When I was a kid, I lived and breathed golf. Not such an easy thing to do, living in a climate that sometimes resembles the arctic.
I loved to play and dreamed of becoming a pro. My dad also shared my passion, and whenever the pros came to town, we would go to the pre-tournament practice rounds together, which provided me with some of my best memories with my father.
It was 1989 and we were attending such a round at the PGA Championship at Kemper Lakes. My dad and I spent all day following around our favorites, many of whom drew big crowds even on a practice day. We were enjoying the event, lingering around on some far end of the course when we noticed the crowds were disappearing and most of the pros were heading back to the clubhouse. The summer sun was just entering its late-day golden hour. And ours turned out to be golden in more ways than one.
As we began our trek back to our car, sad that our time with the pros was ending, we looked down a fairway and saw a golfer and his caddy making their way toward the hole. We stopped and squinted, trying to figure out who it was. Maybe an amateur? There weren’t any other fans around, so that must have been it. If it was anyone accomplished, surely there would be more people flocking around the hole, more people than just us, the player and his caddy.
I think my dad and I figured it out at the same time. As the pair approached, we realized that this last player on the course was none other than golf legend Jack Nicklaus.
We watched him hit his approaching shot, walk to the hole, then putt. He said something to his caddy, who was also his son. Then he left the green, walked right past us and proceeded to the next tee. The way I remember it, he quietly said hello to us and we said ‘hi’ back, and watched him go on his way. Apparently, as long as there was daylight, there was more golf to be played, even for the best player in the game.
Out of all of the tournaments I had seen—both in person and on t.v.—that memory sticks with me like no other. And why? Because I came thisclose to greatness. Thisclose to someone I truly admired. Thisclose to Jack. For a brief moment, it was just the four of us out there. It was like he played that shot just for me. It was like I was dreaming.
That’s one of the reasons I was drawn to Twitter. It has made me feel closer to people I admire and respect—and not just big names, but those from all walks of life: people to communicate with, trade ideas with, learn from, become informed by. Twitter really has made me feel better connected to people I might not have had any connection to at all in the past. Get a tweet from someone you admire, and you’ll feel they are talking to you and only you. That’s part of the allure: you feel special, like you’re in on a secret. Like you’re a VIP. Twitter has made people and organizations accessible in ways we could not have imagined years ago.
This story is also a testiment to the character and discipline of a true winner. By the time I had my encounter, Mr. Nicklaus was already a legend, already the winningest golf professional. And yet he was the last one on the course, still practicing after everyone else had packed it in. After all those years, all of that training and experience, he still felt the need to be out there. Maybe he just enjoyed being there and playing when everyone else had left. But to me, it looked like he was studying the course, trying different shots, analyzing his game.
I think throughout life, we all at one time or another have someone we dream of meeting one day. Back then, Jack Nicklaus probably topped my list. For me, all it took was to linger on the edge of a fairway after everyone else had gone home. Maybe nowadays, all it takes is a tweet.
Tags: Golf, Jack Nicklaus, PGA, Twitter
