Guest Contributor Chris Saksa is a young business professional in the Chicago area employed as a Field Recruiting Coordinator for CNO Financial Group in their Bankers Life division. A 2016 graduate of Illinois State University, where he earned a B.S. Degree in Communication Studies: Organizational and Leadership Communication, he is devoted to, among other things, golf, the White Sox, Blackhawks, and as you'll read, family. This is his second blog for CliffSchrock.com:

Golf has always been a sport parents and their children have bonded over. Father-son examples that come readily to mind are Earl and Tiger Woods and Jay and Bill Haas. I can imagine that at a young age, Tiger and Bill saw pro careers in their future, that's how great their talent was. Of course, Bill's father Jay was a strong tour player himself. But for the majority of us sons who followed their fathers into the game, we knew that golf with our parents was going to focus on leisurely fun rounds on a Saturday or Sunday. However, just because most of us didn’t make it to the PGA or LPGA tours (let's not forget mother-and-daughter golfers), it doesn’t make the bond between parents and their children any less special on the golf course.

Chris Saksa

When I was a kid growing up in Texas, my parents bought me a plastic golf set and I would spend hours in our backyard hitting golf balls back and forth and sometimes even hitting them over the fence and into our neighbor’s yard. As I grew older my parents bought me my first real set of golf clubs, but it wasn’t until I was 10 years old and my family and I had moved up to a western suburb of Chicago that I really started to pick up the game. It seemed like every Saturday or Sunday, once the snow melted, my Dad and I were out there making first tracks in the morning dew.

On those early summer mornings what really meant the most to me was that I got to spend time with my Dad playing the game we loved. During our rounds we would have a lot of great talks. Life got even better when I was a junior in high school and my Mom began to pick up the game. In my hometown we have a par-3 course and the three of us would play on Sunday evenings, then we would  go home, throw some food on the grill and enjoy sitting on our back patio as another great weekend came to a close.

With this week being the U.S. Open and the final round being played on Father’s Day, I will do like I have done every year, whether I am away from home or able to sit down with my parents and watch golf, I always tell them “thank you” for without them I would not be the man I am today.

Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there and thank you to all the parents who wake up at 5 a.m. to go play golf with their kids. Enjoy the golf everyone!

Two of the biggest scorecard gaffes in golf history involved victims Jackie Pung and Roberto De Vicenzo, and now with Roberto’s death on Thursday at age 94, they have both passed away in the same year. Pung died on March 15.

De Vicenzo displayed his long-drive ability at the 1956 Masters.

I never met De Vicenzo, but as a golf writer for more than 30 years, he is forever ingrained in my golf brain for several reasons: Argentinian roots, international star of 230 victories, 1967 Open champion, 1980 U.S. Senior Open and 1974 Senior PGA winner, six PGA Tour victories, great sportsman, model gentleman with a great smile, powerful build and long hitter, World Golf Hall of Fame member, 1970 Bob Jones Award recipient. I recall when Golf Digest checked with De Vicenzo’s assistant back in the 1980s whether his name was DeVicenzo or De Vicenzo with a space, we got an official letter from Roberto on his letterhead telling us to put the space in.

And oh yes, I put what was in everyone’s death notice lead here at the end. De Vicenzo was the unfortunate rules victim at the 1968 Masters, when the 4 Tommy Aaron wrote for him on the 17th hole in Round 4 should have been a 3, so Roberto had to accept the higher score and missed a playoff with Bob Goalby, who was given the green jacket. In a great sportsman gesture, he took the error incredibly well, which led to the Jones Award.

So an all-time great champion and golf ambassador, who traveled the globe and played with Hogan and Snead up through Nicklaus, is gone. He wasn’t quite the oldest-living winner of a major still with us. Doug Ford was a group ahead of him and will be 95 on August 6. But De Vicenzo will always be remembered as a huge figure in the game as one of the original global star players whose power game and gentle manner were uniquely his.

In this first week of May, the earth has certainly blossomed enough in all the nooks and crannies of the Northern Hemisphere’s golf locales to make the game open to all who care to get the season started. While Lerner & Loewe’s lusty sentiment about the month is a tantalizing call to a stirring type of action, for sure May is the month when all golfers above the equator can get a swinging action of another type underway.

I know, some golfers have been out there for a month or two already, but it is amazing how some areas have not had decent golfing weather even into early May. What an astounding feeling it is to start the golf season, the first round in particular bringing a huge range of emotions, beginning with the lead-up to it. I finally began my season this week with a round of golf at Tashua Knolls in Trumbull, Conn. This is about my 45th season of playing golf, and the feeling at the start of another year hasn’t changed much. I’m guessing these are universal emotions:

“I’m finally going to get rid of that dreaded (fill in the blank) problem with my swing.”

“Thank God I can stop watching and hearing TV talking heads discuss golf and start playing it.”

“How long before my lousy golf kills my excitement level?”

And when the first fizzled drive or three-putt comes: “I’m just the same old crap golfer I always was.”

