|
Arnold Palmer and the gallery at Fawn Lake Country Club follow the flight of one
Admirers bunch up to meet golf legend Arnold Palmer |
HE SEEMED to appear
With about 200 people waiting for him at the practice range at Fawn Lake Country Club yesterday, Arnold Palmer came into view as he rode across the course in a golf cart.
He was driven past a cardboard cutout of himself before the cart stopped and the crowd cheered.
Palmer stood at the edge of the course--an Arnold Palmer signature course--and gave a thumbs-up. He waved and bowed, a lock of silver hair falling over his forehead.
There were 80 golf balls at his feet and a bag of clubs at his side.
I wondered how many of Palmer's days are like this one. Wherever he goes, people still want to see him hit a golf ball. Even at 80 years old.
There's something about golf that allows legends to stay forever young in the eyes of their fans.
No one wants to see a retired prizefighter take a punch or a retired running back get tackled.
Yet everyone wants to see Arnold Palmer swing a nine-iron.
But sometimes, maybe Palmer would rather not swing a nine-iron.
"I'm gonna hit a few shots," he told the crowd, "and the first guy that laughs, I'll quit."
The crowd laughed, and so did Palmer. Then he said something else, this time without a smile.
"My golf is so bad, I'm embarrassed," he said. "I really am."
It was clear that at these meet-and-greets, Palmer enjoys backslaps more than backswings.
He enjoys telling stories. He enjoys making people laugh.
And if hitting a few golf balls is a way to get to this point, then hand him a three-wood.
Yesterday, Palmer was engaging and endearing. He told the crowd about his dog Mulligan, a golden Labrador.
He talked about his relationship with his two grandsons, both of whom play golf.
He even asked a small boy in the audience if he wanted advice about girls.
With each story and with each quip, the crowd laughed. The stories humanized Palmer and also invigorated him.
After speaking for several minutes, Palmer crouched over a ball and prepared to take a shot. Then he abruptly stood up.
"Any more questions?" he asked.
Fawn Lake head pro Pat Fountain stepped in.
"We want to see you hit a few balls," Fountain said, smiling.
Of course, Palmer obliged.
His shot, though not as long as it once was, remains impeccably straight. His arms, while not as powerful as they once were, remain tan and thick.
Palmer started with a sand wedge and worked up to a driver.
When one of his shots carried beyond the others, he seemed pleased. Then he returned to his stories.
There was one story, one moment, that stood out from the others.
It was the story of Palmer's most memorable tournament.
That tournament was not the Masters, which Palmer won four times. It was not the British Open, which he won twice, or the U.S. Open, which he won once.
It was a small tournament held at a resort in the Poconos. It was played on Labor Day weekend in 1952.
Palmer met a woman at that tournament.
"I asked her to marry me," he said, his voice beginning to crack, "and we were married for 45 years."
Palmer's first wife, Winnie, died in 1999.
As Palmer stood there yesterday, hands on a golf club, the crowd went quiet. Palmer choked up and his eyes welled with tears.
"I've got to hit another ball," he said quietly.
During his one-hour visit here, he hit only about 15 of the 80 balls that sat on the grass. But no one seemed to mind, because his stories were fascinating interludes.
When the session ended, people swarmed to Palmer with pictures and golf balls and whatever else they wanted him to autograph.
One woman even asked what she was doing wrong when she made the classic Arnold Palmer drinks--a mix of iced tea and lemonade.
After cooling down in the pro shop for a few minutes, Palmer was ushered back to a golf cart. He took off his white golf shoes and slipped on some brown loafers.
Before the cart pulled away I asked if, as it had seemed, he preferred sharing memories to showing his swing at events like this one.
He nodded.
"I enjoy the people," he said, "and I enjoy seeing them enjoy themselves."
And at that, he was whisked away, just as quickly as he had arrived. But some of his stories and memories had been left behind, and other new ones had been created.
Adam Himmelsbach: 540/374-5442
Email: ahimmelsbach@freelancestar.com
