A Different Vijay: The Big Fijian

"Vijay made an early faux pas," says Hamm. "You have kind of a list of things not to say, nor do, like touching ? and [that includes] never asking, 'How are you doing?' and, 'I'll see you next time.' They've learned, these are promises that may or may not come true. As innocuous as it may seem, for these kids, it's more straightforward. Vijay comes in the room and says, 'How are you doing?' "

Whaley, 20, had just undergone a bone marrow transplant that his body rejected. He played high school golf and was admittedly a little intimidated about the presence of Singh, "a solemn golfer who we never saw smile," Whaley's mother told the New York Times.

Says Hamm, "This kid, Tyler, was sick, he was really, really sick, and wasn't talking, he was just saying 'yes, yes, yes,' in a low whisper when he kind of just chimed in and said, 'I saw you on TV one time."

This got Singh's attention.

"Where did you see me?" he said.

"I don't know, 6-7 months ago."

With that, Tyler's mom started crying. Tyler had been in a coma for nearly two months, and had no meaning of time. Singh told the young man to watch the Mercedes Benz Championship. He told him the first eagle he made would be for him.

Walking down the hallway, Singh grabbed Hamm's shoulder.

"I never knew," he said.

"It doesn't matter," Hamm told Singh. "Now you do. It's all that matters."

They still had the commercial to shoot. The scene was scripted to a point. On the set, the children were all prompted to say, "The Big Fijian! The Big Fijian!" while surrounding Singh, who is seated in a chair. This is when Ziegler's hand covers his heart and Singh puts his own hand over the child's.

"Vijay always tells me, 'I'm a one-take guy,' but he could not get his [own] name right," says Hamm. "So he messes up another take and says, 'S---.' That's when this little boy sitting on his knee says, 'No, you can't say that in here!' and it was that laugh [that went in the commercial]."

The spot started airing at the beginning of the year. The then president of Aloha Airlines wrote Singh a note to pledge $1,000 for every one of Vijay's eagles; others jumped in. Three months later, at the Masters, a congregation gathered at the IMG House in Augusta that included Singh and Hamm. It was then that Hamm realized Singh bought in. "So, ah, what are we going to do for Eagles next year?" he said, adding, "You know, I've never had so many people ask me about something that wasn't controversial or negative.'"

In other words, it wasn't the missed putts or the ire he may have stirred up by being unapproachable or controversial, it was about something good for a change. Like that eagle he made on the 11th hole at Spyglass Hill in the AT&T Pebble Beach National Pro-Am in February, the first one of the year, the one for Tyler, who had died three weeks earlier. In March, Singh had told the Times, "Every time I had an eagle chance, I found myself thinking about him."

And so it was at the end of the year, after he won the tour's pot of gold, as he sat in his favorite Thai restaurant in Atlanta surrounded by his closest circle of friends, that Singh and Hamm thought about Tyler and talked briefly about Dec. 1, and what that day is all about.

He never knew. Now he does.