One of my favorite Golf Digest coworkers, the late, great Oklahoman Ross Goodner, comes to mind at this point. Ross could build excitement for a golf game, no matter the time of year, better than anyone I’ve known. He’d say on the first tee of a nice track (Shorehaven in Norwalk, Conn., comes to mind) on a beautiful day, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” And he’d mean it. But by the third tee, after a few wayward shots and a pair of three-jacks, he’d be as “low as a hog on market day,” to quote Jed Clampett. He’d be in such a funk, the end of the round couldn’t come fast enough. Sometimes that would only be nine holes. One time, on a country club best left unnamed, we finished the front nine and on the way to the 10th tee he cut over to his car and loaded up for home. He said, “I just played nine of the nicest holes in Connecticut. Why would I want to play nine of the worst?” And homeward he went.

My first round was on a 60-degree, sunny and breezy day. I normally play from the set of tees one short of the tips; my feeling is, I make doubles just as easily from that set as I do from the whites. I should have gone the shorter route on Round No. 1, but I had that maiden-round feeling I was a better golfer now than I was when I last played in November. Why would I think that? Because of all the extra time I had now after a job loss to swing a weighted club and stretch bar at the fitness center. I was certain I was going to eliminate my early release/no weight transfer problem that has plagued me for years.

I should have known things wouldn’t go well when we were instructed to play the back nine first. What, no first hole of the year being the first hole of the course?! After a nine-hole trifecta of three triple bogeys, including the first hole, three bogeys and three pars, I was already in a funk about how it was the same player and same verse but a different year. I was already picturing by how at year’s end I’d be the same frustrated hacker who’d let another year go by without taking the next step to a lower handicap.

I wasn’t going to let that familiar refrain ruin the entire experience, however. What makes the game THE GAME for the devoted but hapless golfer is what the experience in total gives us: an escape from the everyday, a diversion from life’s hectic pace. My first round reminded me that the camaraderie and setting are everything. Well, not fully. I like birdies, pars and highlight-reel golf moments just as much as any golfer, but the company and course fulfill the experience.

My other foursome members provided the character variety. Mike, more noted for being a longtime runner, was our man with the nickname. Christened “10-feet Under” for never missing a putt under 10 feet, he contrasted that prowess with many adventures from tee to green. Dave, an anesthesiologist, uses a calculating mind to gauge how all the elements will affect his experience but nothing dampens his enthusiasm for the game. This week he let loose with his inhibitions about using a metal wood off the tee, and experimented by putting his hybrid away on the back nine. His Big Bertha fairway metal was effective and his takeaway from the round was optimism for new driving strategy. And Andrew, the longest hitter of the four, enhanced that status, but dealt with his bugaboo of skulling his short irons, perhaps most closely illustrating of us four how few golfers “have it all” when it comes to a total game. All three of them, like me, see the potential good in their games, and enough of it, to keep the faith for discussing our next scheduled game.

What the group exhibited best was the ability to laugh, as best we could, at our inadequate games and kid and amuse each other with mild zingers and personal chit-chat.

Alarmingly, we experienced first hand, on the front nine, the rudeness of the entitled public golfer. The country club golfer can be snobbish, but one of the worst species in golf is the publinxer who thinks his regular course is their personal domain on which to act however they want. There was a group of Tashua regulars on our rears on the front nine, hitting shots to the green right when we'd taken our last step off it, never shouting “fore” when a ball came close. At the turn, we purposely took our time getting food, happy to let them go through, which they did but never stopping and having anyone ask “Hey, mind if we play on?” The public golfer who plays as a regular and displays rude behavior to all others not part of their clique is still alive and thriving, unfortunately.

So, the opening round to 2017 is history. Not much good news about how I played, but there is some comfort in knowing the things I love about the game are still there, doing well, even among the bad swings.

Guest Contributor Chris Saksa is a young business professional in the Chicago area employed as a Field Recruiting Coordinator for CNO Financial Group in their Bankers Life division. A 2016 graduate of Illinois State University, where he earned a B.S. Degree in Communication Studies: Organizational and Leadership Communication, he is devoted to, among other things, golf, the White Sox, and Blackhawks. During his time at Illinois State, he was an Intramural Supervisor/Official, and in May 2015 he was recognized with the Illinois State University Fitness Center Outstanding Guest Service Award. He also umpired Little League baseball for the Westmont (Ill.) Park District. All of that officiating has helped him call things as he sees them.

Just a couple of weeks ago, we saw Sergio Garcia win his first-ever major, at the Masters in Augusta. Before April 9th, Sergio was 0 for 73 in major championships. 0 for 73!

Now, I am too young to remember the early battle Sergio had with Tiger Woods at Medinah Country Club in 1999, where Tiger beat him by a shot, but I have seen highlights and I have watched a lot of golf over the course of my 23 years. I remember watching Sergio have one hand on the claret jug at Carnoustie only to have the golf gods rip it out of his hands at the 2007 Open Championship, and then again at the 2008 PGA Championship at Oakland Hills, where, as he had at Carnoustie, Sergio ran into a man named Padraig Harrington. (In my opinion, Harrington is one of the most underrated golfers out there, but that’s a different story.)

