above had many challengers during their reign, princes primarily, but the kings were undeniable rulers of their time, either dominant in the majors, regular tour events, or a combination of both. Of active players now, Spieth (3 majors), Rory McIlroy (4) and Martin Kaymer (2) have the combination of youth and multiple majors that could translate into a King of Golf, but Spieth and McIlroy have each won three of the four majors and that versatility should translate into the best chances to continue winning majors.

With McIlroy’s last major win the 2014 PGA, however, one has to wonder if the 28-year-old can get back on the winning track. You need to win at the steady rate of every four to six majors to be considered a King. And you need to play the Woods way: An incredible exception to his era, Woods was immune to financial gain as incentive and had the winning desire that was a trademark of the great players before him. Money was not the driving factor, winning was.

Phil Mickelson (5 majors), Ernie Els (4), Padraig Harrington (3), Angel Cabrera (2), Retief Goosen (2), Zach Johnson (2) and Bubba Watson (2) don’t have time on their side to be a King. Dustin Johnson and Jason Day have one major each and need to start winning them regularly to get into the King conversation.

Right now, Spieth and McIlroy are the lead princes to be King of Golf, but, in a historic twist, there is a good chance we have seen the last King with Woods.

Today’s players all talk about how hard it is to win a major and to contend consistently. Combine that with a modern player’s mentality that the riches available to them don’t require them to be as hungry to win, and the goal of winning majors may not seem as critical. Players can feel content when finishing down the standings still creates a big bank account.

We have the PGA coming up at Quail Hollow Aug. 10-13. I’d love to see the pursuit of being considered a King of Golf intensify with a Spieth, McIlroy, D.J., or Day victory. It’s what brings interest to the sport and participation of golfers, and golf is always in need of both.

The horrific floods that wrecked The Greenbrier Resort and the region around it are a nasty memory now, but a fresh start and revitalization of the area are well under way. Like Old Man River himself, Sam Snead, you can’t keep these West Virginians down long. Snead was the tour legend who exhibited great longevity and was an outstanding competitor well into his senior years. It is appropriate that he was associated with the resilient Greenbrier for decades.

Sam Snead shows a few tips during a Greenbrier clinic.

Nearly any week on tour is a likely time to celebrate something special the great Slammer achieved in golf, and with this being The Greenbrier Classic week, it's only appropriate to also look back at Sam's remarkable association with "America's Resort." More than 80 years ago in 1936, Snead made his first visit to The Greenbrier and the two were nearly always associated until Snead's death in 2002. Snead memorabilia populates the West Virginia resort, including at two restaurants, Sam Snead's at the Golf Club and Slammin' Sammy's.

Snead was The Greenbrier's golf pro from 1946 until the end of 1974 when the two parted ways because the ageless wonder, at age 62, "wanted more time to play tournament golf and [The Greenbrier] wants a full-time club pro," according to Golf World coverage. He rejoined as The Greenbrier's Golf Pro Emeritus from 1993-2002 (Tom Watson followed from 2005-2015 and Lee Trevino was named GPE in early 2015).

In October 1970, Snead aced the 18th hole of the Old White House Course (now Old White TPC), with a 7-iron covering the 163 yards. At the time it was his 18th career ace and the fourth on that hole, but he had another on it -- his final one -- in 1995. Snead also shot 60 six times on the Old White Course, and he had an easy-to-remember 59 in 1959 on the Greenbrier Course.

An elegant fixture of The Greenbrier is the Spring Festival, which began in 1948 and was later renamed the Sam Snead Festival. It was a star-studded event at its origin, held in late spring. Forty pros played 18 holes Thursday through Sunday, and three amateurs joined each pro on Saturday and Sunday in a pro-am format. Bob Hope, the Duke of Windsor and assorted U.S. senators were featured amateurs in the early days; Ben Hogan, Peter Thomson, Jack Burke Jr., Dow Finsterwald, Doug Ford, Claude Harmon, Henry Picard and Jimmy Demaret some of the pros.

Snead won the event multiple times (and gave clinics at the event as shown in the photo on the home-page link), but in February 1968 the resort announced it was dropping the festival. The announcement said, "Following a thorough study of current and future spring activity schedules at The Greenbrier, we have reluctantly decided to cancel future Sam Snead Festival golf tournaments."

But in a beautiful example of how life and common sense can come full circle, the Sam Snead Festival came back on The Greenbrier schedule as a 36-hole pro-am to honor his legacy. It was restarted in 1994 and he hosted it until 2001. In 2015 it was held June 7-9 and hosted by Nick Faldo, who ran a learning center at the resort and has an affinity for The Slammer, and in 2016 it was held late May/early June.

CROMWELL, Conn., June 25 - Jordan Spieth is the wunderkind who lacks pop and power, but has precision, polish and poise under pressure—minus the 12th hole at the 2016 Masters—but he tends to get punchy and has to give himself pep talks. He’s proving to be the People’s choice with the pizzazz that comes from someone with putting prowess. And in winning his 10th PGA Tour victory Sunday, he’s a performer with pinpoint timing, as he was in his first victory in the John Deere Classic in 2013.