Watching Garcia slip on the green jacket, emblematic of the Masters, told me one thing: It affirmed the belief that good things come to those who are patient. We have all experienced tough times, and sometimes we think too much like Sergio thought. He would say openly: “I cannot catch a break.” Many of us have likely said the same thing, and added, “I will never win or achieve my dream.”

Golf, much like life, can be cruel and unfair sometimes. It can make us feel like we are on top of the world one second and then make us feel all alone in complete darkness the next. But the lesson that Sergio Garcia taught on that Sunday at Augusta is: patience. Ask anyone who has fallen on tough times or any golfer who has had a few bad holes and what do they say? “Take one day at a time,” or “Be patient and take one shot at a time.”

Whether it’s one of the many times we experience failure, or when we fall short of achieving our goal and seriously think about giving up, we have huge doubts that the day of triumph will ever come. I am sure Sergio went home from his close finishes in the majors and thought, “What is the point of me even going to a major, it’s not like I am going to win anyway.” He openly complained about the majors being against him, which made him seem petulant. But even after all that, Garcia continued to show up, he never gave up on his dream of being a major champion and his patience was rewarded with a green jacket and the title of Masters champion.

The lesson is quite clear: The next time you struggle in a situation or think you can’t catch a break, recall how someone as talented as Sergio Garcia failed 73 times to achieve his goal of winning a major. But give him credit, he persevered and as of April 9 he’s classified as a major champion and no one can take that away from him. He overcame negative thoughts that he wasn’t good enough and let positive beliefs put all doubt aside. What a great lesson we all can use in our own lives.

Beyond the career-vindicating aspect of yet another stunning Masters Tournament finish more than a week ago, what Sergio Garcia’s first major championship victory did was get us to ask the question: Will the result be career-altering as well?

Garcia’s Masters title also flips him from one conversation list to another. After being a mainstay on the “best players to never win a major” list for several years, Garcia has validated his special talent with the victory and puts himself on track for being a World Golf Hall of Famer. Now he becomes part of a discussion of “how elite can he become in golf history?” Which road will he go down among those taken by Ben Hogan, Phil Mickelson, Vijay Singh or Lou Graham?

Based on what other players did after winning their first major around the same age Garcia did at 37, there are a few routes his career can take, among them:

The Ben Hogan Route: The great Texan was 34 when he won his first major—the age by which Arnold Palmer and Tom Watson had won their final major—and the floodgates opened. Hogan finished with nine.

The Phil Mickelson Route: For years, Mickelson had to contend with Woods’ dominance, but he finally got his first major at nearly age 34, and to date has five total. He’ll be 47 in June.

The Vijay Singh Route: Singh is 54 now. He won his first major at 35 and is likely done with a total of three. Nick Price performed similarly, winning No. 1 at 35 and ending with three. Larry Nelson won his first at 34 and finished with three.

The Lou Graham Route: When he beat John Mahaffey in a playoff to win the 1975 U.S. Open, Graham was 37 but he never won another major. This has been a popular road; several golfers won at age 37 or older and never won another big one, including: Jerry Barber (age 45), Tommy Bolt (42), Darren Clarke (42), Roberto De Vicenzo (44), Bob Goalby (39), Todd Hamilton (38), Tom Kite (42), Tom Lehman (37) and Kel Nagle (39). Henrik Stenson won the Open last year at 40, but common sense says he will win again. Tommy Aaron and Stewart Cink were 36 and Gay Brewer and Orville Moody were 35 when they won their lone major.

Not mentioned yet, with the age of their first major, are Padraig Harrington (35), Angel Cabrera (37), Craig Wood (39), Mark O’Meara (41), Ted Ray (35) and Jock Hutchison (36). Harrington, who will be 46 in August, was nearly 36 when he won his first major in 2007; he tacked on two more quickly the following year. All the others won two majors.

Garcia’s breakthrough didn’t have the feel of a career culmination as it did for players such as Kite and Clarke. Their majors were crowning achievements and validation of standout careers. Others, such as Graham and Hamilton, were surprises. No one questions that everyone above continued to try and win majors, but success ranged from Hogan to just the lone-major winners.

Now that Garcia has climbed the mountain, the feeling is he's going to want to linger around and enjoy the view from every angle before descending. His talent would indicate he’ll be on the Phil Mickelson or Vijay Singh routes, winning multiple majors when he’s done. His driving, iron play and short game are on a level that should guarantee that. Perhaps most importantly, he’s playing with composure and maturity we’ve not seen from him. His impending marriage, and all the components of wedded life, could enhance that and give him stability on the course for the rest of his playing prime.

The boyish enthusiasm that so captured the golf world when Garcia first emerged, and then disappeared under some petulant behavior, may now come full circle. And if it does, look for Garcia to take the route less traveled, the route the winners of multiple majors take.

NOTE: The writer is John Fischer III, president of the Golf Collectors Society:

The Masters Tournament always creates an air of excited anticipation, the first major of the year held at a beautiful setting, but in 1954 expectations were higher than usual. Ben Hogan was defending champion, and in addition to the 1953 Masters, Hogan had won the U.S. Open and The Open Championship, the “Hogan Slam.” Hogan was the clear favorite, and had arrived at Augusta two weeks ahead of The Masters to practice.

Patton accepted his low amateur honor from Jones while proudly wearing his new sportcoat.

The spring of 1954 brought another player to the field, William Joseph Patton, known to all as “Billy Joe,” a 31-year-old lumber salesman from Morganton, N.C. While the field might have felt the pressure of lining up against Hogan at the top of his game, Billy Joe felt none; in fact, it was Billy Joe who would apply the pressure to Hogan.

Billy Joe wasn’t well known outside North Carolina, although he had won the Carolina Amateur, the Carolina Open and the North & South Amateur, all solid events, and starred on the Wake Forest University golf team. Patton had been selected as the first alternate to the 1953 Walker Cup team, although he didn’t play.

Masters Tournament Director Clifford Roberts suggested to Bob Jones that alternates for the Walker Cup be invited as part of the amateur contingent at The Masters and Jones liked the idea. The Masters was, and still is, an invitational tournament, and Billy Joe's invitation was sent. Billy Joe was long off the tee and an excellent putter, a good combination for the Augusta National course.

Billy Joe readily accepted. He felt his game was in good shape and that he had a crack at winning, so much so that he ordered a new white cashmere sport coat to wear at the presentation ceremonies. While driving from Morganton to Augusta, Billy Joe composed his acceptance speech. Billy also also had a game plan for Augusta: bold play, shooting for every pin, no holding back or laying up.

Today on the Wednesday afternoon of tournament week, a competition is held on Augusta National’s Par-3 Course, but in 1954 the Par-3 Course did not exist, and the pre-tournament festivity was an exhibition on the practice range by the Masters contestants, including a long-driving contest, which Billy Joe entered.

Billy Joe possessed a lightning fast swing and an odd tilt to his follow through, but he could hit the ball “a ton.” He hit his first ball in the driving contest 338 yards. The contest rules allowed for the best of three drives, but Billy Joe turned down the opportunity with the quip, “No, thanks, the next shot I might miss altogether. I couldn’t possibly beat that first one.” And that first one was indeed good enough for Billy Joe to win the driving contest.

Beating the field in the driving contest gave Patton reinforcement that he could not only play with the professionals, but that he could beat them. The Augusta National course was set up at 6,950 yards, long for 1954 and, as true today, favored the long hitter.

On Thursday, the first day of tournament play, the weather was a mixture of thunder, rain and lightning and scores were high, but Billy Joe returned a score of 70, two under par, tied with E.J. (Dutch) Harrison for the lead. Hogan was two back at 72 and Sam Snead, a tournament favorite, was in with a two-over-par 74.

Suddenly there was a new star and the press was asking who this guy with the Southern drawl was. Patton seemed to throw a bit of cold water on his lead commenting, “now hold on a minute boys, let’s not get get too strong on this thing. Tomorrow, I may shoot an 80z—I probably will.”

Patton slipped to 74 on the second day of play but surprised himself with the sole lead at the halfway mark. Hogan was one stroke back.

Patton had proven he was long off the tee, but his ball was not always on the intended line. His game had a dramatic uncertainty to it; no one, including Billy Joe, knew where his ball was going to end up on any shot. Except for putting. Augusta National’s greens have a lot of subtle breaks and rolls, but Billy Joe was making putts and dropping six-footers like they were tap-ins.

Billy Joe’s “go for it” style was not unlike what Arnold Palmer would do a few years later, and his talkative manner presaged Lee Trevino’s style. When Billy Joe found himself in the trees, as he frequently did, he’d look for an opening, however small, and go for it, telling the gallery what he was going to do. He had great confidence and was becoming a gallery favorite.

On Saturday Billy Joe came in with a three-over 75, which left him five strokes behind Hogan, who made a move with a 69, and two strokes behind Sam Snead.

Billy Joe’s dropoff was not entirely unanticipated. It was not unusual for an unknown to lead a major event at the beginning of the tournament. As the pressure built, the seasoned players tended to move up the leader board, eclipsing newcomers.

Unlike today when the leaders go off last—very  convenient for the all-powerful television broadcasts that bring in revenue—in 1954, the leaders were scattered throughout the field spreading out the galleries and making it easier to follow the leaders.

Snead was off at noon, a half hour before Billy Joe and an hour before Hogan. Snead faltered a bit early in the round and the galleries decided Hogan was on his way toward winning the Masters for a second year in a row.

Then there was an explosion of yelling and cheering that rolled through Augusta’s hills. Billy Joe had scored an ace on the 190-yard sixth hole, his ball hitting the pin six inches above the cup and dropping straight down into the hole.

Suddenly, everything was askew, and the tournament opening up. Billy Joe was now three under par overall, three strokes behind Hogan. No matter how advantageous, a hole-in-one can shake up a player by interfering with his focus. But not Billy Joe. He parred the seventh, and then birdied eight and nine, making the turn in 32.

Patton parred 10 and 11 and, standing on the 12th tee, was tied with Hogan for the lead. Hogan was out in 37.