The water-logged 17th hole with the 15th and "15th 1/2" holes beyond.

Spieth, who will be 24 on July 27, was just the third player to go wire-to-wire at The Travelers Championship, capped by a dramatic bunker holeout for birdie on the par-4 18th hole to beat Daniel Berger in a sudden-death playoff. Spieth led by one shot after a 63 on Thursday, then maintained the one-shot edge after rounds of 69 and 66. Based on his strategy playing TPC River Highlands, he would have liked a 66 on Sunday, but he was on pace for 68 after shooting one-under on the front. He was at 13 under, two up on Boo Weekley, with Danny Lee at 10 under and Berger nine.

Spieth missed makable birdie putts on 10 and 11, then bogeyed 12 after a wayward tee shot and parred 13. He still led by two shots over Weekley, Lee, Hoffman and Berger at 10 under. After a sloppy bogey on 14 dropped him to 11 under, he was tied with Berger and one up on Weekley.

Spieth surprised himself on 15, rolling in a birdie putt he thought he’d missed, and after a par on 16 he led by one. Berger birdied 17 to get to 12 under and both players played 18 while tied at 12 under. Each made par dramatically with up-and-down efforts from greenside bunkers, Spieth spectacularly nearly holed out from the same bunker he would be in on the playoff. He finished with an even-par 70 and was caught by Berger’s 67.

Playing the par-4 18th again to start the playoff, each drove poorly, leaving Spieth to hit a 5-iron in the front-right bunker and Berger hitting well out of thick rough and leaving him an across-the-green putt in the left fringe.

Playing first, Spieth blasted his ball short of the hole and watched it roll like a putt with speed to hit the flagstick dead center and fall in for a 3. Spieth raced out of the bunker and did a body bump with caddie Michael Greller, then quieted the frenzied record crowd for Berger’s effort to tie him. For a moment it looked like Berger’s ball was on line to match Spieth’s heroics, but it sped by on the high side.

"I felt comfortable on the bunker shot,” Spieth said. “I felt more comfortable in the bunker than I did from four feet. I was in there in regulation, knew it was the place to be. So my approach shot I thought that if it were not going to carry, that bunker's not bad. If it happens to carry on to the green, great. From 225 into this hole I was happy with where it was. I was just trying to get it up there somewhere around the hole.

“For it to actually kind of spin in, I went and jumped up and saw it kind of spinning towards the middle of the hole and I'm like, no way. I'm looking at it like there's no way. It hit and went in, and I lost my mind.

“Obviously, that was one for the ages,” Spieth added. “So I don't know if I'll ever have a moment like that again. That was -- if I was in Berger's shoes, I'd be cursing Jordan Spieth right now for the break off the tee and then holing a 30-yard bunker shot. That's a lot of walk. But I took advantage of the good breaks and happy to come out on top. We played great. The putter let me down today, but all in all this is a huge victory for us in the middle of the season as we go into this second half of the major season.”

The victory makes Spieth the second youngest to 10 victories in tour history, behind Tiger Woods but ahead of Jack Nicklaus. Spieth was not going down that comparison path. “I think it's awesome. I'm hesitant and will speak out adamantly about not comparing myself to anybody else,” he said. “I think that's unfair. I don't think anybody will do what Tiger did for the game. But it's really cool to be out here at my age, to experience what we're able to experience, play golf for a living. That's a dream come true for me.

“I've got all my buddies out here. I grew up playing golf with Berger back to when we were 14, 15 years old, and to be in a playoff with him out here is pretty cool. And I hope that there are teenagers out there listening that they're able to look across from them on the tee box at junior golf events and recognize that they can be out here doing what we just did. It is really cool.”

But, boy, I mean, I really wish that I didn't make it exciting. The goal was boring golf. Play the way we played the first couple holes. Make a bunch of pars, maybe slip in another birdie or two, and cruise in, hit the green and two putt. Walk off. Day's work is done. I still wish I did it that way, but the way that it happened, sometimes you need a little fireworks. Next time I'll still be going for the boring golf route. That will be the goal."

Berger, who turned 24 in April and is shaping up to be a Spieth rival on tour, knew that a great shot beat him. “I played great today. I played the playoff hole great,” he said. “He hit an unbelievable bunker shot, and Jordan does Jordan things. So there's not really much you can say. I'm obviously disappointed, but happy to be in the position I was in today.”

Berger has won the last two FedEx St. Jude Classic, including earlier this month. The sensation of winning so recently helped him: “I knew I could do it. I knew I needed to hit a bunch of good shots and I did. But you can't do anything about that. It's incredible.”

Just as Berger was left speechless, Spieth left fans speechless but not voiceless. The roar compared with cheers he's heard at Augusta National's 16th, he said. Whether the roars are Tiger-like is an analysis for another time. For now, Jordan Spieth is doing the best he can to make the absence of Woods as exciting as possible.