It’s a well-worn saying that the Masters doesn’t begin until the back nine Sunday, and in 1954 the excitement was just beginning. Patton would make a bogey-4 at 12 and, in keeping with his “full bore, full guts” philosophy, decided to hit a 3-wood to the green at the par-5 13th, which was guarded in front by a tributary to Rae’s Creek. Billy Joe dumped his shot into the creek, considered trying to play from the water, but decided to drop the ball behind the creek and take a stroke penalty.

Patton then proceeded to hit a poor pitch over the creek, had to chip to the green and took two putts. A disastrous 7.

Hogan was now standing over his second shot to the 11th green. Instant scoring was not available in 1954. There were fewer scoreboards and players did not know where they stood against the field or the leader, or even who the leader was. That was Hogan’s situation.

Hogan had a game plan for every course he played, and how he would play each hole was mapped out before he stepped on the first tee. On 11, there is a pond to the front-left of the green and a gathering slope at the edge of the green that can pull the ball into the water. Hogan had said that if you ever saw his ball on the 11th green in two, you would know he had missed the shot. His plan was to play to the right of the green, chip on and make a par.

It was here that Hogan made a disastrous error. He broke with his game plan, pulled out a 3-iron and hooked it into the pond. The result: a double-bogey 6. Afterward Hogan said, “If I’d known what happened to Patton I would have played it safe.”

As Billy Joe walked off the 13th green with his double bogey, his large and loyal gallery was was quiet and crestfallen. Patton looked over at them and said, “C’mon, folks, let’s smile again.” And then Patton gave them something to smile about—a birdie at the 14th. He was back in the hunt again.

Patton decided to go for the green at the par-5 15th requiring a carry over a pond that runs across the entire front of the green. Billy Joe mis-hit a 2-wood and his ball splashed into the water. He was on in 4, and two-putted for a 6. His gallery’s emotions were bounced around on the back nine. Billy Joe parred the last three holes, but his fabulous day was over. He finished at 290, one stroke behind Hogan and Snead who had tied for the lead. In the 18-hole playoff on Monday, Snead won, beating Hogan 70 to 71, but 1954 was still Patton’s Masters. Snead and Hogan had played under-par golf in their playoff, but all Augusta was talking about was Billy Joe.

At the presentation ceremonies, Billy Joe was wearing his new cashmere sports coat. In accepting the award for low amateur (solo third place), the gallery may have been expecting a remorseful recap of his double bogey at 13 or the bogey at 15, but that wasn’t Billy Joe’s mindset.

“I don’t feel bad about that 6 at 15 and I don’t feel bad about that 7 at 13, and I don’t want my rooters to feel bad about that. I told myself I wasn’t going around after the tournament thinking I could have saved a stroke if I hadn’t played it bold. So I played it bold and the way I made those birdies was the same way I got that six and that seven."

The 1954 Masters was the first of 14 times Billy Joe would play in the tournament, although he never came as close again to trading his white sport coat for the green jacket, the symbol of the Masters champion. He did, however, take low-amateur honors two more times.

Billy Joe didn't change his style. He was always the swashbuckler going for the pin, finding an opening in the trees to redeem a wayward shot and never playing safe. Over the years several groves of trees were designated as “Patton’s Woods” by his followers. At one time, Bobby Jones jokingly suggested that the grove of pines to the right of the 14th fairway be officially dedicated as “Patton’s Woods” since that was where he’d first seen Billy Joe in 1954.

Billy Joe never turned professional. He kept at the lumber business and playing golf. He played on five Walker Cup teams and continued winning amateur events including two more North & South Amateurs in addition to one in 1954. And the galleries continued to love watching his bold play and listening to his chatter. Billy Joe clearly loved playing the game.

Interested in golf history? Go to golfcollectors.com, print out a membership application and join the Golf Collectors Society, an international group of golfers interested in golf history and the memorabilia of the game. You will be made welcome.

One of the high-holy days for a golf writer during the year is attending a media day. The normal media day involves media members being invited to the tournament course a couple months before the event’s playing. The defending champion, or sometimes a star player if the defender isn’t available, is on hand to mix with the media and discuss the event, and then the media plays the course and sits down to a great meal.

The idea, from the tournament organizer’s point of view, is to have the media then go back to their outlets and file reports to build enthusiasm for the event. As far as the writers and reporters are concerned, however, if they are totally honest, the fine food and golf are a mighty strong attraction for the day as well. Sure, they’ll do their due diligence to help the PR campaign, but getting pampered is an awfully nice feeling. Mmmm, there is something about working long hours, often in hot, humid air outdoors and 32-degree AC in the media building, that makes free food so enjoyable, so the golf media members take it when they can get it. There have been many memorable assaults on appetizer tables that are legendary among the writing brethren.

It was in a media day setting that I experienced a wonderful moment with LPGA legend Pat Bradley, who turns 66 on March 24 and is aunt to PGA Tour player Keegan Bradley. I gained insight to the engaging personality she had on tour, and the moment I shared with her was typical of the effort the LPGA has been so well known for in promoting their events.

As a bright-eyed golf writer for the Daily Pantagraph in Bloomington, Illinois, in the early 1980s, I went to the media day for the Rail Charity Classic, in Springfield. Bradley was there, and during the breakout media session I got to chat with her and get notes to write a story. Typical stuff, and something she’d done hundreds of times. We’d never met before but she was attentive to my questions. After the interviews, it was fun time: lunch, and the media groupmoved to carts for the 18-hole round on The Rail course.

My group got through the front nine, and as we played the par-4 10th, me, playing my normal game, dumped my second shot into a greenside bunker. As I got ready to play my third, I didn’t realize that Bradley, who had been riding around in a cart watching play, was now observing our group. I then, uncharacteristically, hit my sand shot stiff, and as I’m leaving the bunker I hear, “Cliff, that was a great shot. Nice going!” I turned and saw Pat, with a big smile, giving me applause from the cart. I smiled and gave a thumbs-up response.

Bradley’s reaction made a deep impression on me: that she would recall my first name, that she was genuinely pleased at my good fortune, and in the big picture, that I would fade from her memory but she knew the tournament would benefit from a writer having a good time.

More than 30 years later, that moment may seem like a small, throwaway gesture by a Hall of Fame golfer to a small-market writer. But it’s much more than that; the interaction with a pro is what media days are all about.

When some of the upsets started coming in during Wednesday's WGC Dell Technologies Match Play first-round play, the flashbacks to the dangers of match play may have terrorized fans initially. That splendid golfer-versus-golfer format that provides so much drama has long been a TV golf nightmare for the unavoidable dread it brings of knocking out star players. It has always been a match-play drawback on the pro tour, and is the reason match-play events have come and gone for much of tour history.

But--sigh of relief--the WGC Match Play is using a round-robin format, whereby 16 groups of four players will go through three days of match play, with each player in a group playing the other three in 18-hole matches one day at a time. The 16 top players after that will then continue on Saturday.

That type of format means the higher-ranked players who fell--Jordan Spieth, Rory McIlroy, Brandt Snedeker, Emilio Grillo, Francesco Molinari, Jimmy Walker, Danny Willett, Matthew Fitzpatrick and J.B. Holmes--will live to fight another two days. It also means they started digging a hole for themselves and can't afford any more misteps or they really will be out after Friday. If a player loses their first two matches, Friday's match will purely be to play well enough to get out of town with at least one win. 

The last time we had seen Arnold Palmer tee it up at Bay Hill to play in his PGA Tour event was in 2004, so we’d had a dozen years to think of him more as the friendly trophy presenter rather than a competitor. But the event was such a part of the Palmer fabric that the first round this week will be just the fifth ever played without him as either a player or present in some capacity. He did not play in the 1969 tournament. Golf World magazine reported in its March 18, 1969, issue that Palmer was suffering from a “lumbosacral strain,” a torturous phrase that meant his right hip was not in the proper position. He was seeing a chiropractor who was designing a heel wedge for his shoe.

The Arnold Palmer Invitational started as the Florida Citrus Open in 1966 at Rio Pinar Country Club in Orlando. Palmer was 36 & 1/2 years old and two seasons past his last major win. He was devoted to the tournament and only missed 1969 as a player. He played the event 38 times in all, winning in 1971, and finishing second in 1967 and 1970. The tournament switched to Bay Hill in 1979, and it slowly evolved into Arnie’s baby, with his name going on it in 2007.

Here is Arnold Palmer’s record at his namesake event with year, event name, dates, his scores, finish and money:

1966 Florida Citrus Open, March 17-20: 75-70-72-71—288, T-36, $502.15

1967 Florida Citrus Open, March 9-12: 67-69-71-68—275, T-2, $11,212.50

1968 Florida Citrus Open, March 14-17: 71-76—147, Missed Cut

1969 Did Not Play

1970 Florida Citrus Open, March 5-8: 64-72-64-72—272, T-2, $13,875

1971 Florida Citrus Open, March 11-14: 66-68-68-68—270, 1st, $30,000

1972 Florida Citrus Open, March 9-12: 72-75—147, Missed Cut

1973 Florida Citrus Open, March 1-4: 70-74—144, Missed Cut

1974 Florida Citrus Open, Feb. 28-March 3: 68-73-72-74—287, T-41, $540

1975 Florida Citrus Open, March 6-9: 72-69-75-73—289, T-42, $660

1976 Florida Citrus Open, March 4-7: 74-72—146, Missed Cut

1977 Florida Citrus Open, March 3-7: 71-72-69-75—287, T-48, $494.28

1978 Florida Citrus Open, March 2-6: 65-73-71-71—280, T-14, $3,400

1979 Bay Hill Citrus Classic, March 1-4: 70-74-70-80—294, 59th, $555

1980 Bay Hill Classic, Feb. 28-March 2: 76-71-74-85—306, T-69, $600

1981 Bay Hill Classic, Feb. 26-March 1: 73-72-73-76—294, T-63, $639

1982 Bay Hill Classic, March 4-7: 76-74—150, Missed Cut

1983 Bay Hill Classic, March 10-13: 78-85—163, Missed Cut

1984 Bay Hill Classic, March 15-18: 72-71-74-78—295, T-68, $812

1985 Hertz Bay Hill Classic, March 7-10: 78-73—151, Missed Cut

1986 Hertz Bay Hill Classic, March 13-16: 78—78, Missed Cut (rain shortened)

1987 Hertz Bay Hill Classic, March 12-15: 77-79—156, Missed Cut

1988 Hertz Bay Hill Classic, March 17-20: 72-74—146, Missed Cut

1989 Nestle Invitational, March 9-12: 83-74—157, Missed Cut

1990 Nestle Invitational, March 22-25: 74-77—151, Missed Cut

1991 Nestle Invitational, March 14-17: 72-71-70—213, T-24, $7,737.50 (rain shortened)

1992 Nestle Invitational, March 19-22: 74-77—151, Missed Cut

1993 Nestle Invitational, March 18-21: 73-76-78-75—302, T-71, $1,970

1994 Nestle Invitational, March 17-20: 80-78—158, Missed Cut

1995 Nestle Invitational, March 16-19: 73-78—151, Missed Cut

1996 Bay Hill Invitational (Office Depot), March 14-17: 75-74—149, Missed Cut

1997 Bay Hill Invitational (Office Depot), March 20-23: 81—81, Withdrew before completion of delayed second round

1998 Bay Hill Invitational (Cooper Tires), March 19-22: 78-78—156, Missed Cut

1999 Bay Hill Invitational (Cooper Tires), March 11-14: 78-74—152, Missed Cut

2000 Bay Hill Invitational (Cooper Tires), March 16-19: 82-76—158, Missed Cut

2001 Bay Hill Invitational (Cooper Tires), March 15-18: 85-78—163, Missed Cut

2002 Bay Hill Invitational (Cooper Tires), March 14-17: 86, Withdrew

2003 Bay Hill Invitational (Cooper Tires), March 20-23: 87-85—172, Missed Cut

2004 Bay Hill Invitational (MasterCard), March 18-21: 88-79—167, Missed Cut

Our enjoyment of golf is multifaceted, a perspective that grows with each year we play. When we are just starting out, all we have is our score to provide us our main source of pleasure. We chronicle with joy our progress from over-par scores to getting our first par, then first birdie, then if we’re really good—and lucky—we may experience a jackpot of eagles, a hole-in-one and a double eagle in tandem with lowering handicaps.

But that’s just surface stuff. Our score improvement can only take us so far and our bliss last just long enough before we need our relationship with the game to deepen, which it does with time. What really gets us going is the experience. The comfort of spending time with others, the friendship, the laughter, the fresh air, all of it gives us the satisfaction we find in no other sport.

Fueling our experience is our sensuous nature. Not sensual, mind you, but playing golf does arouse us all the same, and the senses it brings to life are smell, sight, sound, and touch.

I hardly ever get to act on this impulse, but one of the nicest places and times to play golf is in Florida in March. That’s why I find the Florida swing of the PGA Tour the most satisfying to watch of the places it goes in the first half of its season, which is when the Northern half of the country impatiently waits to get out of winter.

The tour concludes its Florida swing with this week’s Arnold Palmer Invitational presented by MasterCard. Love will be in the air this week at Bay Hill—there’s the sensual part—to honor the first A.P. Invitational held after Palmer’s death in September. But I will be sad to see the Sunshine State events end, although I know it means improved weather is creeping along for all golfers. Playing golf in Florida in March has a unique hold on how my senses feel. And seeing the pros play in Florida for a few weeks reminds me of my times there in March when I’ve been able to escape for a trip from the Northeast, and sadly this month, a reminder of a hoped-for trip I had planned and had to cancel.

In the Florida-March element, the air feels and smells new and in transition, the sun feels just warm enough, the Bermuda grass and palm trees are a distinct visual stimulant and of a different texture than I’m normally used to, the wildlife sounds are unique, the air feels more like it wants to hug you like a blanket at night, and the mix of water hazards and housing in and through a course’s layout says Florida loud and clear. Whenever you could escape to play golf there it was always a good feeling to get a jump on the golf season over your regular golf mates still in snow.

Summer has its heat that causes oily muscles, and fall has stimulating cool air that makes one feel alive and vibrant—I enjoy both. But playing golf in Florida in March is an environment that I’ve never forgotten, a stimulant to my golf senses that made a permanent memory.

To the golf community at large and his friends, Mark Laesch was the Golfstat innovator who for 30 years elevated the college game’s programs and players onto a sophisticated statistical level that up to that point had only been a dream. To me, however, when I thought of Mark Laesch, milk came to mind.

I mean that as a compliment, as you’ll see. I lived in the same hometown as Mark’s and went to the same parochial grade school and church in Bloomington, Illinois, smack dab in the middle of the state in McLean County, the state’s largest county in size and in the heart of corn country.

The Laesch family had an extensive presence in the area due to its business: Laesch Dairy. For decades Laesch milk was the Hood, Sealtest, Borden, Dean, whatever dairy company you can think of giant in the community. They dominated the home-delivery market, including my family’s house. The dairyman would put four glass gallon containers (three white, one chocolate) in an insulated metal box on the front porch each week. When you emptied a gallon, you’d rinse it out and put it back in the box for the deliveryman to take back to the dairy on his next trip.

Laesch milk was awesome. I grew up on Vitamin D for years, and loved the chocolate, it didn’t last a full week for our family of six. Laesch Dairy eventually opened stand-alone stores called Laesch Dairy Barns, and home delivery service slowly faded as people went out and shopped for their milk. Mark oversaw the business in the early 1980s, but Laesch Dairy was bought in 1998. By then, Mark was well into his stat-driven business, having started it in 1984, the year I left Illinois for Connecticut.

The coverage of Mark Laesch’s final months of battling amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, which ended with his death last Saturday at age 62, properly celebrated his role in college golf. It’s credit he richly deserved to see before his passing. But even more impressive was his testimony of faith, an unequivocal, lock-solid belief in God and what his death would mean for him.

The foundation for this faith came from Trinity Lutheran Church and School (K-through-eighth grade school). The extensive Laesch clan members were faithful and fervent, led by Mark’s father, Daniel, who you could see taught his family to be energetic and engaged. (I recall Mr. Laesch coming up to me after an eighth-grade talent-show skit and telling me I had a good voice for radio. As things have turned out all these years later, some would say I was dumb for not taking that advice.)

Mark was five years older than me going through TLS but my older brothers were around his age and I recall Mark’s great aptitude for all sports, which took him to Indiana University to play baseball. Mark’s father served on many boards, but he took time to play golf, a popular sport in a great golfing hotbed town of Bloomington.

As a man who grew up with a strong, successful father figure who lived his faith—and played golf—it isn’t a total surprise Mark Laesch accomplished what he did. He liked some of his father’s quotes: “If you don’t have conflict, you’re running from it. Conflict is the best way to grow.” And, quoting Thomas Edison, “If there’s a better way to do it, find it.” When Mark remarked about change, “Sort of sad, isn’t it, Dad?”, the older man said, “No, it’s progress.”

In the end, Mark Laesch was quotable too, delivering as powerful a statement as you could get from someone dealt a horrific fate: “I happen to believe that the instant we die is probably the single greatest moment of our life.”

He had great faith in where he was going after a life in which he delivered to all who knew him the milk of human kindness.

There’s a short list building for Golf Personalities of 2017—Jon Rahm, Justin Thomas and Dustin Johnson among the leaders—but one of the prime candidates won’t be seen or heard from in person. And there’s great potential for him to be on the list for many years to come despite his absence.

The personality? Arnold Palmer. Not yet a half-year removed from his September 25 death at age 87, the golf community is in the early stages of understanding what Arnie’s void will mean for the game. More than any other golf legend who has left us, it will be interesting to see how golf progresses without him and how strong Palmer’s legacy as someone who cared deeply about the game’s health will remain for years to come.

The older you are as a Palmer devotee the more likely you are to feel he’s eternal, with no chance of his persona slipping from the occasional reference or the example he led as a professional golfer and how to be a fan favorite held up as the ultimate example for young players. A video of Palmer describing how to conduct oneself on tour should be handed to every new tour player as SOP; there certainly must be miles of film quoting his thoughts.

I started playing golf in the early 1970s, right at the end of his winning years on the PGA Tour. I was in eighth grade and out with my buddies on the night he won his final tour event in 1973, the Bob Hope Classic. The autographed photo you see on my home page and the letter he wrote to me played a strong role in me wanting to play the game. The first time I saw him in person was at the senior Commemorative event in the mid-1980s at Newport Country Club. And what a sight: He was on the par-3 fourth, Graves Point, standing on the tee with the Atlantic Ocean in the background. I never got to shake the hand that people said swallowed up yours, but I was within handshake distance of him at a Gold Tee Dinner among a crowd of people and asked him to sign a program cover (I know, a no-no for media) that had images of him, Jack and Barbara Nicklaus and Hale Irwin on it. Got the other three too.

The younger a golf fan is, the more likely Arnold Palmer’s hold will fade on them, and that is sad if true. We are several weeks past one of Palmer’s prominent and regular tour involvements with the Hope tournament, now known as the CareerBuilder Challenge, being played in January. Soon upon us will be two larger moments that will remind us again of his passing and the emptiness the golf world will have to get used to: his Arnold Palmer Invitational presented by MasterCard at Bay Hill March 16-19, and the Masters Tournament in April.

Thankfully, that younger golf fan will have plenty to keep Arnold Palmer front and center and grow his appreciation for him. It was announced recently that his memorabilia will be on display at various tournament locations. We can be assured, too, that CBS and the Masters will give Arnie his due every spring. He’s on the masters.com home page at the moment. And the news that Graeme McDowell, Annika Sorenstam, Curtis Strange, Peter Jacobsen and former Secretary of Homeland Security Tom Ridge will fill in as Bay Hill hosts is an assuring sign that Arnold’s tournament will “do a Byron Nelson” and keep his name front and center and not do a Bob Hope and fade away.

Also encouraging: AP’s charity foundation will continue  to do the good it has been doing, following the example Palmer started setting decades ago when he was the March of Dimes chairman. Visit arniesarmy.org to see the work being done.

Let’s all toast that the Palmer legacy endures in perpetuity, and let’s make the drink an Arnold Palmer.

Please continue to watch this spot for a variety of opinions and views—not all mine hopefully—written from the heart.